femgenficathon

Title: Life and Death
Author:

roh_wyn
Fandom: Being Human
Rating: PG
Warnings: None (some discussion of death, but nothing explicit)
Prompt: 9) "Life is full of surprises, I try to capture these precious moments with wide eyes." -- Sofonisba Anguissola (c. 1532-1625), Italian painter of the Renaissance.
Summary: Annie, a ghost, reflects on the meaning of life and death.
Author's Notes: I really struggled with this, for various reasons, including having almost no time. But the prompt spoke to me, and I could not resist writing this. It was impossible to find a beta on LJ at such short notice, so many thanks to my friend "L" for proof-reading this for me.

Life. I'm not sure I'm allowed to use that word, considering I'm dead.

The whole dead thing is a bit naff, really. I feel like I deserved a better death, one with a bit more flair. Instead, I fell down the stairs and well, that was pretty much it.

She walks among them, the people whose lives have touched her own so intimately. There's her father, grief making him even more grave than usual, and there's her brother, looking just a bit surprised. Friends mill about the room, whispering and trying their best not to smile at each other, even just by accident. And Owen. She can't even look at him without wanting to break down and cry. He looks miserable, the poor thing.

It is odd, because she can see them all, hear them talking about her as if she isn't in the same room with them! She tries to touch them, to call out to them, but nobody seems to notice, not even when she screams. That's when it finally hit her. She's dead.

It's weird being a ghost. Some people can see me now, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I mean, I'm dead, and how can people see me if I'm not really there? I talked to Mitchell about it, but he can't explain it either. He thinks it's because I'm becoming more solid—more person and less ghost—all the time. I think maybe, if people use their imagination a little, they could see me. They just need to try harder.

Being dead, but somehow still alive—even if not exactly—is a strange experience in itself. There are emotions, stray pangs left over from when she was still alive, but nothing tangible. She can make a cup of tea, but she can't drink it. She showers every day, but she's never dirty, and she can't feel the water on her skin anyway. She can hold a hand, but she can't really feel it, the warmth of skin, or the gentle squeeze of fingers between her own. There's no hunger, no pain. But there is want, so much want…and almost all of it is just to feel again.

It's totally different for George and Mitchell. I envy them sometimes. They're both alive, and they can do all those things I'll never do again. Of course, Mitchell isn't really alive, but he's not really dead in a way that matters. People can see him, talk to him, flirt with him. I miss that…just being able to walk out of the house and chat to the neighbours the way he does.

George? Well, George isn't dead at all, and he can feel everything. George is scared, not just for himself, but for everyone. He's trapped by life, the way I'm trapped by death. But George is falling in love, and that's something you can't really do when you're dead. I've been in love—I think I still am—but nobody falls for a ghost.

She doesn't think this often, but sometimes—when she has nothing else to think about—she thinks maybe they envy her too. It's easy for her to be human, because she's never been anything else, alive or dead. But Mitchell and George are different, and that's why they want to be human—ordinary, unremarkable, safe—so desperately.

Mitchell's life is nothing but a series of desires, after all. He needs blood, he needs human contact to be what he is. So he spends a lifetime denying those desires, so he can stop being that thing that he is, so he can be human instead.

George has desires too. He likes Nina, and he wants her to like him. But mostly, he just wants to disappear. If he's gone, then the monster he becomes once a month is gone too. He's trying to vanish into the anonymity of being human, where one hospital porter is exactly like the next one, every day of the month.

Gilbert is sort of cool. I like him. And for once, it's nice to talk to someone who understands exactly what I'm on about. I wasn't quite ready to see my own headstone. It's like a neon sign about being dead. But I needed to see it, and Gilbert knew that. I don't think it's something I could have done with Mitchell, as much as he wants to help me, and I know George wouldn't get it at all.

But Gilbert is strange, and I never know what will come out of his mouth next. I want him to tell me more about what he's been through as a ghost, but he seems happy to just hang around. It's like he's waiting for something, but he's given up wanting that something, whatever it is.

She watches as he lights one cigarette after another, the curls of smoke rising and fading. She thinks smoking is pointless when you can't feel what you're holding, when you're acting out of habit instead of need. The drag of smoke into your lungs is just an illusion, and the puff that leaves your lips later is a mirage.

My door's here. Gilbert didn't really explain it to me when his own came, but he didn't need to. I get it. The door is the end that every ghost waits for, a chance to be free of all the things that keep you tied to your life. But it's more than that. It's an escape from feeling, from any sort of want. The door is death.

It's weird that my door is so pretty. Gilbert's was so simple, just something to open and walk through. Mine has brass doorknobs and one of those slots for the post. It's calling to me, and really, I'm so tempted. It would be a relief to be done with this world, to not care, to not crave.

She can't make herself turn that knob and walk through that door. She knows the door is her once chance to escape, but when it comes down to it, death—real, final death—is too high a price to pay. She's not ready yet. So what if she can't feel? She can see, she can hear, and life, whatever it is, still has surprises in store for her.