Among the Deepening Shades: Chapter Nine

[jesterladyfic]

Chapter Nine

Nina looked through the hospital loo, making sure that she and Annie were alone.

“We’re all clear,” she said, then pulled the photo from her pocket. Annie held out her hands eagerly. "My mate in imaging, she owed me a favor so she brought me in. I've still got some of that jelly stuff on.” Annie let out an ecstatic squeal and Nina laughed. "You're holding it upside down."

"That's so sweet. It's still there," said Annie, correcting her mistake.

"Still there.” Nina rubbed her temple, it seemed like she had a constant headache these days. “I thought I'd lost it."

"But you didn't!” said Annie. “Nina, you didn't, it's all right. It's okay. It can survive a transformation, it- I hate calling it it - the baby. The baby can survive. Oh, we're gonna have to have a treat tonight. Big tea, major pudding, and just happy times.”

“Annie, that may not be the best idea. George and I aren’t exactly together anymore. Mitchell’s still…moping about Herrick.”

“It’s just what we need. Like a…team building exercise!”

“You can’t fix everything with tea.”

“I can try,” said Annie. “Nina, are you going to be okay, you and George? What he did was…awful. But, at least, with George, he’s truly contrite. He’s not going to make a habit of it like Owen.”

“I get why he did it,” said Nina. “It’s not that. Annie, don’t you remember how inadequate you felt when you found out? How somehow it felt like your fault, even when you were the angriest you’d ever been? How it was like something had been torn from your insides?”

Annie was quiet for a moment.

“Oh that,” she said finally, smiling a little. “I definitely remember that.”

“It’s going to take time more than anything,” said Nina. “I’ve got his child growing inside of me. His werewolf child. Child of a bloody prophecy.”

“Right,” said Annie. Nina had told her about Mitchell’s words a few days before. “Okay, time is fine. But there’s no reason we can’t celebrate the baby being alive.”

“You are unbelievable,” said Nina.

“Even if it’s just a girl’s night, we should,” said Annie, getting excited again. “This is a big deal.”

“Right,” said Nina.

Annie sighed and looked down.

“Nina, when…when I came back and Mitchell told me what-what he did, it was all those things you just said. It was so hard to forgive him. It was like giving myself up. But I found myself on the other side of that feeling because he’s…a part of me. I don’t want to live without him, even if that means there’s a possibility he might hurt me.”

“Annie, no,” said Nina, her worst fears realized. “You said you weren’t going to go there so don’t go there.”

Annie shrugged.

“I’m there. There’s no way I can deny it now. I’m trying not to do anything about it. If it’s going to happen, it can happen later.”

“Annie, there’s so much darkness in him,” said Nina.

Annie’s face quieted.

“There’s so much darkness in all of us, Nina. I-I’ve killed a man. You’re the only one of us who hasn’t.”

Nina didn’t know what to say to that. It was true. They didn’t bring it up, didn’t talk about it, but Annie had been very different that night when she took Kemp. She’d been glowing, transparent, a purple fire in her eyes. Beautiful in a haunting, terrifying way.

“Just be careful, okay?” said Nina. “I don’t want to him to hurt you and it’s not like…well, he may not be around for much longer.”

“Just don’t plan on killing him, okay?” asked Annie, lightly enough, but there was an underlying seriousness in her tone.

Nina pursed her lips.

“Annie, I don’t plan on killing Mitchell, even though sometimes I’d like nothing better. But…I can’t control myself as the wolf and so…it’s possible it might be me.”

“We all know that,” said Annie, seemingly trying to smile. “Besides, I’ve got that in hand.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Nina.

“Whatever needs to be done,” said Annie. “But first I’ve got to get back and start cooking. It’s going to be very good. All the things I said before. Oh, and Jenga! See you back at the house."

Annie rent-a-ghosted away and Nina was left rolling her eyes.

"Pissing Jenga."

Of course, she had much bigger problems to face other than the fact that she hated Jenga.

She looked down at the ultrasound picture. The baby looked normal enough, if slightly huge. She’d had to fudge her conception date with the people in imaging. She appeared to be much further along than was normal. Of course, Nina had, after a tense conversation with Mitchell, looked up the normal gestation period for wolves and discovered that they got a whopping sixty-three days on average.

If she were truly on wolf time she’d be in labor right now so she figured she’d have at least three more months - a compromise with the wolf as it were. But nothing was certain.

Beyond that was the fact that George was now sleeping in another bedroom. Nina had asked him to, but it was…ridiculously lonely without him. So far she’d only come to the conclusion that she wanted him to be a father for her child. Whether that meant being with her as well, she hadn’t yet decided.

She’d need all the help she could get figuring out what was going to happen with this child. Mitchell had promised to reach out and see what he could figure out, but that scared Nina. Who else was he going to reach out to but vampires? She didn’t want a single one of them knowing about her pregnancy and Mitchell’s involvement with werewolves was too well known for people not to guess where his inquiries were really coming from.

They had to proceed very cautiously, which was driving George crazy. Then there was Mitchell who already spent every last second freaking out over his impending doom. Only when Annie was around did he deign to calm down. Perhaps there was something to that relationship after all for all that Nina hoped there wasn’t. It just meant that everything was up in the air and Nina hated that feeling.

“But you’re safe for now,” she whispered, touching her stomach, clutching the photo.

***

Mitchell slipped out of the house. Only George was home, sitting around moping about Nina, but Mitchell was still cautious. The last few days had been like living in a time bomb. It was just a tossup as to who would crack first. All of them were affected by everything that was going on. Mitchell didn’t want to do anything to break the fragile truce. But…he couldn’t help himself. He had to find out what Herrick knew.

Daisy had kindly slipped him their forwarding address and Mitchell was using Nina’s shift at the hospital as a convenient time to visit. Technically nothing had been said about Mitchell not talking to them, but he was well aware that it was implied in Nina’s ultimatum that none of them associate with anyone from their past.

Considering how deadly serious George had been about giving Mitchell up, Mitchell knew that anything he did now was potential grounds for him being thrown out of their lives. The idea was excruciatingly painful, but so was the idea of losing his life and not being with them anymore anyway.

Besides, there was the baby to consider. Mitchell knew the secrets to the werewolf progeny prophecy were locked somewhere in Herrick’s head, along with the formula of immortality. There weren’t too many other avenues for Mitchell to pursue in helping them find answers. He wasn’t exactly on good terms with a lot of the Old Ones. Even though Carl wasn’t technically an Old One, he might know, so Mitchell had sent out feelers to see if he could get in touch with him.

Other than that, there was no one Mitchell would trust to give him the answers and protect George and Nina and the baby. Daisy might have been told things by Ivan, but she was hardly likely to give up the information willingly, and he doubted she would have been interested in any case. That left amnesiac Herrick. Mitchell was doing it for them, he really was. If he got to live because of it, well, that was just a bonus. At least that’s what he told himself.

He knocked on the door and Daisy opened it.

“Well, now, this is a surprise,” she said. “I thought we were on our own?”

“Daisy, quit messing around,” Mitchell said, in no mood for her games. “Do you want my help or not?”

“I think you’re getting the better end of the deal,” she said and gestured grandly behind her. “Welcome to our humble home.” Mitchell brushed past her and found Cara hovering over a disgusted-looking Herrick. “Cara, baby, let’s go into the kitchen. There’re some leftovers.”

Mitchell shot a sharp glance at Daisy who stared defiantly at him. Mitchell sighed, there wasn’t much he could do to stop them feeding without killing them all. Yes, he was prepared to do so to stop major events like Graham copycatting the Box Tunnel massacre, but he didn’t feel like he had any sort of right to stop the entire world of vampires from feeding. That didn’t keep him from feeling guilty. If they were under his roof he’d have some measure of control over what they did. He thought he might anyway. Then again, was he just justifying his desire to have full access to Herrick whenever he wanted?

He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He was so tired of making moral judgments. Every day, every second, was a constant effort to keep his own blood lust under control. He didn’t have time to police anybody else. That’s what had led him to disaster after Herrick died.

Cara went with Daisy reluctantly and Mitchell pulled up a chair in front of Herrick, deliberately laying a stake on his knee.

Herrick stared at him calmly.

“How’s Nina?” he asked.

Mitchell ignored him.

"Okay, if this amnesia thing was a bluff, even you'd be cracking now. So let’s start at the beginning. William Herrick, born 1843. Made vampire in 1890. You survived a werewolf attack. You survived it and you found a way back. Which means you've got something that I want. And if I have to dig the secret out of your skull with my nails I'll do it. I'm gonna make you tell me everything.”

“I think you may be crazy,” said Herrick.

Mitchell laughed grimly.

“John Mitchell, vampire. Made vampire by the aforementioned William Herrick. I know you better than anyone alive. So let’s just take it for granted I know what I’m talking about, okay?”

“If we know each other so well,” said Herrick, “why did you try to kill me?”

“Because you’re not a good person, Herrick,” said Mitchell. “You’ve slaughtered thousands of people without a thought and you tried to make me the same as you.”

“So, you’re saying you haven’t slaughtered thousands of people?” asked Herrick innocently.

Mitchell’s lips twisted upwards.

“I’m no innocent,” he said bitterly. “Partly that’s my own arrogance, but a hell of a lot of it is down to you, so don’t expect any mercy from me.”

“If I survived an attack as you say,” said Herrick, “how did I survive it? Where are my scars?”

“That’s what I want to know,” said Mitchell. “Now, you and I have talked before about things like this. Supposedly you were gonna make me your heir. But I never did get my inheritance. You were too busy using me as your puppet, strung out on blood, barely knowing the difference between right and wrong. I left you, by the grace of one human, and now…now she’s dead. Because of you. So we’re gonna work with you until I figure out why you’re alive.”

“That’s a rather ambitious task,” said Herrick. “But we’ve a lovely day for it.”

“Have you had any blood since the last time we met?” Mitchell asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Herrick, but his face twitched. “Those…women held me down.”

Mitchell kept on, he kept asking him questions, reminding Herrick of things they’d done, telling him his life. Some of it made Mitchell sick to remember but he kept on. It was sobering in a way to be reminded of how much of their lives had been spent together. Also, it reminded him of just how much Mitchell owed to the man before him. The charisma that Herrick had was greatly toned down now, but Mitchell could still feel it pulling at him. There were moments when Mitchell wanted Herrick to remember him, to remember their relationship, to feel that kinship between them. To truly make Mitchell his heir. That would be easier, much easier than what Mitchell was trying to do.

It was exhausting. Herrick was slippery and cordial, seemingly intrigued and disgusted by Mitchell’s stories. Every once in a while he would show some sign of recognition, but nothing that gave Mitchell any hope. This was going to be a long and arduous process and somehow Mitchell had the idea that only killing and draining someone would actually bring Herrick back. Mitchell couldn’t do that.

In the end he left Herrick (who was shackled to the wall; apparently he’d tried to run from his precious Cara a few times) and joined Daisy and Cara in the kitchen. Cara immediately left to see how Herrick was and Mitchell slumped against the counter.

“Hard day’s work, soldier?” asked Daisy mockingly.

Mitchell didn’t answer for a minute. His brain was still trying to catch up to everything he’d observed in the last few hours.

“What’s it to you, anyway?” he finally asked. “What’s in this for you, Daisy? You don’t care about Herrick or Cara.”

“Maybe I care about you,” said Daisy suggestively.

“Maybe,” he said. “But not enough. We’ve been… friends a long time, Daisy, don’t forget I know you. I know what Ivan meant to you, so tell me why you’re not out there wreaking havoc on the world.”

“Maybe I’m tired,” she snapped. “Havoc’s not quite as much fun without someone to share it with, you know,” she said, her tone easing.

“I’m sorry you lost him,” he said. “I know it’s my fault.”

“I don’t blame you for that, Mitchell,” said Daisy. “I blame you for leaving me when I needed you. For forgiving humanity when they took him from us.”

She hopped up on the counter and glared at him, Mitchell closed his eyes.

“Don’t you think that sometimes humanity lumps us all together?” he asked. “Should they kill all of us because one of us killed one of them?”

“As exciting as the idea of slaughtering the entire world is,” said Daisy, “it’s a bit passé. There’s the whole ‘needing to feed’ problem. But humanity wouldn’t bother to think about that. They don’t think they need us for anything.”

“So are you saying we’re better than them or worse?” he asked.

“You chose humanity, Mitchell,” said Daisy, smiling sadly. “You tell me.”

“This is a pointless debate,” he said, because sometimes he wasn’t sure himself.

“Were we debating?” she asked.

“I just want to know why you’re here,” he said. “Stop playacting.”

“If I stopped,” Daisy said coldly, “it would put all your little humans at risk. There are plenty of trains, Mitchell, and I enjoyed myself quite a lot. Be very glad that I’m flippant, because if I wasn’t I’d make sure the whole world felt my pain.”

Mitchell thought about that for a second and then reached over and tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Don’t get too sentimental,” she said. “That’s just boring.”

“Ivan told me-” Mitchell said, and then stopped. “I was going to leave the funeral parlor. For Lucy.” Even now his heart gave a painful squeeze when he thought about her and what they’d put each other through. “Ivan said he’d take over. Do you know why?”

“He never got a chance to tell me,” Daisy said shortly, but her tone was curious.

“He said I should have told him it was about love. ‘Everyone deserves a Daisy,’ he said.”

Daisy bowed her head and when she lifted it again, her eyes were moist.

“I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you,” she said.

“How about neither,” he said.

She laughed.

“I presume we shall see you again?”

“He’s in there somewhere,” Mitchell said, nodding. “I’m going to get it out of him.”

“It would be a rather sorry world without John Mitchell,” she said thoughtfully. “Messing everyone’s lives up.”

Mitchell turned and left.

Cara was waiting for him by the front door.

“He’s all tired,” she said. “Don’t you hurt him!”

“Cara, get a life,” said Mitchell. “Don’t you have an original thought of your own?”

“I’m his,” Cara said simply.

“But not always,” said Mitchell suddenly, a thought occurring to him. “Tell me, Cara, back when I smashed your teeth, why those girls in the shopping center?”

Cara put her hand to her mouth as if remembering the pain.

“What’d you mean?” she asked.

“Those girls you killed, there were three of them there, but you only killed two. The commissioner told me later they were convicted felons, so why them and not the other one?”

“They were tasty,” said Cara, her face settling into a dream-like state. “They were nasty too, picking on that other girl. I gave them what they deserved.”

“You didn’t kill her though,” Mitchell prompted.

“You said to straighten up,” said Cara. “Those two deserved to die. You wouldn’t want her dead. That was right.”

She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world but Mitchell stared at her for a few moments. The idea that Cara had any kind of a conscience, some idea of trying to follow the rules, was revolutionary. She had been vacant and simple in life and now in death she was still a follower, but she had the power to choose who she followed.

He couldn’t deal with such an idea; it would give him second thoughts. All he really wanted to do was go home and sleep and forget that once again he had people’s lives resting on his shoulders.

“Just be good, Cara,” he said. “Don’t go killing. You don’t want to bring any attention to your precious Herrick, do you?”

“Daisy gets what I need,” said Cara. “But don’t you worry about him. I’m gonna make him better.”

Mitchell just left and cautiously made his way back home, stopping at the local library first.

They had some of the texts he wanted, but it was far more likely a local bookshop would be better. Besides, he was trying to keep a low profile. Not just for Nina and George’s sake - it would be far better if no one knew the John Mitchell formerly of Bristol was now in Barry. Investigations on the Box Tunnel massacre hadn’t been going very well and the public was starting to get angry in its demand for justice.

Mitchell had heard rumors even before Graham came to town that the Old Ones were going to get involved, so he was going to avoid them if he possibly could. Something like this wouldn’t be below their notice. He doubted they’d come after him, but they wouldn’t be happy if they found him, so he definitely wanted to stay hidden if at all possible.

Armed with a few books he slipped back into the house and up to his room. Annie had left a note on his door along with a pile of laundry she’d neatly folded.

He studied the little hearts on her note and leaned his head against the door for a moment. This would be so much easier if she wasn’t the most amazing woman he’d ever come in contact with. Why did she have to be exactly what he wanted? Delicious smells wafted up to him from the kitchen and he went inside and shut his door, prepared to read, even if it bored him to death.

***

George lay on his new bed, staring at the ceiling. Yes, he had quite a tendency to wallow when bad things happened, he knew that. It was just a lot easier to stay in bed and lament his life than it was to get up and do anything about it. He was trying to give Nina her space, he really was. She’d accepted his explanation and she was safe, those were the only two things he really wanted. If she asked him to sleep somewhere else, well, that was her prerogative.

He hated sleeping alone. He was too used to her warmth, the way she looked, her hair spread out on the pillow. He’d watched her sleeping sometimes and reflected with pride how she was his, how she’d chosen him. Well, he couldn’t do that any longer and it was hard. He only wished he’d taken the time to appreciate her while she had been his. Now, she just treated him with a quiet civility. Barely better than Mitchell, George thought grumpily.

Things were quieter now. There had been such a flurry of activity with Sasha, Graham, and then Herrick, George had forgotten what things were like when it was quiet. But there was something this quiet was lacking, a rush of adrenaline that made George sit up and take action. Through the quiet he went to his shifts at the hospital, came to the table when Annie dragged him there, and went through a daily awkward encounter with Nina where he asked her how she was and she replied and they parted ways. He almost wished something would happen so he could feel like he was needed in some way, so that he could run after her, so that he could stop Mitchell from being foolish. Just something other than this loneliness.

He knew that was a stupid thing to wish and that this was the time when everything could grow and change and become better, but he was still stuck in his grieving stage.

After a week, he stopped feeling quite as sorry for himself and began to realize that if he wanted any chance at getting Nina back fully he would have to stop acting like a moody teenager. It had started when Annie came back from the hospital, raving about the ultrasound picture Nina had taken and how they had to celebrate the baby surviving the transformation. That definitely peaked George’s interest and it had melted his heart, seeing the picture for the first time.

That night had been almost good. First, all the good things Annie had made for supper and then the way Nina had looked almost happy to see him. Mitchell had been peaked looking and worn out, but Annie had been blushing like a schoolgirl every time she looked at Mitchell. Really, everything was almost normal.

Because of that when George heard Mitchell return from wherever he went almost every afternoon; he got out of bed and knocked on his door.

“Come in,” called Mitchell.

George entered the room to find Mitchell’s bed covered in books.

“I didn’t think you were such an avid reader,” said George.

“Take a shower, mate, you stink,” said Mitchell.

“You should be subjected to your smell on a daily basis, and then you might change your mind,” replied George primly.

“Never mind,” said Mitchell. “What can I do you for?”

“Nothing,” said George, trying to appear nonchalant. “Just wondering where you’ve been and why.”

Mitchell stared at him for a moment and then ducked his head.

“Uh, just out. You know. Getting some books.”

“Yeah,” said George, trying not to be too suspicious of the way Mitchell avoided looking him in the face. “I can see that.”

“It’s for you, you know,” said Mitchell. “Trying to get some info about little baby George.”

“Do you think it will be a boy?” asked George, sinking down on the bed, moving some books aside.

“You sound like Annie again, are you sure you two didn’t switch bodies or something?” asked Mitchell.

“Mitchell!” said George. “Can’t I have a conversation about my impending child without allegations of bodysnatching?”

“Cause I’ve done that so often,” said Mitchell, leaning back. “No, I don’t know. I can sense the life inside Nina, but I’m not a bloody sonogram.”

“Have you found anything interesting?” asked George, peering at some of the book titles.

“Pretty much being bored to death,” said Mitchell. “Looks like it will be werewolf books that kill me and not an actual werewolf.”

“Mitchell,” began George.

“I’m just joking,” said Mitchell, sighing and closing his eyes. “Let me cope in my own way.”

“I don’t want you to go,” said George simply.

“Well, none of us are going to get what we want, looks like,” said Mitchell.

George didn’t want to think about that so he changed the subject.

“What does Annie want?” asked George slyly

Mitchell looked sharply at him, and then buried his head in his hands.

"Uh, I think Annie might fancy me."

George allowed himself a grin.

"Finally."

"You knew?" exclaimed Mitchell in a wounded tone, looking up.

"Oh, Mitchell, Annie is many things, but subtle she is not. You rescued her from hell. That kind of thing tends to turn a girl's head."

"How long have you known?" asked Mitchell.

"I don't know…a couple of weeks.” George nudged him. “For future reference nobody says fancy anymore."

Mitchell got up and started pacing. George almost wanted to laugh, Mitchell appeared very agitated and it was funny to see him losing his calm when he usually tried to play everything so cool.

"You didn't think to tell me you knew."

"Nope, because I'm not twelve," said George, rolling his eyes.

"What did she say about me?"

"Nothing," said George.

"Okay, so she hasn't actually told you," said Mitchell, stopping his pacing.

"Okay, we are twelve. No, she hasn't told me she fancies you,” George answered. “She doesn't need to. Her body language is deafening."

"What a mess," groaned Mitchell.

"But who knows. You two, you two could be good for each other."

"She could be…good for me. But-"

George wasn’t going to let Mitchell finish that sentence. He didn’t know why he was so happy about the idea of Annie and Mitchell becoming a couple but he had the striking feeling it had a lot to do with his own failing relationship.

Besides, there was definitely something to it, something rather poetic about a ghost and a vampire, both immortal in their death. Beyond that, Annie would help Mitchell keep to the right path when George was gone and Mitchell was a great steadying influence on Annie.

"And you'll be good to her," George said firmly.

"Of course. I'd never…"

Mitchell trailed off and George paused to consider the situation more practically. There were a lot of variables involved and looking beyond his desire for his friends to be happy, he could see that if it were to happen, it would be a huge change for both of them and a huge commitment.

"Mitchell, if you're thinking about doing this, don't go into it lightly. This is no little thing. This is Annie we're talking about."

"George, you gotta know I would never intentionally hurt her."

"Yeah, I know,” said George. He leaned forward, not wanting to get lost in the seriousness of the moment. Besides, opportunities to make Mitchell uncomfortable were few and far in between. He started giggling. “Sorry, I was just…so, uh, are you gonna ask her out?" Mitchell glared at him. "This could be so cool."

"I don't know. I mean, how would it even work? With a ghost?"

"What do you mean?"

Mitchell’s face contorted through several strange expressions and he made some interesting gestures before he spoke again.

"Sex," Mitchell spit out.

George raised his eyebrows because he hadn’t even been thinking about that and didn’t necessarily want to.

“That, my friend, is your problem,” he said. “I don’t want anything to do with it and if anyone asks, I’ll deny we had this conversation.”

“Great pal, you are,” said Mitchell.

“Glad we had this little chat. Or perhaps didn’t,” said George, getting up and feeling much better. “But, it will be fine, just talk to her.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Mitchell moodily.

After he left Mitchell George made his way down to the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge for leftovers. He’d eat and then clean himself up a bit. It was time to move forward again.

He’d made himself a sandwich when Nina entered the room and froze when she saw him.

He paused, his mouth wrapped around sandwich mid-bite. Chewing hastily he swallowed and cleared his throat.

“Uh, I can…go.”

Nina sighed and sat down at the table.

“No, uh, no, you don’t have to go. We should…talk.”

George’s heart started hammering inside his chest. Was this going to be the kind of talk that finally cleared the air between them or was this the talk that ended with Nina gone from George’s life forever?

He sat down with his sandwich.

“Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks,” she said. “Still a bit queasy sometimes.”

“Is that normal, do you think?” he asked.

She shrugged.

“I don’t think any of us are going to know what’s normal. Clearly, I’m growing at a substantial rate and all bets are off as to how long this will take.”

“Uh, have you thought…about what, what you’d like to do about work?” he asked, carefully studying his sandwich.

“I think I need to quit,” said Nina. “I can’t keep showing up like this and pretending this is a normal pregnancy. Something’s going to give it away. They are doctors there, after all.”

“But don’t you need a doctor for the, the, uh, the birth?” asked George.

“I just don’t think we can risk it,” said Nina. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m a nurse; we’ll study up on wolf births just in case there’s some weird twist from that. You’ll…be there.”

“I-I-I will?” asked George, finally daring to raise his head.

Nina closed her eyes and then opened them, staring determinedly at George’s chin.

“Yes. I don’t know what the future holds,” she said like she’d been practicing. “I am still so angry with you and I don’t feel like I can trust you with…my heart. But, I know you’ll be a good father. I know you’ll love this child. I know you’ll do anything to protect us, so I want you to be…involved, in our child’s life. To be the father. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

“Nina,” George breathed out, afraid he might start sobbing, “thank you.”

“I don’t think any other solution is possible, really,” she said.

“But it means the world to me,” he said earnestly.

“It doesn’t mean I forgive you,” she said, wiping a tear from her eyes. “You’ve…you’ve cleaved me in two with what you’ve done, George. You promised to be there for me. Having this baby scares me more than anything I’ve ever done in my life. You promised to help me and now…now you did this. How could you do this to me?” He didn’t have an answer for her. Nina took a deep breath and spoke again. “I can’t do this alone so…in some ways we’re in this together, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, ignoring how hurt her words made him feel. He deserved them, after all. “Nina, whatever you need, okay?”

“Sure,” she said. “Let’s just get through this pregnancy. We can see where things are then.”

“I can do that,” he said, hoping he could without completely falling apart or begging her to take him back at least once a day.

“Um, you might want to see about taking some more shifts if you can?” she said. “I, uh, know money will be tight.”

“We can’t make Mitchell get a job?” he asked hopefully.

“He says,” Nina said carefully, “and I agree with him, that it would be best if he wasn’t in the public eye right now. There’s too much investigation into the Box Tunnel massacre. We can’t afford to have people poking around.”

“Are you okay with that?” he asked, studying her closely. “I mean, he’s guilty.”

“I’d just as soon turn him in,” she said briskly. “Daisy too. But there would be too many questions, too much attention brought to all of us. I can’t risk that for the baby. And…we need his help.”

“But can you do that?” he persisted. “Can you live with that?”

“I’m the one who usually asks those questions,” she said, then sighed. “The answer is I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like we’re all stuck in quicksand, just getting more and more bogged down. There was always something to make me agree with what he said. Something inside me agreed with what happened, mostly because I didn’t want to lose you. I don’t have that excuse anymore, but then I became responsible for another life. I’d do anything to keep this baby safe, George, anything. Even live with a vampire and his past.”

George ducked his head at the ferocity in her tone, thinking.

“Say Mitchell weren’t a vampire,” he said slowly. “Or, say he was and had just never killed anyone. What would you think about him?”

“He’d still be a prick,” said Nina quickly, but with an edge of teasing in her tone. George looked at her. She shook her head. “I don’t have the energy for what if games. All I’ll say is that…well, I think Mitchell and I would get on pretty well if we weren’t in the situation we’re in. We each understand how the other thinks.”

George couldn’t deny he felt a thrill at that. It had always torn at him, the friction between two of the people he loved most.

“Okay,” he said, not wanting to push. “Um, so, I know we’re not okay, but we’re semi-on-the-way-to-okay, maybe?”

“Very semi,” she said. “You don’t have to duck out of the room every time I come in. We do live together, after all.”

“I hope you know you can still…talk to me,” he said.

“I know,” she said.

He noted she didn’t say she would, but he’d take what he could get.

“If I’m going to be impressive at the job I should probably shower,” he said, standing up.

“I’d highly recommend a shave as well,” she said dryly.

George laughed and got up. Now that he was to be the main breadwinner of this odd family, well, he’d better look the part.