All Over Bristol, Sunday
Apr. 10th, 2011 09:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chosehumanityThree weeks, and Mitchell had been nowhere near Fandom. If there was a crisis going on right now, he didn't even know. He'd had his own shit going on. Three weeks of corralling vampires, getting a twelve-step program going, convincing Ivan to stand by him and talk the vampires of Bristol into quitting the blood.
Three weeks of having to tell the bastards ad nauseum that 'we no longer drink blood' did not mean '...except if it's a willing goth girl we plucked off the internet as a gift for the boss', three weeks of support circles and clapping each other on the shoulder, three weeks of coming home to find George completely not dealing with Nina leaving by promptly throwing himself at some other girl.
He had thought of Fandom occasionally, but every time he was going to make time to leave, some other Situation cropped up.
Like this morning. He'd wanted to go back to the island and open up the theatre. Instead, he was getting lifted off his bed by the police bright and early, cuffed, thrown into a patrol car, and driven off to the police station.
What the hell.
"Douglas Drakefield," said the Chief Constable pleasantly. "Arrested in 2005 for flashing. But he's got a good lawyer, so no conviction. Kiddie porn on the harddrive, April 2006, again, no conviction. November, 2006, assault on a minor. He gets two years, serves 18 months. And then this afternoon, we find him parked outside a primary school with a length of rope in the boot of his car."
Mitchell stared through the window into the cell. "And this involves me how?" he snapped.
"Well, it's time for affirmative action," the Chief Constable replied. "I want this animal sent kicking and screaming to hell, and you're the man to do it. So. Get in there, vamp up, vamp out, whatever it is you do, and rip the fucker to shreds."
Oh jesus christ. Mitchell stared after him. "You brought me here to kill for you," he said, slowly. Oh hell no.
"I have a line of guys back there begging for the opportunity," the Chief Constable confided. "I figured you might enjoy this. To be honest, I was half-expecting a thank you." He chuckled.
"Well, you figured wrong," Mitchell snapped. "I'm clean now."
The Chief Constable didn't budge a step. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't kill any more."
There was a short silence.
"But... you're a vampire," the man said, slowly. "Is that even possible?"
"With the right conditions, yeah," Mitchell said, a strain in his voice. Christ. Now he was getting people delivered onto his plate by fucking humans?
The Chief Constable looked him in the eye. "And they chose a toothless fucker like you as a leader? Whatever, that's politics all over." Another chuckle.
Mitchell kind of wanted to punch him in the face. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more assistance," he gritted out. And walked.
---
Another one of the nasty little side-effects of his current position, Mitchell reflected, was all the bloody paperwork. He'd spent days in his office just poking through the stuff, trying to find something, anything that would help him figure it all out. How the organisation worked, where everyone was, how to handle this and that and jesus--
"Are you looking for anything in particular?" one of the vampires asked as he came in.
"No, just trying to wrap my head around the stuff," Mitchell muttered.
The man came in tentatively. "D'you want a brew?" he asked. "The kettle's on."
"No, I'm fine, I think I'm done here anyway." That vampire-- what was his name again? He wasn't used to the guy being this... careful. "Is everything all right?"
But he got no response. Fine, then. "Okay," he said, shoving the paperwork aside. He shut the filing cabinet as well, and set off at a brisk walk. Maybe he'd still manage to get back to Fandom tonight. "I'll see you later."
He pushed open the door, and that's when the lad started talking.
"I've been dreaming about my ex," the vampire said, "I tried to recruit her. But no one had shown me how, so she... she just died." He took a shuddering breath. "I haven't thought about her in fifteen years. And now there's all this stuff I've forgotten, this little scar--" he pointed it out, "by her eye, from when she fell off the swing? Her accent. And sometimes--"
Yeah. Mitchell remembered that phase all too well. "It's fine," he said, "This is normal. It's part of the process." (And it never quite went away, he didn't say, didn't want to take the poor fucker's hope away. Hope was the only way they could manage this at all.)
"I don't know where it's come from. It's terrifying. It's like I'm being chased," the man-- Campbell. That was his name. Campbell stammered out.
"Campbell," Mitchell said, "You gotta stick it out, it happens. It's gonna keep happening, but then, it stops." A little white lie.
"It's happened to you too?" Campbell sounded almost desperate for something to hold on to.
"Yeah. All the time," Mitchell told him.
---
And then there was Lucy, the lovely lass who'd given him the idea for all this to begin with. He bumped into her again as he was heading up to the Portalocity station. She stopped him - but that was fine, he could stand to be a little later.
"Hey, look at you," Mitchell said, with a grin. She had a habit of chasing some of the worst of the gunk of the day away from him, and right now he really needed it. "You look like death."
"Thank you," she said, cheerfully. "Um, a week of-- nights. Now I'm going to go home and lie in bed for three days listening to roadworks!"
Mitchell's grin grew a notch. "Live the dream," he said. "But seriously, if you're too tired for Tuesday night, we can always--"
"Oh, no, you can't back out now. I've... already downloaded Nigella."
"You don't have to do that!" Mitchell protested, immediately.
"Yes, I do," Lucy retorted, "I want to impress you!"
"Look, you can bake it, boil it, hydrate it, whatever you wanna do," Mitchell said, waving his hands around. Though it was nice, really, that she wanted to make an effort. "I'm... cool with that. Do you want me to bring anything?"
She paused to think. "Um," she said, "A sense of humor?"
"All right," he laughed. She flashed him a smile, then slipped past him.
"I'll see you on Tuesday!" she called. "Eight o' clock, don't be late!"
---
And then, of course, Portalocity turned out to be 'down for maintenance' or some crap like that, so Mitchell had to postpone opening up the theater until tomorrow. He wandered back down to the house with his hands stuck in his pockets, trying not to think about any of the vampire-related shit and focusing on Lucy instead.
Things back at the house hadn't been all that brilliant, either. George had bought a cage, of all things, to transform him. At the latest full moon, he'd shot himself full of tranquilizers and turned in the cage. It had been a happy thing for him, knowing the werewolf had been asleep all night. They'd watched the surveillance footage together, and George had nearly tackled Mitchell off the couch with joy.
Which lasted right up until George found out that surpressing the wolf just meant it would come out worse during the rest of the month. Random anger attacks, fits of Tourettes, the works. Sufficient to say, he wasn't trying that again.
But none of that was going on now, as Mitchell came into the house to find Annie holding a baby.
A ghost baby.
Awwww.
"Handsome little bugger, isn't he?" Mitchell said, gazing down at the baby. This was definitely a good surprise to come home to.
"Have you ever wanted children?" Annie asked. She was sitting on the table now, watching it.
"I'd thought about it," Mitchell admitted. "You know, back when I was-- ah, I don't know. You have to be with the right person, don't you?" The baby laughed in his grasp. It was adorable.
"And not dead," Annie supplied.
Mitchell looked up. "Yeah," he agreed.
"And does it bother you now?" she wondered. "A lifetime without kids? A very long lifetime without kids?"
Mitchell let the kid grab his finger in his tiny hand, and smiled. "Does it bother you?" he asked. Annie didn't answer.
Instead, she got up and walked over towards Mitchell, and said, "Look, he likes this," and put her hands behind her ears so they looked bigger. "Hewwo, my name is George, that's my name, my name is George, and I--"
"Yeah, that's funny," George said, pacing into the kitchen, "Yeah, that's-- really funny."
Annie and Mitchell just grinned at him.
[[ nfb, and taken from Being Human 2x05 with references to 2x04 because I'm skipping ahead a bit. Warning: references to pedophilia. Open for phone calls, if you're anywhere where you can reach him ]]
Three weeks of having to tell the bastards ad nauseum that 'we no longer drink blood' did not mean '...except if it's a willing goth girl we plucked off the internet as a gift for the boss', three weeks of support circles and clapping each other on the shoulder, three weeks of coming home to find George completely not dealing with Nina leaving by promptly throwing himself at some other girl.
He had thought of Fandom occasionally, but every time he was going to make time to leave, some other Situation cropped up.
Like this morning. He'd wanted to go back to the island and open up the theatre. Instead, he was getting lifted off his bed by the police bright and early, cuffed, thrown into a patrol car, and driven off to the police station.
What the hell.
"Douglas Drakefield," said the Chief Constable pleasantly. "Arrested in 2005 for flashing. But he's got a good lawyer, so no conviction. Kiddie porn on the harddrive, April 2006, again, no conviction. November, 2006, assault on a minor. He gets two years, serves 18 months. And then this afternoon, we find him parked outside a primary school with a length of rope in the boot of his car."
Mitchell stared through the window into the cell. "And this involves me how?" he snapped.
"Well, it's time for affirmative action," the Chief Constable replied. "I want this animal sent kicking and screaming to hell, and you're the man to do it. So. Get in there, vamp up, vamp out, whatever it is you do, and rip the fucker to shreds."
Oh jesus christ. Mitchell stared after him. "You brought me here to kill for you," he said, slowly. Oh hell no.
"I have a line of guys back there begging for the opportunity," the Chief Constable confided. "I figured you might enjoy this. To be honest, I was half-expecting a thank you." He chuckled.
"Well, you figured wrong," Mitchell snapped. "I'm clean now."
The Chief Constable didn't budge a step. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"I don't kill any more."
There was a short silence.
"But... you're a vampire," the man said, slowly. "Is that even possible?"
"With the right conditions, yeah," Mitchell said, a strain in his voice. Christ. Now he was getting people delivered onto his plate by fucking humans?
The Chief Constable looked him in the eye. "And they chose a toothless fucker like you as a leader? Whatever, that's politics all over." Another chuckle.
Mitchell kind of wanted to punch him in the face. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more assistance," he gritted out. And walked.
---
Another one of the nasty little side-effects of his current position, Mitchell reflected, was all the bloody paperwork. He'd spent days in his office just poking through the stuff, trying to find something, anything that would help him figure it all out. How the organisation worked, where everyone was, how to handle this and that and jesus--
"Are you looking for anything in particular?" one of the vampires asked as he came in.
"No, just trying to wrap my head around the stuff," Mitchell muttered.
The man came in tentatively. "D'you want a brew?" he asked. "The kettle's on."
"No, I'm fine, I think I'm done here anyway." That vampire-- what was his name again? He wasn't used to the guy being this... careful. "Is everything all right?"
But he got no response. Fine, then. "Okay," he said, shoving the paperwork aside. He shut the filing cabinet as well, and set off at a brisk walk. Maybe he'd still manage to get back to Fandom tonight. "I'll see you later."
He pushed open the door, and that's when the lad started talking.
"I've been dreaming about my ex," the vampire said, "I tried to recruit her. But no one had shown me how, so she... she just died." He took a shuddering breath. "I haven't thought about her in fifteen years. And now there's all this stuff I've forgotten, this little scar--" he pointed it out, "by her eye, from when she fell off the swing? Her accent. And sometimes--"
Yeah. Mitchell remembered that phase all too well. "It's fine," he said, "This is normal. It's part of the process." (And it never quite went away, he didn't say, didn't want to take the poor fucker's hope away. Hope was the only way they could manage this at all.)
"I don't know where it's come from. It's terrifying. It's like I'm being chased," the man-- Campbell. That was his name. Campbell stammered out.
"Campbell," Mitchell said, "You gotta stick it out, it happens. It's gonna keep happening, but then, it stops." A little white lie.
"It's happened to you too?" Campbell sounded almost desperate for something to hold on to.
"Yeah. All the time," Mitchell told him.
---
And then there was Lucy, the lovely lass who'd given him the idea for all this to begin with. He bumped into her again as he was heading up to the Portalocity station. She stopped him - but that was fine, he could stand to be a little later.
"Hey, look at you," Mitchell said, with a grin. She had a habit of chasing some of the worst of the gunk of the day away from him, and right now he really needed it. "You look like death."
"Thank you," she said, cheerfully. "Um, a week of-- nights. Now I'm going to go home and lie in bed for three days listening to roadworks!"
Mitchell's grin grew a notch. "Live the dream," he said. "But seriously, if you're too tired for Tuesday night, we can always--"
"Oh, no, you can't back out now. I've... already downloaded Nigella."
"You don't have to do that!" Mitchell protested, immediately.
"Yes, I do," Lucy retorted, "I want to impress you!"
"Look, you can bake it, boil it, hydrate it, whatever you wanna do," Mitchell said, waving his hands around. Though it was nice, really, that she wanted to make an effort. "I'm... cool with that. Do you want me to bring anything?"
She paused to think. "Um," she said, "A sense of humor?"
"All right," he laughed. She flashed him a smile, then slipped past him.
"I'll see you on Tuesday!" she called. "Eight o' clock, don't be late!"
---
And then, of course, Portalocity turned out to be 'down for maintenance' or some crap like that, so Mitchell had to postpone opening up the theater until tomorrow. He wandered back down to the house with his hands stuck in his pockets, trying not to think about any of the vampire-related shit and focusing on Lucy instead.
Things back at the house hadn't been all that brilliant, either. George had bought a cage, of all things, to transform him. At the latest full moon, he'd shot himself full of tranquilizers and turned in the cage. It had been a happy thing for him, knowing the werewolf had been asleep all night. They'd watched the surveillance footage together, and George had nearly tackled Mitchell off the couch with joy.
Which lasted right up until George found out that surpressing the wolf just meant it would come out worse during the rest of the month. Random anger attacks, fits of Tourettes, the works. Sufficient to say, he wasn't trying that again.
But none of that was going on now, as Mitchell came into the house to find Annie holding a baby.
A ghost baby.
Awwww.
"Handsome little bugger, isn't he?" Mitchell said, gazing down at the baby. This was definitely a good surprise to come home to.
"Have you ever wanted children?" Annie asked. She was sitting on the table now, watching it.
"I'd thought about it," Mitchell admitted. "You know, back when I was-- ah, I don't know. You have to be with the right person, don't you?" The baby laughed in his grasp. It was adorable.
"And not dead," Annie supplied.
Mitchell looked up. "Yeah," he agreed.
"And does it bother you now?" she wondered. "A lifetime without kids? A very long lifetime without kids?"
Mitchell let the kid grab his finger in his tiny hand, and smiled. "Does it bother you?" he asked. Annie didn't answer.
Instead, she got up and walked over towards Mitchell, and said, "Look, he likes this," and put her hands behind her ears so they looked bigger. "Hewwo, my name is George, that's my name, my name is George, and I--"
"Yeah, that's funny," George said, pacing into the kitchen, "Yeah, that's-- really funny."
Annie and Mitchell just grinned at him.
[[ nfb, and taken from Being Human 2x05 with references to 2x04 because I'm skipping ahead a bit. Warning: references to pedophilia. Open for phone calls, if you're anywhere where you can reach him ]]
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 01:04 pm (UTC)lovingly moddedsent away for the moment."I doubt that. I know I'll make it at least to thirty seven."
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 01:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 01:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 01:42 pm (UTC)Yeah, because you'd been too busy leading a self-help group for vampires to call anyone, Mitchell.
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 01:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 01:55 pm (UTC)"You hadn't exactly been around to watch me turning more and more into my mother over the years."
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 01:57 pm (UTC)Mitchell's voice sounded confused, but-- well. He knew most vampires in his universe didn't make it past a hundred.
Morbid thought, but true.
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 02:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 02:09 pm (UTC)a lot like series 3... kind of disturbing."It's not like you're sure that's going to be the actual future. It's probably some kind of potential-universe Fandom thing."
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 02:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 02:23 pm (UTC)There was a short silence.
"What do you know?"
George paused in his bustling about and glanced up. "Mitchell?"
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 02:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 02:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 03:08 pm (UTC)It was the single most surprising thing about the whole weekend, really.
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 03:09 pm (UTC)Ohjesusfuckingchrist.
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 03:18 pm (UTC)Just look at this one.
"Sorry I had to tell you this."
no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 03:20 pm (UTC)If she started talking about werewolf-shaped bullets, he was out of here.no subject
Date: 2011-04-10 03:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-11 05:43 am (UTC)