Annie Sawyer (thenidied) wrote in expresslogs, @ 2012-05-24 20:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | !plot, {annie sawyer, {daisy hannigan-spiteri, {john mitchell, {john watson, {nick cutler, {sherlock holmes |
Who Mitchell, Annie, Cutler and Daisy
Where The chance car come morgue
When Thursday afternoon
What The waking of the vampires
Rating/Warnings Lowish
Notes Part preplayed. Mitchell's in italics, Annie in normal, Cutler in bold.
Coldness surrounded him. Mitchell’s head hurt. Everything hurt. He blinked slowly. Clean, sterile light invaded his eyes and he shut them again. A groan escaped his lips. What had happened? What was going on? He tried to remember but everything was just blank. He couldn’t remember where he’d last been. “Fuck,” he groaned. His fingers wandered over the cold and smooth surface. He blinked again. Brightness.
Annie hadn't left the chance car since she'd brought the vampires in there. She'd been working entirely on autopilot at the time - getting them somewhere safe because this wasn't permanent, it couldn't be permanent. That hope didn't make things any easier though. She couldn't let Mitchell out of her sight, She wanted to be there the moment he came back.
She was curled up on the counter, her arms around herself and her eyes fixed on him. He wasn't the only one in there of course, but Cutler and the girl - Daisy, well they were less important. She was by Mitchell's side the second he moved, before he made a sound she was there, eyes scanning his face and body as she grasped his hand squeezing it tightly.
"It's okay, Mitchell," she said quickly, tears running down her face. "You're okay."
Cold touched his hand. Annie's voice. Annie! His vision started to adjust to the light and her face came into view. He blinked again. Tears? "Jesus, Annie," he said - grunted as his voiced cracked over the effort. "What's going on?" He tried to push himself up onto his elbows but he lacked the strength. So instead his eyes darted around. A morgue? He spotted two other bodies. Female. Male. That was all he could make out before he focussed his attention back to Annie and her tears.
She winced at the roughness of his voice. She should have been prepared, ready for when he woke up, he was so much more human than she was, sometimes she forgot, although she hadn't been thinking straight for days now. "You died, again," she said, wiping at the tears with her free hand, "You've got to stop doing that, you know."
Died? The last time he checked death was supposed to feel less painful. "What?" was all he managed to ask. Confusion got the better of him. Nina! Yes, he remembered talking to Nina and then... then he was here. Another attempt to push himself upwards. Another failure. He sank back onto the hard coolness. His body felt weak and hurt. What was this nightmare?
"You died," she said again, not sure how much more clearly she could put it. She looked around finally, at the others then back to him. "You all did. And you probably stop trying to get up, you're weak. It's only been a few days but..." she trailed off. "It'll be okay, just don't exert yourself."
You all did rang alarm bells. Everyone on the train had died? "George! Is he..." Another attempt and this time he managed to fight himself into a half-upright position. His body propped up on his elbows. Eyes darted around to see who else was there... Cutler. Daisy. Jesus Christ. What was she doing here? "I'm dead?" He didn't feel dead. He felt very much in pain. Vampires couldn't become ghosts. Could they?
"He's fine." Nina would have mentioned it otherwise, and something happening to George or Nina would have been the only thing that could have got her out of here. When he sat up she moved to put her arm around him, trying to support him. "I don't think it stuck," she said with a little smile. "The train, it's been taking people's powers. I can't rentaghost."
How death could not stuck was beyond him. He had always deemed it pretty final. But he had too many questions in mind to actually focus on one and so he listened. "Really? Shit!" he said. It would explain his 'death'. For the first time he consciously took in her tear-strained face. "It's fine. Okay? I'm not going anywhere." Mitchell slowly moved into a sitting position, thankful for Annie's support and silently cursing the headache that wanted to torture him slowly.
A lose of power seemed like nothing really, being unable to do magic or teleport was nothing in comparison to what had happened to Mitchell and the others. "I know," she said softly. "I knew you'd come back. The train's an utter bastard but...I knew you'd come back." He had to, there just wasn't an option, not after everything.
Cutler was aware. Of what, exactly, well that was still filtering through. His head felt as if it had been packed full of cotton wool. He opened his eyes just to close them again immediately. It was bright out there. Wherever there was. Even though he'd only opened them for a second, he could still see lines behind his eyes. This was not good. It was cold, too. Chilled. He even felt chilled. No, this definitely wasn't right. He was lying on a hard surface and he hurt. Lots of little pains. Lots and lots of them. He finally picked up on the voices, but he just lay there trying to take their words in. Dead. Well, it certainly felt like it. Nice one Thomas, you prick.
He tried sitting up. It took him a couple of attempts as well - between the swirling head, his vision fighting to adjust and everything hurting, it wasn't the easiest thing in the world to accomplish. But he managed it. "Well," Cutler sounded quite raspy. He cleared his throat before continuing. "I don't know about anyone else, but I'm hungry and I guess that's a problem. How long have we been out?" Or proper dead, as it were. He didn't really want to think about that.
Mitchell nodded. As long as Annie was around, he needed to come back. For her sake and his. He was just about to answer when a voice from the side caught his attention. His head snapped into its direction. Cutler. Awake. How perfect. “That is indeed a problem,” Mitchell said, his voice cold as ice. “You know, now would be the perfect moment to stop drinking.”
Annie turned to watch Cutler the moment he spoke, two down, one to go. She frowned a little when Cutler said he was hungry. As far as she knew the infirmary still had blood, but she was somewhat out of the loop since she'd shut herself in here. "Eight, nine days?" she said, sounding a little unsure. "As for the other thing, well I can probably talk to the doctors, if I need to." She couldn't let him starve to death after all, not after all this.
Cutler's laugh turned into a small fit of coughs. "Unless you were drinking embalming fluid, I think after eight or nine days - even in the fridge - your squishy bits should be feeling a bit more squishy." He poked at his abdomen. "Not to mention the fact that everything aches. How do you think the other passengers are going to feel about that slight smell of rot? What's a little blood for everyone's immediate comfort? And," no, he hadn't finished. "Who knows what else Thomas is going to throw at us. I'd rather not be lying around like Andrew Beckett waiting to find out." Annie's mentioning of the doctors reminded him of a discussion he'd had soon after his arrival. "I spoke to.." he trailed off. "Mary? Meredith! I told her if we were injured we'd need blood. I think having been proper dead counts."