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chosehumanityThe house in Bristol had been filled with warmth, even at the worst of times; whether it was Annie's presence or just their collective bond, it had always felt like a home.
The house in Wales was everything the house in Bristol wasn't. It was cold and uninviting, and if it wasn't for the people living in it, Mitchell wouldn't have gone near it. But, with his surrogate little siblings long since graduated and gone, and his real family dead for long, long decades, they were all the family Mitchell had left.
Nina's room was a mess of cut-outs and newspaper clippings. She stalked through the house like a woman on a mission, cradling the book that had just come in the post.
"We're out of water. Again," George sighed, poking his head in. His eyes traveled towards the book. "What's this--? 'God's Blueprint'? By Professor... Lucy... Jaggat."
"I know, how fucking pretentious," Nina snarled.
"You ordered this on our-- address and phone number...?" George prompted.
Nina sighed. "I'm just-- trying to get into her head," she said. "Oh, and you know, the beardy guy who pushed all the buttons? His name was Lloyd Pinky, can you believe it?"
George sighed. "It's not your fault, Nina," he said.
It was a conversation they'd had a few million times over by now; it was also the conversation that, Mitchell felt, would probably be setting the tone for this particular Christmas. How fucking brilliant, right?
But, well. They were his family.
Mitchell snuck on and went back into the living room. It wouldn't be long before George joined him there. They didn't talk about that terrible time in their recent lives - George had at one point told him he didn't have the stomach for it, and Mitchell had accepted it. Hadn't bothered him with gruesome details of how close he'd come to murdering a lot of people on a vengeful bender.
So he carried on, like he did in Fandom. Was a little snarky, tried to be a little merry, but it was harder here, where this sense of loss was still so thick.
~
A little later in the day, darkness already creeping in, Mitchell stepped outside. He had been picked to go do a little shopping-- they weren't planning on a big Christmas meal or anything, but they did need eggs and milk and all of that shite.
He was barely a few steps out of the house when he saw her standing there, though. Looking like a drowned cat, a sorry expression on her face, as if she had just been vomited up by life itself.
Well, good. Lucy Jaggat didn't deserve better, in his opinion.
She walked towards him, dressed up in her purple raincoat, taking slow, tiny steps.
"Are you here on your own?" Mitchell snapped.
She nodded.
"What happened to Kemp?" he asked, when it became obvious she wouldn't say more than that.
Her head shook almost hesitantly. "I... I don't know," she said quietly. "That day after you left, it was insane, all the alarms--"
He didn't need to know. "How'd you find us?" he asked.
"Nina's been looking for me," Lucy said. "She's... left a bit of a paper trail." Her eyes fell to the floor. "I've already been to your old house, it was all locked up."
"We can't go back there," Mitchell said, sticking his hands in his pockets.
She shook her head, as if trying to deny that. "But we're not in any position to hurt you anymore," she said, and wasn't that nice? Wasn't that fucking nice? "It's over, there isn't even a we now anyway--"
"We can't," Mitchell snapped, and found himself unable to look her in the face. "Go back there because it was Annie's house and we lost her."
And Lucy... just stood there, staring at him with those big eyes.
"Now what do you want, Lucy?" he asked.
"The chamber was my idea," she admitted. "Four people died in there. Craig Ford. Amy McBride. Lee Tully. Richard Galvin." Something broke in her voice, and despite himself, Mitchell felt some-- understanding, some pity for her. "Their faces are the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see before I sleep." Her eyes dropped to the floor.
Mitchell stepped closer, wanting to catch that look on her face, trying to remind himself that he fucking hated this woman and what she'd done, and he was not going to pity her... just because he knew what that was like.
So he grabbed her by the collar and shoved her up against his car. "So it's death or forgiveness you're after?" he snapped. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me?! What you started? I should rip you apart with my hands."
Mitchell's forehead against hers, him struggling to get his rage under control. God, the things he'd almost done, the things-- and Annie--
"I've had to live with the things I've done for a long time," he snarled. "I think you should, too."
He let her go.
Lucy slumped back against the car.
He started walking. No pity. She didn't deserve it.
"Mitchell!" Lucy called out, crying now. "Please-- I need to see Nina and George!"
Mitchell paused mid-walk. "In terms of good ideas, that's up there with the chamber," he snapped.
"Mitchell, please," she yelled, "I don't have anywhere else to go!"
No pity. Come on. No sympathy. He could do this--
"You just had to pick the holidays to come back, didn't you?" he asked.
--
The first thing Nina did when she saw Lucy was slam her up against the wall so hard it jostled her head.
Merry fucking Christmas.
It was certainly going to be a grand one.
[[ NFB due to distance, NFI, OOC-okay, and taken and adapted from Being Human 2x8. mention of character death under the cut. to be continued over the next two days. ]]
The house in Wales was everything the house in Bristol wasn't. It was cold and uninviting, and if it wasn't for the people living in it, Mitchell wouldn't have gone near it. But, with his surrogate little siblings long since graduated and gone, and his real family dead for long, long decades, they were all the family Mitchell had left.
Nina's room was a mess of cut-outs and newspaper clippings. She stalked through the house like a woman on a mission, cradling the book that had just come in the post.
"We're out of water. Again," George sighed, poking his head in. His eyes traveled towards the book. "What's this--? 'God's Blueprint'? By Professor... Lucy... Jaggat."
"I know, how fucking pretentious," Nina snarled.
"You ordered this on our-- address and phone number...?" George prompted.
Nina sighed. "I'm just-- trying to get into her head," she said. "Oh, and you know, the beardy guy who pushed all the buttons? His name was Lloyd Pinky, can you believe it?"
George sighed. "It's not your fault, Nina," he said.
It was a conversation they'd had a few million times over by now; it was also the conversation that, Mitchell felt, would probably be setting the tone for this particular Christmas. How fucking brilliant, right?
But, well. They were his family.
Mitchell snuck on and went back into the living room. It wouldn't be long before George joined him there. They didn't talk about that terrible time in their recent lives - George had at one point told him he didn't have the stomach for it, and Mitchell had accepted it. Hadn't bothered him with gruesome details of how close he'd come to murdering a lot of people on a vengeful bender.
So he carried on, like he did in Fandom. Was a little snarky, tried to be a little merry, but it was harder here, where this sense of loss was still so thick.
~
A little later in the day, darkness already creeping in, Mitchell stepped outside. He had been picked to go do a little shopping-- they weren't planning on a big Christmas meal or anything, but they did need eggs and milk and all of that shite.
He was barely a few steps out of the house when he saw her standing there, though. Looking like a drowned cat, a sorry expression on her face, as if she had just been vomited up by life itself.
Well, good. Lucy Jaggat didn't deserve better, in his opinion.
She walked towards him, dressed up in her purple raincoat, taking slow, tiny steps.
"Are you here on your own?" Mitchell snapped.
She nodded.
"What happened to Kemp?" he asked, when it became obvious she wouldn't say more than that.
Her head shook almost hesitantly. "I... I don't know," she said quietly. "That day after you left, it was insane, all the alarms--"
He didn't need to know. "How'd you find us?" he asked.
"Nina's been looking for me," Lucy said. "She's... left a bit of a paper trail." Her eyes fell to the floor. "I've already been to your old house, it was all locked up."
"We can't go back there," Mitchell said, sticking his hands in his pockets.
She shook her head, as if trying to deny that. "But we're not in any position to hurt you anymore," she said, and wasn't that nice? Wasn't that fucking nice? "It's over, there isn't even a we now anyway--"
"We can't," Mitchell snapped, and found himself unable to look her in the face. "Go back there because it was Annie's house and we lost her."
And Lucy... just stood there, staring at him with those big eyes.
"Now what do you want, Lucy?" he asked.
"The chamber was my idea," she admitted. "Four people died in there. Craig Ford. Amy McBride. Lee Tully. Richard Galvin." Something broke in her voice, and despite himself, Mitchell felt some-- understanding, some pity for her. "Their faces are the first thing I see when I wake up and the last thing I see before I sleep." Her eyes dropped to the floor.
Mitchell stepped closer, wanting to catch that look on her face, trying to remind himself that he fucking hated this woman and what she'd done, and he was not going to pity her... just because he knew what that was like.
So he grabbed her by the collar and shoved her up against his car. "So it's death or forgiveness you're after?" he snapped. "Do you have any idea what you've done to me?! What you started? I should rip you apart with my hands."
Mitchell's forehead against hers, him struggling to get his rage under control. God, the things he'd almost done, the things-- and Annie--
"I've had to live with the things I've done for a long time," he snarled. "I think you should, too."
He let her go.
Lucy slumped back against the car.
He started walking. No pity. She didn't deserve it.
"Mitchell!" Lucy called out, crying now. "Please-- I need to see Nina and George!"
Mitchell paused mid-walk. "In terms of good ideas, that's up there with the chamber," he snapped.
"Mitchell, please," she yelled, "I don't have anywhere else to go!"
No pity. Come on. No sympathy. He could do this--
"You just had to pick the holidays to come back, didn't you?" he asked.
--
The first thing Nina did when she saw Lucy was slam her up against the wall so hard it jostled her head.
Merry fucking Christmas.
It was certainly going to be a grand one.
[[ NFB due to distance, NFI, OOC-okay, and taken and adapted from Being Human 2x8. mention of character death under the cut. to be continued over the next two days. ]]
no subject
Date: 2011-12-24 02:53 am (UTC)