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"Annie's Gift"
| "Being Human" Season | One |
| Rating: | T |
| Pairings: | Mitchell / Annie |
| Characters: | Mitchell, Annie |
| Disclaimer: | This is a work of fan fiction, not for sale or profit, all rights belong to BBC. |
“Mitchell, you’re sure that Nina is--”
“A werewolf. Yes, I am." Mitchell spat out the words in a harsher tone than he wanted to, then gave an apologetic look to Annie. And if George had been there to hear the voice with which his best friend spoke in, there’d have certainly been another apology to make, not to mention the burden of guilt that George's wounded expression would've brought to Mitchell's heart.
But George had gone in to work early that day, not only desperate for the distraction so soon after his transformation, but also caught up in the early blush of love. Simply put, George wanted to spend more time at the hospital with Nina. To which, nobody could blame him… envy him, perhaps, but not blame him.
He killed.
The thought plagued Mitchell horribly, because gentle, quiet George hadn’t just killed. Worse, he'd done it deliberately; there had been pre-meditation involved. George had directed Herrick to the depths of the hospital, to the confinement room from which there could be no escape… away from the showdown on the hospital roof that Mitchell had been expecting with his former cohort. While George’s goal had been to protect all three of them, and the rest of the world in a larger sense, Mitchell could tell that George had found another side of himself in killing Herrick. He knew that no matter how much George might try to deny it in future, there had been pleasure in the act for him. He’d enjoyed bringing a bloody end to Herrick. And that newly-hone edge of cruelty did not mix with Mitchell's impression of the man that he had befriended.
Mitchell shook such unpleasant thoughts out of his mind as he guided Annie to the closed door of her bedroom with a brave face, but Annie--sensitive as always--could not so easily dismiss the topic.
She put a hand up to her face as she and Mitchell came to a stop. “Oh, poor Nina… you’re sure about this?“"
“Quite sure, unfortunately.”
Her soft, charming worry-lines crinkled her forehead, and Mitchell gently reached up to brush at them, as if he could take them away with the touch of his hand.
“How can you be so sure?” Annie asked, almost desperately, clearly hoping that Mitchell could be wrong in his statement.
But Mitchell shook his head. “I could smell it in her blood. I didn’t pay any attention at first, when we all came back to the flat together. After all, with George there, I had no reason to question where that particular smell was coming from. But when she left yesterday and she passed by me at the front door, I…” He swallowed. “I was able to distinguish their separate smells. And her blood is… sweeter… freshly changed. It‘s there,” he finished.
Annie let out a shudder. “Poor girl. D’you suppose we should talk to her?”
“If anything, we should talk to George. I don’t think he knows. He thinks the familiarity that he saw the other night through the peephole was just his love for Nina overpowering him, not that she‘s one of his kind now. Or that he‘s the one who must’ve done it… when he pushed her towards me, I think… but let’s never mind that now.” The impish grin that Mitchell had worn downstairs, when he’d informed her that he’d bought her a gift, returned and he put a hand on the doorknob to Annie’s room. “I hope you like your gift. I couldn‘t help myself, you know? I saw it and I said to myself, ‘That‘s Annie’s! I know it!’ and--”
“Oh!” Annie gave him a playful punch on the chest with both hands. “Will you open the door, already? Gawd!”
He chuckled. “Do you have any idea how paranoid I was that you wouldn’t keep your word? That you’d suddenly pop back in before I had it all set up?”
“Mitchell!” Annie gave an excited squeal and tucked her hands under her chin, bouncing up and down a bit with anticipation. “Open the damned door, already!”
Grinning with pleasure, Mitchell popped open the door and pushed it in, and the two stepped through to see Annie’s present.
“Oh…”
The sound drifted out of Annie’s mouth softly, and Mitchell felt his smile falter. He’d been trying, despite the blood-hunger in his vampire soul, despite the alternating positive and negative attention from the neighbors, despite the deep-seated knowledge that the three of them could never truly be “normal” to strive for normalcy. His flatmates had, at various times, accepted and rejected their friend’s attempts to mainstream their lives even as Mitchell himself struggled with the notion. Now, uncertainty crept into him. Mitchell didn’t know which phase Annie would fall into.
“It’s lovely, Mitchell… I‘ve never seen anything so lovely…”
The words came out of Annie’s mouth in the same ethereal tone which she’d uttered upon first seeing it, and he felt the tension within him loosen as she accepted the gift. Mitchell’s smile returned, albeit on top of a relieved and grateful expression. He stayed close to the door while she slowly walked across the room. The beautiful bed that stood against the far wall, decorated with all the skill that Mitchell could muster (and with the guidance of photos from a home furnishings magazine). It fit perfectly into Annie’s room.
Indeed, when Mitchell had first spotted the dismantled bed in the antiques store several blocks away, the sight of the ornate metal headboard held him transfixed; it almost felt as if he’d walked into a pawn shop to find a piece of jewelry there, one stolen from him years ago but which he’d never forgotten about. He’d bought it immediately and, still inspired by the very sight of the bed, went out and picked up several pillows of various sizes to enhance it. He even opted for high-end sheets and an expensive silk bed throw to complete the look, so infatuated by the idea of giving such a splendid gift that he found himself willing to accept the financial burden on her behalf. Annie eased herself down onto the corner of the bed, one hand extended to caress the silk throw.
“I‘ve never really had my own bed, you know,” she said softly. “Here, I’ve been content to have my chair--” Annie and Mitchell’s gaze drifted across to the overstuffed chair with its red-and-gold cloth covering. “--and before that, I was in Owen’s bed. And before that, there was the bed at university. Then when I was a child, it wasn’t my bed. My parents picked it out. Not one of them was really mine, you know? But now…” A gentle smile crept over her features, and Annie leaned back, then rolled onto her side and stared at Mitchell. “It’s exactly the kind of bed that I’d have bought for myself, Mitchell. It’s as if you read my mind.”
Mitchell’s eyebrow came up in a sarcastic twitch. “I thought about adding a monkey ottoman. You know, with the ears and tail hanging out the side of it? But I figured that kind of thing would go better in George’s room.”
Annie snickered at the thought, then shifted her position on the bed until she lay on it properly, with her beautiful brown curls resting against the decorative pillows and her hands cupped across her stomach.
“Perhaps now you can try to get some proper rest.”
She caught the intonation in his voice and gave him an amused glance. “Mitchell, I don’t think sleep is any more of a necessary element than food and drink for me any more.” She snuggled herself into the bed. “But it is going to be worth the effort. This is so wondeful!”
“Best piece of furniture in the house, I think.”
“Without a doubt,” Annie agreed. She patted the space next to her. “Come on, then. Lie down with me.”
Mitchell felt himself let out an unexpected chuckle and rubbed at his brow. “I don’t think that’s the nature of our relationship, Annie.”
“Oh, please. It’s not as if I’m asking for a shag. Now, come on. If I’m going to be in bed, I’m going to have a man in it with me.” She thumped her palm against the bed again. “Come on!”
He cocked his head to one side, his smile fading. “Why?”
“Why what?”
Mitchell stepped up to the foot of the bed and looked down at Annie with obvious confusion, then sat down next to her.
“Why can’t you just…” He stopped, then tried again. “Annie, you’re not Owen’s property any more. No one owns you. No one ever has. And it just… I don’t know. I don’t get the feeling that you ever defined who you were as an individual. I want you to be happy with who you are, and what you are.”
“And yet you buy me a bed,” she pointed out. “Something meant for the living. This is the place where the majority of one’s life is spent, after all. A place to rest and recover from the day‘s work. To make love. To be at peace.”
“Annie…”
“Mitchell, please.” She reached out her arms to him. “Lie down with me. For company. Perhaps I can’t feel things like I used to, but I still have feelings.”
Mitchell sighed and stretched himself out beside her, and their arms came around each other.
Annie smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome.” He swallowed and reached up to brush her hair out of her face. “Annie, nothing can ever happen between us, you know,” he reminded her gently. “You’re dead, I’m a vampire…”
“And we’re safe here, Mitchell. We can’t hurt one another. Remember that.” She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps I am someone that needs to be comfortable with themselves alone, but you also need to be less skittish. Less afraid. You walk around, almost terrified of what you might do if someone gets too close to you and you lose control. Eggshells, Mitchell. You say that you can smell blood, eh? Well, I might not have a sense of smell, but I can smell your fear.”
Annie brought his hand up and gave it a little kiss, holding his finger to her lip for a prolonged time. Mitchell had once accidentally kissed her, and he’d described it “like kissing someone that’s come in from the cold.” The same chilled feeling crept over him, but he forced himself not to shiver and spoil the tender moment. He watched her lower his hand from her mouth with a sense of relief, as any random thoughts about sex with a ghost evaporated from his mind; if she’d chilled his finger with a mere touch, he hated to ponder what the rest of her ghostly form would do to his more delicate parts.
“I’ll try to see if I can relax,” Annie said softly. “But please, Mitchell. You need to do the same. I know that you’re a light sleeper. I’ve seen slightest noise pull you out of sleep and back to full consciousness. That’s got to wear on you, doesn’t it?”
“Aye.”
Mitchell couldn’t even begin to explain how much his restless vampire nature kept genuine rest from being a possibility. Just like he could find no escape from the ever-burning hunger in his blood, true rest eluded him. He’d played with the idea of going for the old-fashioned method--getting himself a coffin, in a mausoleum or a crypt somewhere, enjoying the silence of the dead--but echoes of his once-prevalent humanity still rang in his head. And he wanted a normal life at least in that one regard. So he let himself suffer with uncomfortable mattresses and street noises and the usual inconveniences of reality. Mitchell had to admit to himself that in some sadistic turn, he’d come to enjoy some of the parts of his overall suffering.
“Lie here with me?” Annie begged him. “Please?” Mitchell nodded and moved closer to her as Annie turned onto her side, with her back to him.
The two snuggled next to one another and closed their eyes, simply enjoying one another‘s company… and, at least, pretended to rest for a while.
monsterbyproxy |
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| Started By | Thread Subject | Replies | Last Post | ||
|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Mohawk_Girl | Annie's Gift | 0 | Jan 29 2012, 6:41 PM EST by Mohawk_Girl | ||
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Thread started: Jan 29 2012, 6:41 PM EST
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This is very sweet and well-written. I hope the 2 can cuddle. Shouldn't Mitchell be cold? He's dead too.
I don't see the author's name here, but I hope you'll write again. |
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