Yes I do. [ Because she has this unshakable confidence in him, one that would take a massacre to destroy. Even then, she would love him through anything, anything at all. Even this.
He's holding onto her so tightly and she inches closer to him, reaching out to brush the hair from his face, to try and comfort him, to try to somehow fix this.] I know, [ is all she can say to it, to the way he sounds, although she will not let himself bury himself in grief and guilt. She cannot lose him, not when she just got him back, not when they finally found each other. ]
Please, Mitchell-- [ she begs him again, trying to pull herself closer to him, knowing full well he'd probably refuse her.] Please don't let this break us. Please. [ Begging is all she can do now, pleading with him not to destroy himself over this, to actually ruin what is between them by never, ever forgiving himself.] You lost control. I pushed you. But you didn't hurt me. You can't hurt me.
[Only a fool would argue in the face of such conviction, would argue against himself the way Mitchell is doing right now; well then, Mitchell is a fool. That is hardly a surprise to anyone who knows him. He is a fool, and he is too self-sacrificing, that is also hardly a surprise, and selfish, to boot. An odd combination, to be sure, but when he would have been quick to throw himself on the spike of rejection, he cannot seem to drag Annie along with him, for when she pleads with him, he lets her tug him closer, and even, eventually, turns towards her.
His fangs gone, his eyes clear, he presses his head to her chest and weeps wretchedly, his fingers curling in her soft sweaters and clinging desperately.]
I hate it. This, this thing inside me. [He's never spoken this aloud to anyone, hardly even let himself think it. He'd never been able to, really, for the consequences had always been too dire.] It gnaws at me endlessly, and I'm weak, so weak in the face of it.
[ Her arms come around him as he gives into her embrace, her lips pressing to the top of his head, hands sliding over his arms and back, soothingly. Her heart breaks, crumbles when he cries, her own tears slipping down her cheeks. But she doesn't dare shush, she lets him speak, she runs her hand over his face and hair.]
Mitchell-- [ It's agony, all of it. He will not forgive himself easily, if at all. And it will drive an wedge between them, a wedge that will soon enough become a chasm, should he descend into despair too much.] You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. We all... [ She strokes his cheek, thumb brushing over it slowly.] We all slip up, we all have our weakness. You are not broken any more than me or George or Nina. [ She tilts her head downward as she whispers words she means more than anything.] I love you. I adore you. I trust you. You will overcome this because you have me. We can do this together.
[He sniffles a little against her shirt, clutching her closer, so glad for a selfish moment that she's as solid as she is so that he can cling to her the way he does. He seems totally uncaring of the fact that he's still completely nude and she's fully dressed, or that his legs are still tangled in the sheets he tore off the bed with his sideways dive.
Really, it's a miracle George hasn't burst in to see what all the fuss is about.]
I'm sorry for biting you. [The shame of it churns in his belly, making him feel sick when he thinks about it. The worst part is, he enjoyed it. That split-second before his teeth sank into her ghostly skin was exquisite, with the anticipation of satisfaction just dangling out of reach. He disgusts himself.] I thought I could be strong enough to... I'm sorry.
I know, [ she murmurs against his hair because she does, she knows that he's sorry. And that he'll be sorry forever. She won't say it's alright because she knows as well as he does that it isn't, that he'll never think so, that he may never forgive himself.
Her hands lift to try to tilt his head up towards her own, so that she can look at him, so that he can look at her, so that she can press a soft, forgiving kiss to his lips. The daze of shock has worn off quickly and now she is in fix-it mode.] It's not that you're not strong, Mitchell. I took it too far, too fast. [ She'd been too eager. She should have known...]
Did I hurt you? [He finally lifts his head to look up at her with watery eyes, desperate to hear that he didn't hurt her as badly as he thought, that it was okay, that she was fine. If she could feel all the other things he did to her, though, then of course she could feel him bite down on her neck, and the fact that she ported straight out of his arms and into her clothes again is a pretty clear indication that all is not as well as he would like.
He makes a wounded noise into her kiss, his hands clenching in the fabric of her sweater.] I just want to give you what you need. [And if that's the semblance of a normal relationship, then so be it.]
No, no you didn't. [ She is quick to reassure him, offering him a sad smile. It was the truth. It had shocked her more than it hurt, a quick sting before she blipped away from him. The clothes thing hadn't been voluntary, it was a reflex, it seems, to the trauma. Any confidence she'd had in that moment had gone, reverting her power level back to what it once was.]
Mitchell, [ she says his name brokenly, her heart shattering at his words, at the meaning behind them. Tears well up in her eyes once more as she shakes her head, her hands moving over his face, his hair, down his shoulders, unable to stop their fussing as she shakes her head again.] You already do. [ She sounds heartbrokenly breathless, bewildered that he didn't know already.] I didn't need that. [ Okay, so maybe a good shag would have done some wonders for her but she didn't need it.] All I need is you.
[He's so relieved he didn't actually hurt her — or at least, she doesn't think it hurt much now, in the aftermath — that he feels weak with it, like his bones have turned to jelly, and he lets out a huge heaving sigh as he presses his forehead to hers.]
I'll try to be better. [She can tell him all she wants is him from now until Judgement day and he'll still think he's falling short of the mark, but he appreciates the sentiment.] You make me want to be better, Annie. [Maybe with practice and meditation or something he'll be able to give her what she needs without hurting her. Maybe this isn't completely broken.
He lifts his head and tries to give her a smile, though it wobbles a little alarmingly. Still, he pushes on.] I think tea is in order, don't you?
All I ask is that you be yourself... and that you are honest with me, whenever anything gets to be too much. I'll always be here to help you. Forever, Mitchell. [ Her fingers slide soothingly over his chest, trying not to let her thoughts stray to things she now deemed forbidden. At least for a while. He is beautiful even in this moment, even with sad eyes and a hurt expression. She can't imagine beholding anyone more devastatingly made. She loves him, the ache of it makes her heart feel as though it might burst from her chest. It makes anything seem possible even if it isn't. The last thing she wanted to do is send him on a downward spiral, all because she wanted to get some. Snogging would be where she drew the line from now on and at least.... well, at least they gave it a go.
After putting a quick positive spin on the events, she catches his smile, noticing the way it wavers, pressing a kiss to his lips as she thinks that perhaps he wants some time to himself. She doesn't want to leave him alone, she doesn't want to give him the chance to wallow. But--] Would you fancy some then? [ Oh, she'd love one herself if only she could have it, the soothing slide of hot liquid down her throat. She imagines he needs that now too. It is a dark thought but one she has nonetheless. And if he needs a moment, she can give it to him, however reluctantly.
[He catches her hand as she strokes it over his chest, curling his fingers around hers and leaning into her, letting out a shaky sigh as he forces himself to listen to the words she's saying and not brush them aside to focus instead on his failures.
If Annie believes in him, maybe he's worth believing in.]
God, I love you. [He returns her kiss gratefully, squeezing her hand a little as he pulls away, nodding already. It's not that he wants to send her away, far from it, but he needs a little time to compose himself, and at the very least, to get dressed.] Yeah, if you wouldn't mind. I'll be down in a minute.
[ She will be the strength he needs, as she is with everyone she cares for. She will be his guardian angel, watch after him, take care of him. And if right now, he needs a moment, she'll go and make him some tea, loathe as she is to leave him alone, to be alone. ]
Alright. [ She nods a little too, pressing a kiss to his forehead before she moves to stand.] I'll be downstairs whenever you're ready. [ And with a tentative smile, she rent-a-ghosts downstairs, blipping out of the room and into the kitchen to start on the tea.]
[As soon as Annie is out of the room, Mitchell allows himself to tumble over sideways, to fall flat on the floor and hide his face in the sheets that are rumpled around him. It's very tempting to wallow in his despair, to recriminate himself even more, but Annie is waiting for him downstairs, and so after a moment or so, he forces himself to get up again and to get dressed.
Mitchell is a man who will do many things, but he won't make Annie wait for him.
He's fully-dressed, down to shoes and socks, his ubiquitous gloves back on his hands by the time he slinks into the kitchen, looking somewhat like a chastened dog and trying to hide it nonetheless.] Was that the kettle, then?
[ Annie finds it difficult not to go back to him, not to fuss over him, to let him be. It's not in her nature. And the longer he stays up there, the longer she waits, the more she frets. She puts on the kettle and gets out four different cups with four different sorts of tea, unsure of what will suit his mood even if he's the sort to drink the same kind of tea for everything (and by now she knows exactly how he likes his tea)... she needs to do this, do something.
As the kettle heats, she braces herself against the counter, head hanging as she blinks away tears. By the time he comes down, the kettle is singing and she's managed to battle off those tears successfully. She turns to look at him with a smile.] Yes. I didn't know which tea you'd like so... I prepared them all. [ She reaches for the kettle but her hand goes right through it.
Letting out a breath, she tries again, but it's the third time that's the charm. She gives him a sheepish look before pouring out the hot water so the teas can steep.] Apparently, I'm a wee bit distracted.
[Mitchell is the type to drink the same tea, day in and day out. Just regular PG Tips with a splash of milk and maybe half a teaspoon of sugar if he's having a really bad day. He likes the familiarity of it all; it hasn't changed since he was a boy, growing up a hundred years ago. Everything else in the world changes, but not tea.
Of course, he's willing to drink whatever Annie puts in front of him, weird herbal mixtures and the like, because it's Annie who makes it for him.]
Why don't we just start with the one, hm? [He comes up behind her and settles his hands on her hips, tentative for a moment before he slides his arms fully around her and tucks his chin over her shoulder, hugging her gently and pressing his lips to her sweater.]
[ In one of the cups, of course, is the tea he prefers, ready to steep as she pours out each mug. Her eyes stay fixed on her task for a moment before she feels his arms wrap around her, pulling her into his embrace. It's something she doesn't expect nor did she think he would ever give to her again (it's an overly dramatic thought but... it's Annie).
She lets out a soft, contented sigh at the feeling, her eyes closing for a moment as she sets the kettle back on the stove.] So am I. [ For pushing him, for making him feel like he had to do something that he couldn't, just to make her happy, to make her feel normal when that was the last thing they'd ever be.]
[It is overly dramatic, and the only reason it might have possibly come true was because Mitchell was convinced he wasn't allowed, not because he wouldn't want to.
He gets a little more comfortable against her, nuzzling a little at her shoulder and tucking his face in there once he's managed to dislodge the edge of her soft sweater, her hair tickling his face as he closes his eyes and just stands there hugging her.]
What a pair we make. It's a wonder George and Nina put up with us at all. [In fact, he's a little surprised he hasn't managed to incur Nina's wrath lately. She must be at the hospital or something.]
I suppose we're lucky they're not about. [ She isn't really sure where they are, more than likely out, away from the house for some time alone, which in turn, gave the two of them time alone. Her eyes close for a moment before she reaches for the milk to add a splash to the mug of tea she knows he'll pick.]
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He's holding onto her so tightly and she inches closer to him, reaching out to brush the hair from his face, to try and comfort him, to try to somehow fix this.] I know, [ is all she can say to it, to the way he sounds, although she will not let himself bury himself in grief and guilt. She cannot lose him, not when she just got him back, not when they finally found each other. ]
Please, Mitchell-- [ she begs him again, trying to pull herself closer to him, knowing full well he'd probably refuse her.] Please don't let this break us. Please. [ Begging is all she can do now, pleading with him not to destroy himself over this, to actually ruin what is between them by never, ever forgiving himself.] You lost control. I pushed you. But you didn't hurt me. You can't hurt me.
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[Only a fool would argue in the face of such conviction, would argue against himself the way Mitchell is doing right now; well then, Mitchell is a fool. That is hardly a surprise to anyone who knows him. He is a fool, and he is too self-sacrificing, that is also hardly a surprise, and selfish, to boot. An odd combination, to be sure, but when he would have been quick to throw himself on the spike of rejection, he cannot seem to drag Annie along with him, for when she pleads with him, he lets her tug him closer, and even, eventually, turns towards her.
His fangs gone, his eyes clear, he presses his head to her chest and weeps wretchedly, his fingers curling in her soft sweaters and clinging desperately.]
I hate it. This, this thing inside me. [He's never spoken this aloud to anyone, hardly even let himself think it. He'd never been able to, really, for the consequences had always been too dire.] It gnaws at me endlessly, and I'm weak, so weak in the face of it.
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Mitchell-- [ It's agony, all of it. He will not forgive himself easily, if at all. And it will drive an wedge between them, a wedge that will soon enough become a chasm, should he descend into despair too much.] You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. We all... [ She strokes his cheek, thumb brushing over it slowly.] We all slip up, we all have our weakness. You are not broken any more than me or George or Nina. [ She tilts her head downward as she whispers words she means more than anything.] I love you. I adore you. I trust you. You will overcome this because you have me. We can do this together.
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[He sniffles a little against her shirt, clutching her closer, so glad for a selfish moment that she's as solid as she is so that he can cling to her the way he does. He seems totally uncaring of the fact that he's still completely nude and she's fully dressed, or that his legs are still tangled in the sheets he tore off the bed with his sideways dive.
Really, it's a miracle George hasn't burst in to see what all the fuss is about.]
I'm sorry for biting you. [The shame of it churns in his belly, making him feel sick when he thinks about it. The worst part is, he enjoyed it. That split-second before his teeth sank into her ghostly skin was exquisite, with the anticipation of satisfaction just dangling out of reach. He disgusts himself.] I thought I could be strong enough to... I'm sorry.
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Her hands lift to try to tilt his head up towards her own, so that she can look at him, so that he can look at her, so that she can press a soft, forgiving kiss to his lips. The daze of shock has worn off quickly and now she is in fix-it mode.] It's not that you're not strong, Mitchell. I took it too far, too fast. [ She'd been too eager. She should have known...]
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He makes a wounded noise into her kiss, his hands clenching in the fabric of her sweater.] I just want to give you what you need. [And if that's the semblance of a normal relationship, then so be it.]
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Mitchell, [ she says his name brokenly, her heart shattering at his words, at the meaning behind them. Tears well up in her eyes once more as she shakes her head, her hands moving over his face, his hair, down his shoulders, unable to stop their fussing as she shakes her head again.] You already do. [ She sounds heartbrokenly breathless, bewildered that he didn't know already.] I didn't need that. [ Okay, so maybe a good shag would have done some wonders for her but she didn't need it.] All I need is you.
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I'll try to be better. [She can tell him all she wants is him from now until Judgement day and he'll still think he's falling short of the mark, but he appreciates the sentiment.] You make me want to be better, Annie. [Maybe with practice and meditation or something he'll be able to give her what she needs without hurting her. Maybe this isn't completely broken.
He lifts his head and tries to give her a smile, though it wobbles a little alarmingly. Still, he pushes on.] I think tea is in order, don't you?
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After putting a quick positive spin on the events, she catches his smile, noticing the way it wavers, pressing a kiss to his lips as she thinks that perhaps he wants some time to himself. She doesn't want to leave him alone, she doesn't want to give him the chance to wallow. But--] Would you fancy some then? [ Oh, she'd love one herself if only she could have it, the soothing slide of hot liquid down her throat. She imagines he needs that now too. It is a dark thought but one she has nonetheless. And if he needs a moment, she can give it to him, however reluctantly.
Sometimes Annie can catch a hint.]
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If Annie believes in him, maybe he's worth believing in.]
God, I love you. [He returns her kiss gratefully, squeezing her hand a little as he pulls away, nodding already. It's not that he wants to send her away, far from it, but he needs a little time to compose himself, and at the very least, to get dressed.] Yeah, if you wouldn't mind. I'll be down in a minute.
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Alright. [ She nods a little too, pressing a kiss to his forehead before she moves to stand.] I'll be downstairs whenever you're ready. [ And with a tentative smile, she rent-a-ghosts downstairs, blipping out of the room and into the kitchen to start on the tea.]
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Mitchell is a man who will do many things, but he won't make Annie wait for him.
He's fully-dressed, down to shoes and socks, his ubiquitous gloves back on his hands by the time he slinks into the kitchen, looking somewhat like a chastened dog and trying to hide it nonetheless.] Was that the kettle, then?
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As the kettle heats, she braces herself against the counter, head hanging as she blinks away tears. By the time he comes down, the kettle is singing and she's managed to battle off those tears successfully. She turns to look at him with a smile.] Yes. I didn't know which tea you'd like so... I prepared them all. [ She reaches for the kettle but her hand goes right through it.
Letting out a breath, she tries again, but it's the third time that's the charm. She gives him a sheepish look before pouring out the hot water so the teas can steep.] Apparently, I'm a wee bit distracted.
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Of course, he's willing to drink whatever Annie puts in front of him, weird herbal mixtures and the like, because it's Annie who makes it for him.]
Why don't we just start with the one, hm? [He comes up behind her and settles his hands on her hips, tentative for a moment before he slides his arms fully around her and tucks his chin over her shoulder, hugging her gently and pressing his lips to her sweater.]
I'm sorry.
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She lets out a soft, contented sigh at the feeling, her eyes closing for a moment as she sets the kettle back on the stove.] So am I. [ For pushing him, for making him feel like he had to do something that he couldn't, just to make her happy, to make her feel normal when that was the last thing they'd ever be.]
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He gets a little more comfortable against her, nuzzling a little at her shoulder and tucking his face in there once he's managed to dislodge the edge of her soft sweater, her hair tickling his face as he closes his eyes and just stands there hugging her.]
What a pair we make. It's a wonder George and Nina put up with us at all. [In fact, he's a little surprised he hasn't managed to incur Nina's wrath lately. She must be at the hospital or something.]
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Sugar?