Chapter Text
Mitchell climbed the steps to the front door and rang the doorbell all the while running words in his head, trying to find the right way to explain. Only Louisa and Miles knew Rachel was still alive for now, but they needed to get her out of the area as soon as possible. He doubted he could be persuasive enough. Jaysus, but the girl was stubborn. Maybe Louisa would drop her holier-than-thou attitude and back him up.
It took an age for the door to open. Louisa stood back to let him in with hands planted on her hips.
"Personally, I'd let you rot on the doorstep, but Rachel needs you."
"You look rough." Mitchell threw back over his shoulder in retaliation.
As soon as he walked into the front room, he knew. The long coat draped over the chair and the heavy air in the room told him half the story. The immaculate grey suit pushed to the side of the room told him the rest.
Rachel was on the sofa, folded in on herself. He sat next to her and waited until he felt her move and curl into him, her head finding the curve of his shoulder. He enclosed her in his arms without a word and waited.
~~~~
"Here, drink this you two." Mitchell looked up to see Louisa put two mugs of tea down in front of them. "Solves everything you know."
"How long has it been?" he whispered, unconsciously stroking Rachel's shoulder as she stirred next to him and pulled in closer.
"She’s been like that for nearly an hour now. Talking a little, but mostly sitting, I'll leave you."
"No. I think you should stay. How are you?"
"Me?" Louisa responded with surprise at his interest. "Shaken, to be honest. We have a long and tortuous history, Christophe and I. After being in thrall to him for all these years, I never thought I'd be the one to end him. He was my maker."
"I didn't know that. It gets bloody complicated, doesn't it?"
"You can say that again! But he was going to recruit Rachel. Some things are unforgivable."
"Blood is thicker than water, huh."
Despite herself, Louisa smiled. "Of course. And she is my family. Always. Do you have family?"
"Nah. At least, no-one close any more. I never went back.”
“To Ireland? That would be after the war? Why not? It would have been easier.”
“Not really. Fighting in the Great War didn’t bring much respect at home afterwards, and anyway, I'd have been branded a deserter and that gave me the excuse to stay away. I said it was for my family’s honour, but deep down I reckon it was fear that kept me away.”
“Of what?”
“Fear of what I’d be capable of, even around those I loved. Maybe especially around them.”
Louisa went pale at that. "I think you were more clear-sighted than I was. They would have had a better life if I hadn't dragged them into this. So Herrick became your family."
Mitchell didn't answer, the betrayal still burned. "Like I said, it's bloody complicated."
He eased himself upright, and helped Rachel as she unfolded herself from the warmth of his side.
"Rachel, I’m sorry. I got it wrong. I thought Miles was in it for the money, that he'd sold himself for a handful of vampire silver and taken you down with him. I should’ve listened to you better in Sandrino's place. It was always about love, wasn't it?"
She nodded. "I hated you when you said that about him. But you weren’t really wrong. Whatever the motive, we still help bury the bones. What happens now?"
Mitchell had thought of little else since he'd arrived.
"Christophe was head of this operation and we can’t just let it all collapse. If it does things will run way out of control.”
“Let it.” Rachel was unimpressed.
“Not like this. It’s too dangerous for all of us. Herrick is expecting Christophe tonight and when he doesn't turn up things will get messy. And you've been noticed, we have to keep you safe.”
“Listen to him, Rachel. Please.” Louisa could see a battle looming.
“So. Louisa, you come with me to meet with Herrick, Rachel you stay put, just for now. Lock yourself in your wardrobe if you get tempted to open the door again."
A spark of fight returned to Rachel's eyes at that remark. "No sodding way am I staying here while you two are off making things worse.”
Mitchell decided there was nothing but the truth left.
"Herrick didn’t tell me about the trafficking upfront because he was using me, but there’s someone else coming in. I know something he doesn’t, and that’s our leverage. But to make it work you have to stay out of the picture because… look, Rachel, he thinks I killed you. That was his grand plan from the start. So if you show up at his house, obviously we are not going to get away with this. We won't be long, but it has to be done."
~~~~
Herrick could barely conceal his surprise and delight when he opened the grand door to his even grander - and very secret - townhouse to see Mitchell and an unexpected woman on his doorstep. Mitchell could tell exactly what was going through his old comrade's head.
"Let the good times roll, Herrick." Mitchell said.
"So you couldn't stay away after all, my boy? I thought the taste for the good life would prove irresistible after last night. I am delighted. Come on in."
Herrick beamed, evidently pleased with his ultimate victory over his protegé's earlier idiotic attitude. He'd won. He’d known Mitchell could never function without him, and Herrick felt the pleasant surge of control as he fussed around Louisa.
"Actually we won't be staying. We've come to talk business - and by the way, Louisa is definitely not on the menu." A chill had crept into Mitchell's smile.
"Business? No, not tonight, my friends. That can keep until tomorrow."
Louisa fixed Herrick with a disconcerting look. "Christophe isn't coming. He took a wrong turning and now he's dead. Vampire politics is so very messy, don’t you think? And so unfortunate for you as it happened when all eyes are on Bristol and whether you can handle a job on this scale. But luckily we have a proposal for you."
Herrick's cheerfulness switched off in an instant and his blue eyes turned razor-sharp.
"This had better be good," he said through clenched jaw.
Mitchell perched himself on the edge of a grand table and folded his arms. "It'll all be
"It'll all be fine, if you take Christophe's place chaperoning the special delivery to London and on to Prague. You know about that, don't you?"
"Actually no. Christophe was cautious, and on a need-to-know basis, I didn’t need, so I expected nothing more."
"Well, thanks to you I got to check all the boring paperwork, remember. How many 10 year-old Old Ones do you know in need of an escort to get through all that airport security without too many questions asked."
"Hetty! You're sure?"
"Oh yes. And we’re lucky it is. She'll be pleased to see you, her dearest old recruit. She might even be pleased enough to overlook the whole Christophe cock-up happening on your watch. It also gets you safely out of the country for a little while. In fact I think you'll enjoy it."
"And what happens here in this plan of yours?"
"Nothing much. Everything else is in place. The container comes straight off the boat and onto the truck, that's all sorted already. Christophe's driver heads off to London with the cargo, no sweat. I just have to make sure Seth and crew don't screw it up by drawing attention to themselves when things are so … delicate … for us. We all keep our heads down and eventually everyone congratulates you on a good job, and how it was such a pity Christophe nearly fucked it up for you."
Herrick stared at Mitchell for a long moment. Mitchell resisted the urge to fidget.
"So. Louisa. You are part of the vampire politics that got so messy for Christophe?" Herrick asked.
"Yes. But none of us want Hetty to be inconvenienced by our petty differences, now do we. What a wasted opportunity that would be." She replied.
Mitchell smiled to himself. She'd got him. Herrick was hooked in.
"I don't think I could have come up with a better solution myself." Herrick snapped the charm back into place. "Hetty. Well, well, it's been a very long time indeed. I think this will be quite delightful. We should have a drink to celebrate." He moved to open the door to a small room beyond. "And to toast absent friends."
In the subtle lights of a small library Mitchell could see a young woman, hands tied and mouth gagged. Her simple white blouse was crumpled and ripped and her terror was palpable even from where he stood. A tremor ran through him in response to the sight, but he forced his eyes away.
"Thanks Herrick, but I told you earlier. I'm done. Nothing’s changed. I'll see you round - but don't let us spoil the party."
A shadow passed across Herrick's face, this kind of insubordination would not pass him by and Mitchell was in no doubt that he was still unfinished business. But it seemed that the lure dangled in front of his old comrade was too strong to resist. So the shadow was folded away and he pulled out his brightest grin.
"Oh I'm so sorry, Amy my dear." Herrick bowed towards the girl. "I'm afraid it's just the two of us tonight. Christophe can't make it after all. I'll show these two out. But don't worry your pretty little head, I'll be back in a tick."
~~~~
The sun was shining with the crisp brightness of the end of autumn. Rachel and Mitchell sat across from each other, the radio whispering in the background. Just a lazy Sunday late morning breakfast.
"My God, but how can you eat your own body weight in cereal? Where do you put it all?"
Mitchell arched an eyebrow before reaching out to stroke along the side of her hand. A small frown flickered between the dark brows.
"How's your wrist feeling?"
Rachel sighed and put her other hand over his.
"It's fine, really it is. It's healing amazingly easily. You have to stop asking me that, you're driving me crazy."
He leant back in his chair and raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, I promise I'll shut up. Vampire bites never get infected you know. Weird that. Maybe one day I'll hand myself over to a doctor, or a scientist or something. They could study me - imagine the good they could do."
Rachel glanced up over the rim of her cup and tilted her head to one side.
"Not until I've finished studying you!"
"I'm liking the sound of that, sweetheart." Mitchell laughed for a second, but before she had the chance to say more he deflected her flirtation. "You do know I don't want you to leave, don't you, but you must."
Rachel stood, walked behind where he sat, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
"You could come with us."
"To Italy? Lovely place. But no, I can't. I have to make sure nothing rocks the boat here ‘til Herrick gets back."
"Why you? Seriously, why not walk away from all this? You could. You don’t owe them."
"I can’t come with you, I've tasted you Rachel. Your blood pulls in my veins, and it will grow stronger, it will be exciting and dangerous. I’m telling you that I will kill you. Louisa knows that, that's why she's so desperate to get you away. And she's right. You know it too. You've seen the real me."
"That's not the real you." Rachel protested.
"Oh it is, sweetheart. Just as much as this is the real me. C'mon, you know I'm right Rachel."
"What will you do?"
"I need to be on my own. After all this time I have to find my own way without being Herrick's creature."
"On your own? Mitchell, oh I don't know, you might be right but ... Look, it seems to me that to be most yourself you need someone or something to care about, why don’t you-?"
"Shhh. Listen. Turn the sound up." Mitchell interrupted, gesturing towards the radio.
'Back to the traffic news. Major tailbacks on the M4 today as a lorry jack-knifed across two lanes outside Swindon earlier this morning. Police are in attendance and latest reports from the scene suggest the lorry contained an undisclosed number of illegal immigrants. No-one is reported to have been injured, and no other vehicle was involved in the incident. It is understood that the driver of the vehicle has not been located despite an extensive search. More news as soon as it is available. Motorists are advised to avoid...'
Rachel switched the radio off and stared at Mitchell. "You?"
"Miles. And he found a bloody good driver to jack-knife a vehicle of that size without injuring anyone. It’s not great for the people in the back, I know, but we thought it was better than any of the alternatives, and Miles has been pulling every string he’s got to get accommodation and legal support and things in place. They won’t be abandoned.”
"And where is the driver?"
"The replacement? I think your father may have picked up a hitch-hiker somewhere near Swindon this morning, don't you?"
Rachel's shoulders slumped as if a whole weight had lifted. "But as far as all the vampires are concerned Christophe chose the driver, so it's all his fault then."
She stepped round and swung her leg over him until she sat on his lap and before he could object he was enveloped in a hug and his own hands involuntarily slipped round her waist. He told himself he wasn’t really clinging on. He should stop her, of course, but he couldn't. Christ, she felt so good. He felt good. How long had it been? Thirty years? It felt so real it almost hurt.
“I’ve got you a goodbye present.” Rachel gave another squeeze before she was gone and digging through the shopping bag. He refused to feel bereft as the warmth seeped away from his body again.
“The charity shop, you know, the one next to the bakery, the one that seems like your kind of place for clothes shopping. And before you get snippy, Mitchell, it’s my kind of place too. Anyway, these were in the window. And I thought because you’re always so bloody cold, and you are a tight bastard and won’t give up the roll-ups, these would be perfect.”
She pressed something warm and slightly scratchy into his hands. He recognised it before it unfolded between his fingers. Dark green, home knitted, fingerless, warm. He dropped his head to hide the sudden tears. The last thing he wanted to do was explain why a pair of cheap gloves could break him, and Rachel would make him talk, he knew that.
“It made me laugh when I thought of you wearing them. But then I thought, perhaps you could look at them sometimes and remember one person you could have killed but didn’t.”
Her voice shook slightly, but he couldn’t raise his head, not yet.
“Thank you. I’ll do that.”
And Mitchell felt the warmth of her arms reach around him again.
Epilogue
He had walked the streets for hours in the days that followed Rachel and Louisa's departure. He didn't want to return to his flat again. He'd cleaned and tidied away the wreckage as much as he could, but he felt adrift there. Empty. Lonely. Just waiting for the hunger to claim him again and enslave him as it always did.
It was dark now and so cold he could see his breath in the air. He leant against a dank wall and sent the text he'd been avoiding sending all day. With Herrick gone he was left circling the vampire community, making sure their heads were down, because without Herrick working his magic at the police station the last thing he wanted to deal with was more mess.
Keep the kills simple and untraceable, that was all he asked.
Keep moving, just keep moving, he told himself.
Herrick was forever telling each new recruit that he or she was a shark. No doubt he meant a Great White, effortlessly ruling the seas in majestic silence, choosing its prey and striking with terrifying power. Mitchell wasn't impressed any more. To him it conjured up a vision of a creature trapped in endless motion, owned by its need to feed. And if it stopped moving - it died.
At least he'd get a coffee and food in the café where the others were waiting for him; he was fuckin' freezing.
He blew into his hands, feeling the wool of the gloves warm up slightly.
Sometimes he looked at them and remembered the ‘comforts’, the only slice of actual comfort making its way into the trenches along with the chocolate, memories of home, and knitted green gloves and socks and balaclavas, as well as the tobacco he started smoking - rolled up in the middle of all that the carnage in an attempt mask the smell, and maybe warm up a little inside -
But sometimes he saw the person he could have killed but didn’t.
As he got closer to the café and the lure of the coffee he heard sickening noises coming from the back alley.
Ah Jesus. He recognised Seth's voice, loud and vicious. “Get in there boys”.
Shit. What was the eejit doing now?
"Woah, Woah!" He shouted as he walked towards them.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, but looking around it was obvious. Some poor sod was huddled on the floor half hidden by the bins. Blood was spattered across the wall and floor. Marco and Sorensen stepped back, their bodies jittery from the interrupted violence and desperate for the kill.
"He's a lyco, man. We saw him in the caff." Marco said.
Mitchell shot a pitying look at the man left bleeding and cowering on the ground.
And then what?
They were just two souls.
United by fear and solitude.
Lost in the dark.
Fate pushed them together, and now they were going to find out why.
THE BEGINNING.