A Hospital, Barry Island, Wales, Tuesday

[chosehumanity]

"Sean Hancock, diagnosed a year ago with malignant melanoma, secondaries in the brain and lung. He's on a morphine infusion and maintenance but his condition's deteriorating rapidly. If there's any time, it's now."

Mitchell paced through the hospital halls, Nina on one side and George on the other. It had been a while since he'd worked in one, but the smell of it - that, you never forgot.

"Wait, wait," George said, coming to a full stop. "Wait a sec-- You're doing this now? But it's a full moon tonight! And we just moved into a new house - there's enough going on without you crossing over into the afterlife!"

"We might have to wait weeks for another opportunity like this," Nina pointed out.

"There could be consequences," George hissed.

And Mitchell, being that stellar example of great life choices that he was, replied, "I don't care about the consequences. She's a friend and we lost her!" Why couldn't George just see it that way?

"I'm not about to lose you as well!" George snapped.

"I'm doing this," Mitchell said simply. He was not going to deal with George's bloody freak-out - this had to be done. "I'll take everything they've got. Death, God, the Devil, none of it frightens me."

George fixed him with a long, hard stare.

"Well, I feel totally reassured."

Between them, Nina released a sigh. "Look, we all saw Annie in that cottage. We saw how terrified she was. And this is the only... idea we've got!"

Funny how things changed - a year ago, Nina would not have been so eagerly on Mitchell's side.

"See?" Mitchell said.

"Though I want one of us in there with you," Nina continued, turning towards him.

Wait, what?

"What?"

"Death is a... personal, private moment," she said, sounding quite serious. "And we're gate-crashing. I want that man treated with dignity and kindness."

And, her expression seemed to say, she was more than happy to tear his throat out if he didn't.

"Fine," he muttered. "Let's go see Sean, then, shall we?"

Mitchell pulled out his phone and sent out a few texts to the usual suspects. Going to save Annie tonight.

He was not always the most detailed.

[[ continued in the comments, taken from Being Human 3x01 and open to texts! wait for the ocd up... ]]

Comments

IC: Texts!

[chosehumanity]

In case you want to text Mitchell back for whatever reason. No phone calls, though. Shh, it's a hospital.

Re: IC: Texts!

[bitten_notshy]

Jack was not exactly in a frame of mind to remember his phone existed for the first several hours of the morning. Eventually, though -- with a belly full of the most human food he could manage and about six cups of coffee in him -- he remembered it and thumbed through his messages.

And stared at Mitchell's for a long moment.

Finally:

really? be safe. p.s., werewolf business fucking hurts. but got thru 1st nite ok.

He was, for versions of "okay" that included "I'm fairly certain I ate a mutant alligator last night", but that seemed a bit alarming to put into a text for someone who was headed off to save a ghost from purgatory.

.. and their lives really were completely insane.

[OOC: Heading afk shortly, back in 3 hours-ish.]

Re: IC: Texts!

[chosehumanity]

Working on it. George asks if you ate anything big.

George knew these things.

Re: IC: Texts!

[bitten_notshy]

Dammit, George, some things were private.

Oh well.

pretty sure there was a sewer alligator in there, Jack shared, after just a moment's pause. in nyc. can verify not a myth. how are you going after annie?

Because talking about someone else's questionable life choices was ever so much more rewarding.

Re: IC: Texts!

[chosehumanity]

borrowing someone else's door, Mitchell wrote.

Mitchell's questionable life choices were always epic train wrecks of great drama...

Re: IC: Texts!

[bitten_notshy]

Jack frowned and blinked at his phone for a minute.

won't that kill you for good? and will it even let you thru?

There were other things wrong with this plan, but those were the most immediate.

Re: IC: Texts!

[vanillajello]

Kate was in Tulsa. Wasn't she always, really, these days? This time, it involved browsing the sparse selection of paperback books at one of the stores at the airport, sighing at the bad weather that threatened to cancel her flight back to Kansas, and idly checking her phone.

Except that last bit got a little less idle when she noticed Mitchell's message. In fact she kind of froze, for a moment. And then texted back.

how?

As soon as she'd pressed Send she realized she probably didn't even want to know.

Re: IC: Texts!

[chosehumanity]

At hospital. borrowing someone's door.

Because that wasn't terrifying at all.

Re: IC: Texts!

[vanillajello]

Well, it wasn't if you didn't understand what that meant!

Not that that stopped Kate from worrying.

door?

Re: IC: Texts!

[chosehumanity]

when you die there's a door annie stayed here because she didn't go through hers.

Yep. Sensemaking, he had it.

Re: IC: Texts!

[nookiepowered]

Define save. Define GOING.

Re: IC: Texts!

[chosehumanity]

i'm going into the afterlife to find her?

This did not sound less insane the more often you wrote it, Mitchell.

Re: IC: Texts!

[nookiepowered]

I KNOW you did not just say you're gonna kill yourself.

Re: IC: Texts!

[chosehumanity]

i'm not. i'm taking an alternate route.

Re: IC: Texts!

[texted3times]

Eric checked his messages and rolled his eyes at Mitchell's.

HOW

Re: IC: Texts!

[chosehumanity]

hitching a ride on someone's death door.

MITCHELL. THAT REALLY DID NOT GET ANY MORE SANE. No matter how you phrased it.

Re: IC: Texts!

[texted3times]

Just how stupid are you?

Very diplomatic, Eric.

Re: IC: Texts!

[chosehumanity]

its the only way.

Mitchell, remember your punctuation.

IC: And Cont'd...

[chosehumanity]

In which George and Mitchell pass the time with a dying man.

Re: IC: And Cont'd...

[chosehumanity]

The man really did look terrible - pale, operation scars still visible here and there, tubes coming out everywhere. Nina had been right, he wouldn't be long. Mitchell could smell it.

He settled down by the man's side with a magazine, and George sat down on the other side of the bed.

Right.

He looked at the man's face, and tried to settle himself. Crossing over into the afterlife - walking into... purgatory, heaven, hell, whatever laid beyond? He had to focus. Figure this out. Plan out his steps.

He took a deep breath and stared down at the puzzle book in his hands like it had some kind of significance. Centering himself...

"Shema yisrael adonai eloheinu," George chanted, completely shattering Mitchell's concentration. "Adonai echad..."

Mitchell eyed him. "What's that you're doing?"

"It's a prayer," George said, looking up from his clasped hands. "It's Jewish."

Mitchell pulled a face. "Yeah," he drawled, "I'm not great with religious rituals." What with being a vampire and all...

In return, George also pulled a face. "Mhmm," he said. "Tough."

... Seriously?

Mitchell's eyes shot back to the man - Sean - as he ran that back in his head. "Is he even Jewish?"

"Doesn't matter," George said, releasing his death grip on his own hands to gesture wildly at the man. "His body's let him down, medicine's let him down. It's a gesture of sympathy."

"I'm trying to get in the zone here," Mitchell shot back. It's like George didn't even realise what they were doing here!

"Yeah, well--" George clasped his hands together again. "I refer to my earlier statement of, 'Tough.'"

Christ.

Of course, then George chose to pick up his chant while staring defiantly at Mitchell, which was just asshole behaviour. "Shema Yisrael..."

Then he fell silent.

And was silent for a little while longer.

And then finally released a spiteful breath and muttered, "I can't remember the rest."

Mitchell turned his attention back to his puzzle book.

Re: IC: And Cont'd...

[chosehumanity]

It was silent for a while.

"Five letters. Something. Something, 'a', something, something, something. The clue is just the letters H I J K L M N O..."

"Mitchell!"

Okay, so having been undead for as long as Mitchell had been might have somewhat destroyed his ability to be properly impressed by the dying.

"...The answer's water," George said, after a beat.

Water? Mitchell squinted at him.

"Yes, it's the letters," George said, gesticulating to make his point. "H to O. H2O? It's the molecular formula for water."

Hey, that was actually kind of clever! Mitchell pointed at him triumphantly, grinning. "Get in!" he called.

He snagged his pen and began to write it down, cheerfully ignoring the Look George was still giving him.

And still giving him.

And still--

"Okay," George said, "Give me another one--"

And that was the last thing Sean Hancock heard as his organs gave up on him and he flatlined.

Re: IC: And Cont'd...

[chosehumanity]

It all lasted little more than a few seconds: Sean gasped, then stopped breathing, sank into the mattress, and the devices around him started squealing.

"...is that it?" Mitchell asked. "Is he dead now?"

"That's me!"

The voice came from behind them. George and Mitchell spun around immediately, and caught sight of a ghost in his hospital pajamas.

"Shit," the ghost muttered, "I look awful."

Right. "Sean," Mitchell said. "Isn't it?" He should probably do more - something comforting. He put his puzzle book aside. "Sean, you've been very ill."

He took a step forward, trying to think about how to do this. Released a breath he didn't need. "I'm so sorry, but I'm afraid you've just died."

Sean took a moment, but not much more than that. Whether it was because he was containing his fear or because he had simply come around to accepting that this quickly, Mitchell couldn't tell. "What happens now?"

"You're going on a journey," Mitchell said, a smile sliding onto his face. Reassuring. He could do that. Sean took a step back, and the look on his face was frightened this time-- "No, it's okay. It's cool. I'm coming with you."

"Are you..." Sean said slowly, "...Death?"

Mitchell frowned. Wait, what--? "No," he said. "No, I'm not... Death."

Okay, so much for handling this.

George took over for him, thankfully. "Sean? Hi. This is... John. He's going to make sure you get there safely."

That actually brought a smile to Sean's face.

It was enough to bring his door into being, and Sean turned his head slowly in its general direction. "...What's that?"

"That's for you," George said. He nodded gently, smiling as reassuring as Mitchell had ever seen him. "That's what happens next."

And that meant it was Mitchell's time to go.

Fuck.

"Okay, boys," he said, "Let's get going." He shook his arms out to try and release some tension out of them. It didn't really work. Neither did trying to open the door himself, actually. "Oh, yeah, you need to get it."

Wrong thing to say, apparently. Going by the wide-eyed look George was giving him.

Right, right.

"Right, when you're ready," Mitchell muttered. "Take your time."

"Goodbye, Sean," George said softly.

Sean nodded. Smiled again. Turned for the door.

George met Mitchell's eyes.

Yeah. Be safe. And George wasn't happy with it. Mitchell knew all of that. He just didn't really have a choice.

Then Sean opened his door, and light spilled out; his hand shot out and clasped Mitchell's tightly, as if he were a lifeline, and Mitchell turned again.

"Is this it?" Sean asked, looking up at Mitchell's face as if he was trying to find some kind of answer. "Is it over now?"

"Yeah," Mitchell said quietly. "You did good, Sean. You can rest now."

Sean stepped into the light, became too bright to see. Mitchell, gripping the door to keep it open long enough to pass with him, paused.

"... none of this is your fault," he said. "Anything-- anything that happened would have happened a lot sooner and a lot worse if I hadn't have met you."

George didn't look at him.

"Just come back," he whispered.

Mitchell nodded, a shallow little thing, and then he vanished into the light.

OOC

[chosehumanity]

For everything else. Mitchell will be gone for a couple of days after this, la la. Dumbass.

Re: OOC

[whenshewasnice]

Dear Mitchell: EVERYONE HATES ALL YOUR PLANS. ALL OF THEM.

Re: OOC

[chosehumanity]

At least this time he won't have to deal with a pissed-off victim's ghost trying to drive him insane?