One of God's children

It was a nice, crisp Friday afternoon, with little moments of sunlight in between. Inside the hospital, Mitchell couldn't catch much of it, which was just as well. He was not a big fan of the sun. In fact, the lack of sunlight was making him nostalgic for the short periods of time where he'd worked here.

( And if the day was further brightened by him running into a familiar face... )

[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay, and spoilers for Being Human 2x02. More coming up soon. ]]

After kicking Hannibal off the island, Mitchell hadn't really felt much like staying. It was starting to feel like everything ever was falling back into shit on him, and he just wanted ... something. Something nice. Something good. Something that wasn't about crying teenagers, or sitting at home feeling useless, or beating up stupid fledglings with more balls than sense.

So he figured he'd go look up George at hospital, see how he was coming along, try very hard not to bring up Nina's condition... ...except George had, upon arrival, immediately informed him that he was busy, go hang about the restrooms or something, skulking's what you do best.

Which was lovely. Really.

He sighed, and ( pushed into the bathroom. )

[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay, and taken from Being Human S2E01! ]]

It had been the full moon last night. The final test of Mitchell's suspicions about Nina. She had vanished early on in the evening, and she hadn't come back - that was a bad sign all on its own. Now Mitchell sat by the door, waiting. Just waiting. Waiting, until someone turned the keys in the lock, and the door opened in front of him.

Nina stepped through. Annie behind her. The expression on both of their faces said all, really, especially when Nina turned, and stared down at Mitchell.

A few seconds of silence passed.

( 'You knew,' she said. )

[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay, and taken from Being Human 2x01 ]]

Mitchell was planning on heading back up to Bristol sometime ... soon. If he was entirely truthful, he wasn't looking forward to his trips quite as much as he used to. The tension in the house had been racking up lately, and Ivan's warnings still rang heavily in his mind.

So: procrastination. Namely by hanging in front of the telly with a bag of crisps (occasionally using the machine in question for target practice if someone really annoying was on). He had a Portalocity subscription, after all. He could miss a portal if he wanted to.

Yep.

Ah, Friday afternoons.

[[ for his partner in DAMMIT. ]]

Mitchell was cooking.

In the context of language in general, that wasn't a particularly strange sentence; in the context of this particular household, it was a bizarre aberration that would certainly lead to the apocalypse. George usually cooked, and if he didn't, then Annie did the job for him - Mitchell's dependability near a stove was questionable at best.

But Annie had spent the night guarding over the others. Kate had been granted Annie's room, and Jack the sofa-- Nina was sleeping off her own intense mental exhaustion in George's bedroom, and if you asked Mitchell, he'd say he wasn't expecting her to get up any time soon.

So, breakfast for three it was. Three malformed, droopy eggs stared back up at Mitchell, and the beans in the other pan were starting to burn just a little bit (the toast, on the other hand, was fine, but then it was impossible even for Mitchell to ruin toast), but at least he was trying.

Annie had insisted on making the coffee, though, and Mitchell wasn't going to argue. He'd have to go pick up George in another hour - the werewolf always slept late after a full moon.

[[ for those still in Bristol. ]]

Mitchell had asked Kate in Fandom, and called Jack; somehow it felt important for them to be there, as they'd been there for a lot of the insanity of the past year in Bristol. They had arrived sometime during the day, both a nice distraction from Annie's angry, charged silences and George's quiet, guilty glances.

Though in some ways, Kate's anger wasn't much better, either.

But time passed by, and Mitchell knew he couldn't stick around forever. So he called them all into the living room. To send George off to his new life, to make amends with Annie, to say goodbye.

( The silence was a little deafening, all in all, now that Mitchell was back and George was-- everything. )

[[ nfb, nfi, ooc-okay; preplayed with the amazing bitten_notshy and vanillajello. Adapted from Being Human 1x06. More to follow; follows from here ]]

( 'Didn't expect to see you up and about so soon.' )

"So what are you going to do now?" George prompted.

"I'm heading back to Fandom," he said. "There's a few people I need to talk to, first."

[[ nfb, nfi, OOC-okay, taken and tweaked from Being Human 1x06 ]]

They had moved Mitchell to a different ward overnight. For study, they'd said. He knew this wasn't a good thing, that this could only end badly, and that he was looking forward to spending the rest of his unlife being prodded at by researchers at the rate he was going.

He stared up at the ceiling, ticking away the hours in his head. He felt so weak, like he hadn't in decades, strung out and empty and nearly unable to move. He could hear the heart monitor, the doctors and nurses moving about, and the sound of Josie's wheelchair coming closer.

( 'My body can't make new blood', he said. )

[[ nfb, OOC-okay, and taken from Being Human 1x06. Warning: character death. open to anyone in bristol who might want to find them after, before the nurses come in ]]