Being Human Fic: A Chance Meeting
Title: A Chance Meeting
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A chance meeting between Mitchell and George.
Spoilers: None really.
Disclaimer: Not mine never were.
Beta: madtheo
Author's Notes: Okay so this was written, just I think maybe after the second episode so it was before we found out everything we did in the last episode. So obviously this is going to be slightly AU from Canon.
It was the smell of blood that Mitchell was following down the corridor. A scent that drew him even as it confused him; there was a tang of something else in it, something he couldn’t quite place. He tilted his head to the side, as though trying to listen for something, as he walked the deserted corridor.
It’s not that the odour itself was unusual in a hospital, people came in with open wounds all the time, but being aware of the smell didn’t mean he always noticed it. But this, this was something he hadn’t smelt for a very long time; a titillating memory, just out of reach.
Mitchell came to a stop at a side room, looked at the drawn curtains and hesitated. Frowning, he looked over his shoulder; he had every right to be in the area but no excuse for this particular room. Yet he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away once he stepped through the door. Through the door and over to the source of that smell.
The person on the other side of the room shifted and tantalizing whiffs of hot, fresh life slipped through the cloth barrier. He felt his hands start to shake as his senses suddenly heightened: the heartbeats from the patient behind the curtain echoing with deafening bangs in his head; the chilly draft coming from the vent overhead prickling over his skin and making it tingle; the scene in front of him becoming brighter, more crystalline. His chest rose and fell, despite his not needing any air, the rapid influx of sensations making him pant.
His trembling hands reached out, gripping the door handle, the power behind them enough to tear the door off its hinges. The need to see, to taste, to drink was becoming overwhelming. He was just pushing down the handle when someone touched his shoulder. Mitchell spun around, blinking quickly to hide what had been rising in him. He stared in confusion at the nurse for a moment before it registered that she was speaking to him.
“Sorry?” he asked smiling, charming her.
“I said ya can’t go in there,” replied the nurse. “It’s not safe.”
“Why?” What could possibly be worse than him in this hospital?
“Ya just can’t,” replied the nurse stubbornly. “Doctor’s orders”
“Who’s in there?” Mitchell asked, stopping the nurse with a hand on her arm as she went to continue her rounds.
“I can’t say. Best get back to work; don’t want ya landing in trouble.”
Mitchell knew a warning when he heard one; he smiled at the petite nurse again before letting go of her arm. He walked away from the room, forcing himself away from the delicious smell that had enticed him here in the first place
***
Mitchell went by the room a few more times during the next few days but there always seemed to be someone lurking about, be it a nurse, an orderly or a doctor. And there had been a rumour floating about the hospital of a person having been hurt so badly they’d gone insane. Mitchell had laughed at that last bit; insane indeed. They didn’t know the meaning of the word.
So here he was, stood outside smoking, trying to ignore the lure of that all too intoxicating smell. Taking the final drag, he turned to head back inside when movement caught his eye. Mitchell paused; people weren’t usually out by this corner of the hospital as the wind was a bit more cutting due to the angle of the building and the way it caught the wintery air. Curiosity getting the better of him, he set off to see who was in the alcove, ignoring his brief moment of anxiousness; he wouldn’t put it past Herrick to send one of his minions down to have an informal chat about things.
Walking around the corner he stopped short at the sight. There was a man sitting on the ground, back against the wall, shivering in the chilly air and looking as though he were trying to make himself invisible. As the man shifted, Mitchell caught smell of that blood again; it was coming from the small man.
“I…I know you’re there,” said the man, his voice high and trembling. “J-Just leave me alone.”
Mitchell took a step forward. He hadn’t yet spoken when the man lifted his head and looked Mitchell straight in the eye. The fear in his glare made Mitchell stop; it was such a young man in front of him, a young man that had been inflicted. For Mitchell now knew why this mans blood smelt so different and why the rumours had started. Mitchell felt something in his stomach tighten, why did this happen to someone so young?
He took another step forward. “Ya can’t stay out here. They’ll notice you’re gone.”
“I…I don’t care!” defiance was clear in the high pitched voice.
“I’m Mitchell, by the way,”
“What?” the voice wasn’t so panicky this time.
“My name: it’s Mitchell. Figured since you found my spot I best introduce myself,” he was rambling. God, since when did he ramble?
“I don’t care!” screeched the man. Mitchell could hear the shuddering intake of breath before the man spoke again. “I don’t…I don’t want to know what your name is! I want to be left alone!”
“So why come out here?” Mitchell asked.
“Huh?”
“You came out here looking for solitude yet you knew there was a chance you’d run into someone,” replied Mitchell, taking another step forward. “Lucky you ran into me, really.”
The vampire kept the tone of his voice calm, level, and it seemed to be having the soothing effect he was aiming for. He inched closer very slowly, trying to keep the forced intimacy unobtrusive. Stopping a few steps away from the unnerved man, Mitchell could see his entire body almost vibrating in fear. He could also just make out the white gauze underneath the hospital top; he had two guesses as to what was under that bandage.
“How did ya find this area?” Mitchell asked.
“I just sorta…I just did, all right? Can’t you leave me alone?”
“No. Besides it not safe out here,” said Mitchell quietly, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be reassuring the young man, not making things worse with words of doom and gloom.
Mitchell shook his head at his own insensitivity and sat on the cold pavement next to the stranger. He stretched his legs out a moment before tucking a leg close to him and pulling out another cigarette. Mitchell could feel the man tense next to him and was half expecting him to bolt, so he was surprised when all the man did was shuffle away slightly.
“George,” said the man.
“What about him?” Mitchell asked, resting his arm on his knee.
“T-that’s my name,” answered George cautiously.
“Well, George, it’s nice to meet ya. I’m Mitchell,” he replied, holding a hand out.
He saw George hesitate before the hand was grasped; he smiled then. It looked as though he’d made a new friend.
“You’ve…um…got very cold hands,” said George quickly.
Mitchell laughed. “Yeah, curse of what I am,”
“And what are you?”
The smile slipped from Mitchell’s face as he studied the younger man. If he told George what he was, he could guess what the skittish man’s reaction would be: he’d either call him a liar or have a full blown freak out. But given the suspicions Mitchell had of the stranger before him, what if there was a third option?
“You don’t want to know,” mumbled Mitchell, looking away. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to take the chance on a bad response.
“No, I do, really,” George insisted, putting a hand on Mitchell’s shoulder.
Mitchell finally looked back to George, a small smile on his face. He tilted his head in apparent amusement. “You should know. It’s why you’re here, how you managed to know where I was; you sensed it.” He felt the hand drop away. “Come on, George, you know why you came out here, where no one except me goes…”
George’s eyes had widened. “You’re gay. That’s it, isn’t it?” That panicked squeal was making its return. “You’re gay and you’re hitting on me!” He shuffled back, putting a good foot between himself and the darker haired man. “Well, you can just shove off then, cos I don’t bend that way.” He turned away, giving his back to the vampire.
Mitchell let out a startled laugh. “What? No! That’s not what I mean at all! And if I was I certainly wouldn’t be chatting up a -“ He stopped, suddenly serious. “Look at me, George. I know you can figure this out - just...look at me.”
George slowly spun back to face Mitchell, still reluctant to meet his eyes. “I don’t…I don’t know what you mean!”
There was an almost belligerent tone to George’s voice now. Mitchell stared at the man, unblinking, waiting for George to say more, watching as the other man begin to squirm.
“What do you want?” George asked, finally getting to his feet. “I told you I wanted to be left alone, but oh no - you couldn’t do that! Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“Can’t do that, George,” spoke Mitchell, never moving from where he sat. “They’ll be looking for you now.”
“They who?” demanded George.
“The hospital staff. They’ll be wondering where their ‘insane’ patient is,” Mitchell explained, giving a snort at the word insane.
“What…what’s so funny?”
Finally Mitchell stood up, threw his fag on the ground, and took a step towards George. He was mildly surprised to see that George was only a few inches shorter than he.
“You are,” he answered. “Insane, my arse!”
“Oh, and you’d know what its like to be insane? Do you?”
“As a matter of fact I do. I’ve been there on the brink of insanity and you know what brought me back?” He was towering over George now, his voice deadly quiet.
“W-what?” squeaked George.
“Blood,” whispered Mitchell. “I’m a vampire.”
So much for keeping that to himself, but he had to make George understand. Make him see that things didn’t always turn out badly. Not that he knew why he’d taken to helping this man; maybe it was because George was so young. Well, compared to him he was young, so very young.
He saw the fear in George’s eyes as he stepped back, the emotion reaffirming why he never exposed himself to them. He had a sudden flash of how this could all turn out: George would go running back into the hospital claiming Mitchell was a vampire, maybe even babbling about an attack, and he’d be fired…again.
“Y-y-you’re a…a…” George kept pointing at him dramatically. “Is that why you followed me? You’re going to kill me?” Mitchell hoped George’s voice wasn’t carrying though the clear winter air as well as he thought it might be. He didn’t want others getting involved now.
“What! No, I’m here to help!” Mitchell protested, looking slightly shocked.
He had never and would never feed off a…friend. He felt his hand shake at the thought of feeding; it had been so long since he had last enjoyed the hot, metallic taste of blood.
“Help! How? You’re a vampire for Pete’s sake!”
“I just can, okay, I know what you are. I know what attacked you,” reasoned Mitchell, hoping he was right.
“You do, do you?” asked George frantically. “So tell me, Mr Vampire, what attacked me?”
Mitchell smirked. ‘Mr Vampire’; he liked that. “A Werewolf.”
Mitchell watched as George rapidly went from fear, to confusion, to downright disbelief.
“No, no, no, no, you’re kiddin’,” denied George, backing away. “You’re wrong.”
“It was a full moon when you were attacked, yes?”
“What does that have to do with this?”
Mitchell stepped forwards. “From what I know of Werewolves, the first month after you get infected all your senses are intensified. That’s how you found this place and me - you quite literally smelt me.”
“I…I…that is to say…it can’t be! You’re wrong! I don’t believe it! Your wrong!” babbled George.
Mitchell halted his motion; he could see the beginnings of fear in George’s eyes again. The fear mortals would get before he sank his teeth into them. It was an uncontrollable terror that could and would fuel the stupidest of decisions.
“Okay, okay I’m wrong,” shrugged Mitchell. “I’ll leave you alone now, but when you get back to your room think about what I’ve said. You’ll see the truth in it.”
With that, Mitchell turned to go back inside. He wouldn’t be able to help George at the moment, not when the man was so obviously frightened. Besides, he was late returning back from his break.
***
It was several days before he heard the news that George had done a runner. Mitchell watched from the shadows as staff made calls to family and friends trying to track down their ‘unstable’ patient, but Mitchell had a feeling that the young Werewolf would not be found. Not unless he wanted to be.
Mitchell scoffed as the police were dragged in, laughing as their eyes glazed over in boredom, none of them seeming to buy into the fact that this patient was particularly dangerous.
Standing outside in the cold evening air, Mitchell wondered where George was and if he was okay. Stop it, George is fine, he’s left, not your problem any more. It was what he kept telling himself, but the more he thought it, the more worried he got.
“Damn it, George!” cursed Mitchell.
Throwing his cigarette on the ground, Mitchell headed back inside; some small part of him felt compelled to go and find George, to help the other man. A few short hours later, he found himself handing his notice in at the hospital, and he started to track his lost Werewolf.
.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A chance meeting between Mitchell and George.
Spoilers: None really.
Disclaimer: Not mine never were.
Beta: madtheo
Author's Notes: Okay so this was written, just I think maybe after the second episode so it was before we found out everything we did in the last episode. So obviously this is going to be slightly AU from Canon.
It was the smell of blood that Mitchell was following down the corridor. A scent that drew him even as it confused him; there was a tang of something else in it, something he couldn’t quite place. He tilted his head to the side, as though trying to listen for something, as he walked the deserted corridor.
It’s not that the odour itself was unusual in a hospital, people came in with open wounds all the time, but being aware of the smell didn’t mean he always noticed it. But this, this was something he hadn’t smelt for a very long time; a titillating memory, just out of reach.
Mitchell came to a stop at a side room, looked at the drawn curtains and hesitated. Frowning, he looked over his shoulder; he had every right to be in the area but no excuse for this particular room. Yet he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk away once he stepped through the door. Through the door and over to the source of that smell.
The person on the other side of the room shifted and tantalizing whiffs of hot, fresh life slipped through the cloth barrier. He felt his hands start to shake as his senses suddenly heightened: the heartbeats from the patient behind the curtain echoing with deafening bangs in his head; the chilly draft coming from the vent overhead prickling over his skin and making it tingle; the scene in front of him becoming brighter, more crystalline. His chest rose and fell, despite his not needing any air, the rapid influx of sensations making him pant.
His trembling hands reached out, gripping the door handle, the power behind them enough to tear the door off its hinges. The need to see, to taste, to drink was becoming overwhelming. He was just pushing down the handle when someone touched his shoulder. Mitchell spun around, blinking quickly to hide what had been rising in him. He stared in confusion at the nurse for a moment before it registered that she was speaking to him.
“Sorry?” he asked smiling, charming her.
“I said ya can’t go in there,” replied the nurse. “It’s not safe.”
“Why?” What could possibly be worse than him in this hospital?
“Ya just can’t,” replied the nurse stubbornly. “Doctor’s orders”
“Who’s in there?” Mitchell asked, stopping the nurse with a hand on her arm as she went to continue her rounds.
“I can’t say. Best get back to work; don’t want ya landing in trouble.”
Mitchell knew a warning when he heard one; he smiled at the petite nurse again before letting go of her arm. He walked away from the room, forcing himself away from the delicious smell that had enticed him here in the first place
***
Mitchell went by the room a few more times during the next few days but there always seemed to be someone lurking about, be it a nurse, an orderly or a doctor. And there had been a rumour floating about the hospital of a person having been hurt so badly they’d gone insane. Mitchell had laughed at that last bit; insane indeed. They didn’t know the meaning of the word.
So here he was, stood outside smoking, trying to ignore the lure of that all too intoxicating smell. Taking the final drag, he turned to head back inside when movement caught his eye. Mitchell paused; people weren’t usually out by this corner of the hospital as the wind was a bit more cutting due to the angle of the building and the way it caught the wintery air. Curiosity getting the better of him, he set off to see who was in the alcove, ignoring his brief moment of anxiousness; he wouldn’t put it past Herrick to send one of his minions down to have an informal chat about things.
Walking around the corner he stopped short at the sight. There was a man sitting on the ground, back against the wall, shivering in the chilly air and looking as though he were trying to make himself invisible. As the man shifted, Mitchell caught smell of that blood again; it was coming from the small man.
“I…I know you’re there,” said the man, his voice high and trembling. “J-Just leave me alone.”
Mitchell took a step forward. He hadn’t yet spoken when the man lifted his head and looked Mitchell straight in the eye. The fear in his glare made Mitchell stop; it was such a young man in front of him, a young man that had been inflicted. For Mitchell now knew why this mans blood smelt so different and why the rumours had started. Mitchell felt something in his stomach tighten, why did this happen to someone so young?
He took another step forward. “Ya can’t stay out here. They’ll notice you’re gone.”
“I…I don’t care!” defiance was clear in the high pitched voice.
“I’m Mitchell, by the way,”
“What?” the voice wasn’t so panicky this time.
“My name: it’s Mitchell. Figured since you found my spot I best introduce myself,” he was rambling. God, since when did he ramble?
“I don’t care!” screeched the man. Mitchell could hear the shuddering intake of breath before the man spoke again. “I don’t…I don’t want to know what your name is! I want to be left alone!”
“So why come out here?” Mitchell asked.
“Huh?”
“You came out here looking for solitude yet you knew there was a chance you’d run into someone,” replied Mitchell, taking another step forward. “Lucky you ran into me, really.”
The vampire kept the tone of his voice calm, level, and it seemed to be having the soothing effect he was aiming for. He inched closer very slowly, trying to keep the forced intimacy unobtrusive. Stopping a few steps away from the unnerved man, Mitchell could see his entire body almost vibrating in fear. He could also just make out the white gauze underneath the hospital top; he had two guesses as to what was under that bandage.
“How did ya find this area?” Mitchell asked.
“I just sorta…I just did, all right? Can’t you leave me alone?”
“No. Besides it not safe out here,” said Mitchell quietly, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be reassuring the young man, not making things worse with words of doom and gloom.
Mitchell shook his head at his own insensitivity and sat on the cold pavement next to the stranger. He stretched his legs out a moment before tucking a leg close to him and pulling out another cigarette. Mitchell could feel the man tense next to him and was half expecting him to bolt, so he was surprised when all the man did was shuffle away slightly.
“George,” said the man.
“What about him?” Mitchell asked, resting his arm on his knee.
“T-that’s my name,” answered George cautiously.
“Well, George, it’s nice to meet ya. I’m Mitchell,” he replied, holding a hand out.
He saw George hesitate before the hand was grasped; he smiled then. It looked as though he’d made a new friend.
“You’ve…um…got very cold hands,” said George quickly.
Mitchell laughed. “Yeah, curse of what I am,”
“And what are you?”
The smile slipped from Mitchell’s face as he studied the younger man. If he told George what he was, he could guess what the skittish man’s reaction would be: he’d either call him a liar or have a full blown freak out. But given the suspicions Mitchell had of the stranger before him, what if there was a third option?
“You don’t want to know,” mumbled Mitchell, looking away. He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to take the chance on a bad response.
“No, I do, really,” George insisted, putting a hand on Mitchell’s shoulder.
Mitchell finally looked back to George, a small smile on his face. He tilted his head in apparent amusement. “You should know. It’s why you’re here, how you managed to know where I was; you sensed it.” He felt the hand drop away. “Come on, George, you know why you came out here, where no one except me goes…”
George’s eyes had widened. “You’re gay. That’s it, isn’t it?” That panicked squeal was making its return. “You’re gay and you’re hitting on me!” He shuffled back, putting a good foot between himself and the darker haired man. “Well, you can just shove off then, cos I don’t bend that way.” He turned away, giving his back to the vampire.
Mitchell let out a startled laugh. “What? No! That’s not what I mean at all! And if I was I certainly wouldn’t be chatting up a -“ He stopped, suddenly serious. “Look at me, George. I know you can figure this out - just...look at me.”
George slowly spun back to face Mitchell, still reluctant to meet his eyes. “I don’t…I don’t know what you mean!”
There was an almost belligerent tone to George’s voice now. Mitchell stared at the man, unblinking, waiting for George to say more, watching as the other man begin to squirm.
“What do you want?” George asked, finally getting to his feet. “I told you I wanted to be left alone, but oh no - you couldn’t do that! Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“Can’t do that, George,” spoke Mitchell, never moving from where he sat. “They’ll be looking for you now.”
“They who?” demanded George.
“The hospital staff. They’ll be wondering where their ‘insane’ patient is,” Mitchell explained, giving a snort at the word insane.
“What…what’s so funny?”
Finally Mitchell stood up, threw his fag on the ground, and took a step towards George. He was mildly surprised to see that George was only a few inches shorter than he.
“You are,” he answered. “Insane, my arse!”
“Oh, and you’d know what its like to be insane? Do you?”
“As a matter of fact I do. I’ve been there on the brink of insanity and you know what brought me back?” He was towering over George now, his voice deadly quiet.
“W-what?” squeaked George.
“Blood,” whispered Mitchell. “I’m a vampire.”
So much for keeping that to himself, but he had to make George understand. Make him see that things didn’t always turn out badly. Not that he knew why he’d taken to helping this man; maybe it was because George was so young. Well, compared to him he was young, so very young.
He saw the fear in George’s eyes as he stepped back, the emotion reaffirming why he never exposed himself to them. He had a sudden flash of how this could all turn out: George would go running back into the hospital claiming Mitchell was a vampire, maybe even babbling about an attack, and he’d be fired…again.
“Y-y-you’re a…a…” George kept pointing at him dramatically. “Is that why you followed me? You’re going to kill me?” Mitchell hoped George’s voice wasn’t carrying though the clear winter air as well as he thought it might be. He didn’t want others getting involved now.
“What! No, I’m here to help!” Mitchell protested, looking slightly shocked.
He had never and would never feed off a…friend. He felt his hand shake at the thought of feeding; it had been so long since he had last enjoyed the hot, metallic taste of blood.
“Help! How? You’re a vampire for Pete’s sake!”
“I just can, okay, I know what you are. I know what attacked you,” reasoned Mitchell, hoping he was right.
“You do, do you?” asked George frantically. “So tell me, Mr Vampire, what attacked me?”
Mitchell smirked. ‘Mr Vampire’; he liked that. “A Werewolf.”
Mitchell watched as George rapidly went from fear, to confusion, to downright disbelief.
“No, no, no, no, you’re kiddin’,” denied George, backing away. “You’re wrong.”
“It was a full moon when you were attacked, yes?”
“What does that have to do with this?”
Mitchell stepped forwards. “From what I know of Werewolves, the first month after you get infected all your senses are intensified. That’s how you found this place and me - you quite literally smelt me.”
“I…I…that is to say…it can’t be! You’re wrong! I don’t believe it! Your wrong!” babbled George.
Mitchell halted his motion; he could see the beginnings of fear in George’s eyes again. The fear mortals would get before he sank his teeth into them. It was an uncontrollable terror that could and would fuel the stupidest of decisions.
“Okay, okay I’m wrong,” shrugged Mitchell. “I’ll leave you alone now, but when you get back to your room think about what I’ve said. You’ll see the truth in it.”
With that, Mitchell turned to go back inside. He wouldn’t be able to help George at the moment, not when the man was so obviously frightened. Besides, he was late returning back from his break.
***
It was several days before he heard the news that George had done a runner. Mitchell watched from the shadows as staff made calls to family and friends trying to track down their ‘unstable’ patient, but Mitchell had a feeling that the young Werewolf would not be found. Not unless he wanted to be.
Mitchell scoffed as the police were dragged in, laughing as their eyes glazed over in boredom, none of them seeming to buy into the fact that this patient was particularly dangerous.
Standing outside in the cold evening air, Mitchell wondered where George was and if he was okay. Stop it, George is fine, he’s left, not your problem any more. It was what he kept telling himself, but the more he thought it, the more worried he got.
“Damn it, George!” cursed Mitchell.
Throwing his cigarette on the ground, Mitchell headed back inside; some small part of him felt compelled to go and find George, to help the other man. A few short hours later, he found himself handing his notice in at the hospital, and he started to track his lost Werewolf.
.