EMBERS

Hey everybody! This is my new story Embers. I recently discovered Being Human and I'm totally in love with it… especially Aidan Turner…*le drool*… Anyways, I noticed an unacceptable lack of Mitchell/OC fics and decided to rectify the situation! This story will explore Mitchell struggling with his vampirism and having a human girlfriend, and how she would affect the story. Anyways, just leave a review and tell me if you think this story is worth continuing.

He had meant to just feed on her, but now he was intrigued. She was fire encased in human form, and in the time they had been together, she had fallen for him. In hindsight, she had given herself too wholly to him. He toyed with her emotions, stoking the embers higher. He forgot that if you play with fire, you'll likely be burned.

The man across the bar was staring at her. She didn't mind; she was beautiful and she knew it, and he was attractive too. If anything, she was flattered by the intense hazel gaze so fixed on her, but she knew it wouldn't lead anywhere. She had been in bad relationships in the last few years, and was by no means ready to allow anybody else close enough to harm her. It wasn't as though she had had her heart broken; she was far too practical to let any man hold her heart. As a child, she had witnessed her parents' marriage struggling. Their whole lives had revolved on trying to get through each day. There was never any finality, never any success; there was only the next day and the next disappointment. So she had learnt to use men for her own amusement. She had long, wavy auburn hair that tumbled down her back to reach her waist. Her silver eyes were as hard and unyielding as an iron shield. Twenty three years of disappointments had made her guarded and to strangers she seemed cold and aloof. However, if one took the time to break down the walls encasing her heart, they would find that she was warm and affectionate. She was stubborn and fiery, a fierce protector.

"Hello gorgeous," the man grinned, sidling up beside her. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Hiding from you." She said with a sweet smile. This didn't seem to discourage the man, and he grinned wider if anything.

"Ouch," he chuckled. "You wound me, fair lady."

"Uh-huh." She deadpanned, unimpressed.

"You don't talk much, do you?" he asked.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" she asked with mock surprise.

"Wild guess," he smirked. "I'm Mitchell, by the way."

"Uh-huh." She repeated.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he offered.

"I already have a drink." She replied, brandishing the half empty glass.

"Can I buy you another?" he asked. She rolled her eyes, then glanced him up and down, as though appraising an item. He was handsome enough, she supposed, with his black curls and piercing hazel eyes.

"Why not." She threw back the rest of her drink. He would do, for the night.

"Impressive," he whistled, forking over the cash to buy her a refill. "I like a girl who can handle her alcohol." She shrugged.

"I'm Irish."

"Ditto," he grinned. "Haven't been back in a long time."

"How long?" she enquired curiously. He peered into the depths of his beer, suddenly thoughtful.

"A long time." He repeated breathily.

"Right." She said awkwardly.

"What about you? How long has it been since you saw the old country?" he asked, grin back in place.

"I left as soon as I finished school, so about four or five years." She said.

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why did you leave?" he clarified.

"I'm not drunk enough to have this conversation with a stranger." She said curtly, swigging her drink.

"Fair enough," he said. "I understand." It was odd, but she felt like he really did understand. It wasn't very often that she felt understood, so she chugged her whiskey and slammed the glass down on the bar with an air of finality.

"I'm running." She admitted. He glanced at her with genuine interest, so different from the men who had only ever wanted her for her beauty.

"From what?" he asked.

"From my past," she began. "I just want to forget about my life before Bristol."

"What about your family?" he asked. She glanced sideways at him.

"Let's just say I didn't leave a lot behind."

"And what do you do? Here in Bristol, I mean."

"I'm a nurse." She said.

"Oh?"

"I like being able to help people." She said quietly, as though embarrassed by the confession. Mitchell frowned at her tone of voice.

"That's a good thing, no?"

"It wasn't exactly my specialty back in Ireland," She suddenly flushed scarlet, embarrassed at revealing so much of herself to him, a complete stranger. "Now, how are you making me talk so much? I'm telling you my darkest secrets as casually as though we were discussing the weather?" he gave her a genuine grin.

"I have a trustworthy face," He said simply, grinning cheekily. She chuckled and rolled her eyes at him. "How about I take you out?" he suddenly said.

"Excuse me?"

"You know, a date." He elaborated.

"I don't think so," she said, sliding off her bar stool and starting away from him. "I don't really do the whole 'dating' thing." Mitchell stood as well, alarmed by her sudden departure.

"Come on," he said, following her out of the bar. "You've not even told me your name!"

"If I tell you my name will you leave me alone?" she asked with a smirk.

"No promises." He grinned again as she hailed a taxi and opened the door.

"It's Scarlet." She said, then climbed in the taxi and swung the door shut. He watched her drive away. The woman was far too interesting for him to forget about. He had meant to just feed on her, but now he was intrigued.

BH:UK

He went to the café to meet Marco and Digby, put in a foul mood by his thirst, not having managed to feed the night before after being rebuffed by Scarlet. He approached the café from the back to avoid being seen by humans, and found Marco and Digby beating up a defenceless, weedy man. Sniffing the air, his keen senses told him that it was a werewolf.

"Whoa! What are you doing?" he demanded of them, jogging up to them.

"We saw him in the caff." Digby grinned, kicking the man in the stomach. He let out a cry of pain and curled further in on himself.

"Got something to say, Mitchell?" Marco asked with a triumphant grin, the thrill of the sight of blood rushing through him.

"How many people in the cafe?" Mitchell asked.

"A few." Digby said.

"Uh-huh. Anyone see you leave?" Mitchell asked, barely containing his fury.

"Does it matter?" Marco demanded, baring his fangs.

"I don't know, Marco, their kitchen guy turns up dead and they've seen you go after him, do you think maybe they might see the connection?" Mitchell demanded sarcastically.

"So? They don't know who we are." Marco smiled smugly.

"They do. I got here before you arrived, got talking to the owner," Digby began, flushing as red as a vampire could. "His nan's dying, and he wanted an undertakers. So I kind of... Gave him our business card." He admitted nervously, fidgeting under Mitchell's furious gaze.

"Business cards?! We're not a real business!" Marco cried, the man they were beating forgotten.

"They were doing 300 for a fiver." Digby justified with a wail. Marco let out a growl and grabbed the back of Digby's jacket, making a run for it.

"Look. I've got no love for lycos, but that's a big trail you're leaving there," Mitchell sighed, helping the werewolf to his feet. "All right. Come on."

"They were going to kill me." The werewolf mumbled as he struggled to his feet.

"Yeah." Mitchell said simply.

"Why?" the werewolf asked, confused and angry.

"They don't like werewolves." Mitchell said.

"How did they know?"

"People like us can recognise people like you." Mitchell scoffed.

"People like you?" the werewolf repeated.

"Vampires," Mitchell informed him. "Do you live near here?"

"I've a room over the cafe. Did you just say vampires?" he responded absentmindedly.

"You're gonna have to leave. They're gonna come back, they always do. I'm sorry." Mitchell said to him, starting away from him.

"And then what? I can't keep... I've lost...everything!" the werewolf cried. "I've had this for six months, and now there are vampires? And they want to kill me? So I have to leave...again? And then what?" his voice was shrill and desperate. She had said she was a nurse, hadn't she? Mitchell grinned, a plan already forming in his head.

"First, we'll get you to the hospital. You might have some broken ribs."

BH:UK

He half carried the werewolf- George, his name was- to the nearest hospital. While he was in with a doctor, Mitchell approached the reception.

"Excuse me, I'm looking for somebody, a nurse called Scarlet. D'you reckon you could help me?"\ The tired-looking receptionist glanced up at him dryly, perking up a bit when she saw his handsome face.

"For you, honey, anything," she smirked, tapping away at the keyboard. "Okay, we have one, her name is Scarlet Lockwood."

"Redhead?" Mitchell asked.

"Is this her?" the receptionist asked, spinning the monitor of her computer to show a personnel file. The photo showed his Scarlet, the mysterious woman from the night before.

"That's the one," he grinned. "Is she on duty tonight?"

"Lockwood, Lockwood, Lockwood," the receptionist muttered under her breath as she typed away. "Here we go, Scarlet Lockwood…" her eyes scanned the page for a moment. "Nope, she's not here tonight, she'll be working tomorrow though."

"Right."

"You a friend of hers?" the receptionist asked.

"I hope to be." He winked, before thanking her for her time and leaving.

BH:UK

He quickly got him and George jobs as porters in the hospital. On his first day of work, he ran into Scarlet.

"Mitchell?" Scarlet demanded as she stormed up to him.

"Morning, Scarlet." He smiled innocently.

"What are you doing here?!" she demanded.

"I'm the new porter!" he grinned, gesturing at the broom he held.

"Did you…" she trailed off uncertainly. "Did you come here to see me?"

"I'm not stalking you, if that's what you mean." He said.

"That's a relief."

"Will you go out with me yet?" he asked right off.

"Are you serious?" Scarlet demanded. "You're a persistent bugger."

"So I've been told." He grinned, waiting for a response. She deflated, realising he wouldn't be deterred.

"Will you leave me alone if I say yes?"

"No promises." Mitchell said.

"That's what you said last time." Scarlet groaned.

"Well, if the date is truly awful and we end up sticking our heads in the oven, I will leave you alone." He promised.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Scarlet said, pulling a pen out of her pocket. She took Mitchell's hand in her own. Her black fingerless gloves were soft cashmere against his calloused palm. She quickly wrote her name and phone number on the inside of his wrist. "Call me anytime after 5 any day, or I'll be at work."

"My thanks, fair and sweet lady." He mock bowed and she rolled her eyes, jogging away to do her rounds.

BH:UK

She arrived back at her flat a little after four thirty. It was nicely furnished and comfortable, but it wasn't a home. No knick-knacks or photos were displayed in the entire flat. There were no pictures of her family adorning the walls, as though she was trying to escape something in her past. She dropped her keys in the key bowl, before kicking off her shoes and going to the kitchen to microwave something for dinner. She was strictly a microwave meal person, having no cooking skill whatsoever. Her mother had never taught her, and she could never be bothered learning how. She had a very particular routine that she never strayed from, simply out of habit. She liked to know what to expect, but in the recent years she had found herself in a bit of an inescapable rut. She curled up on the couch with her macaroni and cheese to watch Real Hustle reruns. Suddenly, the phone rang, startling her. She didn't have many friends, and it wasn't common for her to receive phone calls. She sprang up from the sofa, digging through her handbag to find her mobile, wondering who it could possibly be. As she unlocked it, she saw that it was an unknown number. With only a moment's hesitation, she answered it.

"Hello?"

"Scarlet? It's John Mitchell."

"Who?"

"Mitchell. We met the other night…"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Good to know I'm so memorable." He said dryly.

"No, I know who you are!" she said quickly. "What's up?"

"I thought we could go out."

"Sure. When are you free?"

"Now, actually. What about you?"

"Uh, now?"

"Yeah. Is that okay?"

"Uh, s-sure! Where do you want to meet?" she grabbed a pen and wrote down the address Mitchell gave her.

"Fantastic. See you at eight."

"See you then," she said, hanging up and dropping the phone back into the depths of her bag. "Why the fuck did I say yes?" she demanded of herself. She glanced at her watch; it was five thirty. She let out a yelp and ran to her bathroom to shower. She only had three hours to get ready!

BH:UK

When she arrived at the pub, Mitchell was already there, waiting for her. She looked him up and down appreciatively. He looked fantastic in his black leather jacket, and his gorgeous hair was perfectly tousled. He grinned his handsome grin when he saw her, and ushered her over to the table he sat at. He ordered their drinks.

"Schnapps?" she asked disbelievingly as he sipped.

"I know it's pretty girly, but I picked up a taste for it when I lived in Venice."

"You lived in Venice?" she asked. Mitchell looked uncomfortable.

"Uhh, yeah. Exchange program, while I was in school."

"Doesn't that mean you would be underage?" she asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Eh, I meant while I was in college."

"You went to college?" she asked. "Why do you work as a hospital porter if you went to college?"

"Why are you asking so many questions?" he asked, sipping his drink.

"Isn't that what people do on dates?" she smirked.

"In that case, tell me about yourself." He said.

"Not a lot you don't already know," she said, sipping her drink. "My name is Scarlet Lockwood, I'm from Dublin and I'm a nurse." Mitchell gave her an unimpressed look.

"Well, that's rather boring."

"I'm not a very interesting person."

"I find that hard to believe." He scoffed.

"And why is that?" she enquired.

"You're pretty mysterious; it's obvious you're hiding something." He said, looking at her intensely.

"What does that mean?" she asked, suddenly nervous.

"It doesn't mean anything," he said, winking at her. "Just an observation."

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Well, what about you then?"

"Similar story, my name is John Mitchell, originally from Dublin, moved to Bristol for…work."

"How old are you, then?" she asked.

"Twenty four," he said quickly as though it were rehearsed. "Yourself?"

"I just turned twenty three."

"You're so young." he said, peering into the depths of his drink.

"You're only a year older than me." She reminded him.

"Y-yeah. Only a year."

They spent several hours drinking and talking. Both were reluctant to talk about themselves or their past, so they spoke of more generic things, such as memories of Ireland and their work at the hospital. Mitchell told her about his best friend George, and how they had just rented a house a few minutes from the hospital. When they were pleasantly tipsy, Mitchell kissed her clumsily, and she kissed him back with gusto. Soon, it grew late and he offered to walk her home.

BH:UK

"This is me." She said, gesturing towards the flat.

"Looks like a nice place." Mitchell whistled appreciatively. She unlocked the front door, then turned around to look at him.

"Would you like to come inside?" she asked shyly.

"Yeah," Mitchell grinned, and stepped closer to her. "Yeah, I would." Neither of them pretended like they didn't know what was going to happen. As soon as Scarlet closed the door behind them, Mitchell had her up against the wall, lips pressed together in a searing kiss. Their tongues duelled for dominance as they kissed passionately. Mitchell briefly pulled away from her to press his lips to her throat, nipping and sucking at her flesh. She dragged him away from her neck and led him by the hand into her bedroom. She shrugged off her leather jacket and wound her arms around his neck, pulling his face down for another kiss. He pushed away from her for just long enough to pull her shirt over her head. She shoved him back onto her bed, before crawling on top of him and grinding her hips against his. He flipped their positions so he was straddling her. She undid the buttons of his shirt and helped him yank it off. His head dipped again to kiss his way down her throat. Suddenly, she felt something in him change. Suddenly, his breathy groans turned to animalistic growling. He was fiercer, laving more attention on her neck. All he could hear was the beating of her pulse and the rushing of her blood in her veins. He tried to fight it back, but his will was overpowered by the blood lust.

"Mitchell?" she asked nervously as he grew more desperate. She glanced at his face, seeing his eyes were an inky black and long fangs protruded from his lips. "Mitchell!" He tore himself away from her and hit the wall hard, gasping for breath.

"Leave!" he cried. She ran to his side, trying to help him. "Get out!"

"No!" she said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest. He threw her her shirt and she tugged it on, before placing a hand on Mitchell's chest.

"It's not safe for you to be here!" Mitchell hissed.

"You're not getting rid of me!"

"I-I can't c-control it," he said, voice shaky with the strain of not leaping on her and savaging her. "P-please, leave."

"I'm not leaving you," she said, putting a stabilising hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but looked into her silver eyes. He didn't see judgement or fear in their depths, only concern. He decided it was safe to take a chance on her.

And so, Mitchell told Scarlet. He told her everything about the supernaturals, how many he had killed and how he had tried so hard to stay clean. To his vast surprise, she was not horrified and repulsed by him. She sat quietly and listened to his story, letting out a huge breath when he was finished. She gently twined her fingers with his and lay her head on his shoulder. It was only the second time he had ever been accepted for what he was.

Scarlet wasn't afraid of him, and it made him feel… human.

"I need you to save me." He confessed, stroking her auburn hair.

"I'll keep you strong. I can help you." She said, kissing him sweetly. It wasn't the only time they had close encounters with the beast inside him, over the next eight months of their relationship, they tried over and over to make love, but the vampire would always make an appearance.

She was fire. Mitchell snorted at the cliché, but there was really no other way to explain her. She was like fire encased in human form. In the eight months they were together, she grew to love Mitchell. In hindsight, she had given herself too wholly to him, loved too deeply and lost herself in him. Mitchell toyed with her emotions, stoking the embers higher. He had obviously forgotten that if you play with fire, you'll likely be burned.

Thanks for reading, guys! Don't forget to review!