I'd Make A Deal With God.

Thomas Mitchell. A pleasure. ((This is an independent OC blog for John Mitchell's brother from Being Human (UK).))

[thomas-mitchell]

[theunspeakablething-blog]

[thomas-mitchell]

[theunspeakablething-blog]

 

[thomas-mitchell]

[theunspeakablething-blog]

"Yeah. I c’n imagine." If he flinched, it wasn’t on purpose. "Sounds good, I s’ppose. Remind me ta’ cover up for t’at."

[thomas-mitchell]

"Y' don't have ta go in. Jus' take a look. How've y' been, Johnny?"

[thomas-mitchell]

"Yeah."

"Didn’t touch th’ nuns, o’course. Or th’ priests. Or tell ‘em what I was. But ‘t was nice. Gave m’ some perspective."

[theunspeakablething-blog]

"Good. T’at’s good. So you didn’t run int’ any trouble, then? You’re braver t’en I am, stepping onto Holy ground."

[thomas-mitchell]

"Hurt like Hell. But t'at's what 't's all about, right? Penance 'nd all that? Worth't though. Helped rebuild a monastery. We should go see 't sometime."

[theunspeakablething-blog]

"Did you?"

"Haven’t stepped inside one o’ t’ose in ages."

[thomas-mitchell]

"Yeah."

"Didn't touch th' nuns, o'course. Or th' priests. Or tell 'em what I was. But 't was nice. Gave m' some perspective."

[theunspeakablething-blog]

"…Yeah. Yeah, ‘course.

"You visit home?"

[thomas-mitchell]

"No."

"Jus' took some time. Thought about goin' back but I knew 't wouldn't help. Actually spent some time'n a church."

[theunspeakablething-blog]

"Ah, fuck. I missed you, too. Where y’ been?"

[thomas-mitchell]

"Had t' take some time. Had t' learn t' forgive, t' move on."

[thomas-mitchell]

“‘m callin’ you an arsehole!”

[theunspeakablething-blog]

"If t’ere was a pillow wit’in reach I would hit you with it."

[thomas-mitchell]

"I missed you, Johnny Boy."

[thomas-mitchell]

"'m callin' you an arsehole!"

[me-and-my-creepy-mind]

[thecrownlesskings]

(source: RAnet; my edit)

[thatlastingdose]

Feels ;____;

[r-armitage-dum-spiro-spero]

[thomas-mitchell]

r-armitage-dum-spiro-spero:

Lucas North (Spooks, 7.03): reliving his years in a Russian prison.

[theunspeakablething-blog]

....

[theunspeakablething-blog]

Now that Thom was doing this - letting go - John hesitated. His hand stretched towards his brother’s shoulder, and lingered there, close to touching, but not quite. It was if he’d break a spell. An illusion. If he screwed this up now, of all times, there was no taking it back. There would be no more second chances.

He may have sounded sure of himself, but John sure as hell wasn’t. He was a hypocrite - a selfish, lying hypocrite who jumped back into danger and darkness and loss for fun, because he had some sort of craving for pain, for suffering. He had nothing else. All those years he didn’t have Thom, he had nothing else, and he had to change that, whether it was for himself, or for his brother, or for the both of them.

[thomas-mitchell]

Thom blindly reached out and grabbed his brother. It wasn't to hurt him or hit him - though a part of Thom thought both of those things to be very good ideas. It was to hold him close as an anchor. Thom needed something to remind him of his present and his future and of his past. As when they were children and John would reach for Thom in times of blind distress, Thom reached for John this time. He didn't particularly care if he looked like a child or if his actions made little sense. Thom's mind was no longer in control. This was all his heart's doing.

While Thom may never be able to completely forgive John, he would absolutely never be able to hate him. Family was so simple and easy for Thom because it was always a clear set standard when he was human. Now that those lines were blurred and crossed so many times, his feelings for his brother were no longer simply human.

[theunspeakablething-blog]

....

[thomas-mitchell]

Thom gave John an incredulous, nearly vicious look. “Because clearly family’s so important t’ ya. Who gives a shit, John? Really. Who gives a shit wha’ they’d say? They’re dead. ‘nd I’d really like t’ be there.”

[theunspeakablething-blog]

“I do. You may not care anymore, but I do.” His hands tightened into fists at his sides.  ”We’re th’ only ones left. Th’ only thing we have is each other. Are you jus’ gonna sit there an’ rot for th’ rest o’ your life? What’s it gonna take ta’ get you back on your fuckin’ feet?”

[thomas-mitchell]

John sounded so sure of everything. So... unaffected. Like the past was the past and it should stay there. But Thomas had been living in the past so long he wasn't even sure he had a future. The precise moment he realized that was the precise moment the proverbial levee broke. Thom started crying and he just couldn't stop. It wasn't simpering, whining, gentle mewls that came out of his mouth. It was full on guttural, harsh, gasping sobs. Thom had let himself wallow and be miserable, but he hadn't actually let himself grieve. This time he wasn't crying for their loss or for their lives or for the fact that his baby brother was a monster. This time he was crying because it was time he said goodbye. Really, truly said goodbye. Thom would be damned if John wasn't with him because even though John caused this whole thing, Thom couldn't hate him. Not his baby brother.

[thomas-mitchell]

When he left for England, Thomas took two photos with him. They had been expensive to have done and had taken a while but they were well worth it. One of the photos was of all his children, together with he and Clara, in front of their farm, taken just a week before they found out that Clara was pregnant again. That was Thom's bragging picture - the one he showed off to every man at every pub who still had the use of his ears (and if their ears were defective, Thom would point and gesture until the cows came home).

That photo burned up a long time ago.

But the one he still keeps, even though it's old, stained, ripped, and fading, is the portrait Clara gave him for his 33rd birthday - the year before he left. Each night before he settles in for sleep, Thom kisses the photo and says 'goodnight'. Always 'goodnight' and never 'goodbye' because even though he knows it's impossible, he still holds out hope that one day he'll be with them again.

[thomas-mitchell]