#mitchell ripley

The guy you’re with, he’s handsy. He’s constantly leaning in close, touching you. Mitch can tell you don’t like it by your body language. You’re angled away from him, edged on the furthest part of your seat.

You’ll stay for one drink he summarises before you make your excuses.

It’s when you return from the bathroom that he realises that something’s wrong, there’s an unsteadiness to your motions, an odd vacant smile on your features. If he didn’t know any better he’s say you were high but he knows that’s not your style.

You have very strong opinions on drugs especially after seeing the damage they do on a daily basis, you wouldn’t put yourself or your job at risk. He’s already on his feet and heading towards you before your date can step in.

“Marley.” He says as he loops his arm around your waist and you tuck yourself against him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Mitch,” You says excitedly, your fingertips grazing across his cheekbone. “I didn’t know you were here.”

He flinches at your touch because he doesn’t expect it. He’s reserved with his affection, he doesn’t like people in his personal space and you have always respected that. The fact you’re touching him so intimately is an side effect of whatever drug has been slipped into your drink. GHB, he suspects.

There had been a notice from CPD just this week for medical staff to be aware that they’d seen a spike of GHB related sexual assaults. There had been six in as many weeks, always occurring on a Friday or Saturday night. He looks to the bar but your date has disappeared, probably thrown off by Mitch’s appearance.

He knows ambulance times are slammed at this point in the evening so he hails a cab and takes you to Med. You take two steps the E.D and pass out, he barely manages to catch you in time. He ends up carrying you into Bay 2, your head tucked against his chest as he describes his suspicions to Maggie and Connor Rhodes. He waits outside while they examine you, taking your phone to call your parents as Doris contacts CPD.

He's still by your bedside, researching the long term effects of GHB on the nervous system when you finally wake up hours later completely disorientated.

“You’re safe.” Is the first thing he tells you as he squeezes your hand. “Your mom’s just gone to the café to grab some coffee, she’ll be right back.”

“I don’t understand what happened.” You say as you squeeze his hand back.

He tries to explain it as gently as he can but he can see you’re getting upset as the reality of the situation dawns on you. He slips out when your mom returns so that he can give his statement to CPD.

It’s as he’s getting ready to leave that your mom catches up with him. Its four in the morning and he’s dead on his feet. Your sleeping peacefully now, under the watchful eyes of medical staff and your mother.

“I want to thank you.” She says sincerely as she clasps both of his hands in hers. “Marley’s the only girl in our family and the baby, we’re all very protective of her. I dread to think what would have happened if you weren’t there.”

She hugs him then and Mitch stiffens because he doesn’t know what to do. He’s never experienced a mother’s affection before, he doesn’t expect it from this woman. He understands in that moment where your compassion comes from, your empathy. This is what real family looks like, the people who are supposed to love you, who care for you.

“Will you tell her I’ll check back in tomorrow?” He says softly as he draws away.

“Of course.” She says with a smile that looks like yours and Mitch tucks his hands into his pockets as he heads towards the exit.

It’s during his shift the following day that the gift basket is delivered. You’ve been discharged into your parents care by then and apparently your mom is driving you crazy. It’s filled with all the healthy snacks he loves as well as a few of his favourite IPAs.

Thank you for taking care of our girl, the card reads.

Mitch snaps a picture of it before he sends it to you with a message that says ‘tell your mom I said thanks’.

You’re part of the family now, you text back and Mitch pauses for a moment as a warm feeling blossoms in this chest.

If there’s any family he’d like to be a part of, it’s certainly yours.

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There’s radio silence from the both of you. He sees you in passing at the hospital but you don’t speak to one another, he can’t even look at you. He knows there’s rumours flying, but Mitch can’t even bring himself to care. Nothing touches him anymore.

He’s filling in one of his patient charts when LJ appears alongside him, completing the intake paperwork from an accident that occurred with a tractor. Mitch has managed to avoid the other man up until this point, he simply pretends he doesn’t exist.

“I’m sorry to hear about you and Marley.” LJ says and Mitch just shrugs his shoulders.

“Why?” He says despondently. “You can have her all to yourself now, I’m not in the way anymore.”

“I don’t understand...” LJ says as Mitch stares down at the tablet in his hand, his knuckles turning while as he grips it.

“I know about the two of you.” Mitch says tilting his head towards LJ, meeting the other man’s gaze. “That it started in St Clair, continued when you got back home.”

“What? That’s not…”

Mitch shakes his head, cutting the other man off.

“I don’t care.” He tells him because honestly he doesn’t want to hear the denials and all that shit, he’s too exhausted, too emotionally wrung out. “The two of you can do what the fuck you want. I didn’t fucking care.”

He walks away then, the tablet cradled to his chest because that ache he’s been trying to push away, it’s back with a vengeance. He heads to his locker and he pops another pill, and then another. He’s lost track of how many he’s up to, all he knows is he’ll take as many as he can to drown out the misery that keeps rising up inside of him.  

He spends the next few hours in a dissociative state, people talk to him and he responds but it’s all automatic. He doesn’t recall these conversations, he only has an awareness of them.

He’s refilling his water bottle when the seizure happens. There’s a raising sensation in his stomach, his arms start to tingle and he’s rocked by a sudden wave of nausea. The water bottle slips from his hand, clattering to the floor as the lightheadness hits and his entire world slips sideways. He smashes  his head on the way down, it bounces off the coffee table, knocking him out as his body hits the tiles.

It's ten minutes later that Hannah Asher finds him, sprawled out, broken, bleeding.

You’re the first person she calls.

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He’s thrusting deep inside you, his mouth on your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point when he feels your body arch and your pussy clench around his cock.

“You like that?” He whispers into your ear. “The idea of me marking you up?”

“Yes.” You murmur as he buries his face into the curve of your throat. “I need it a little rough tonight Mitch, I need…”

He bites you then, his teeth sinking into your shoulder and the sound you make as you grip his dick…

He almost loses it.

“Tell me what else you like.” He requests and it gets filthy after that because you’re such a dirty girl, and Mitch, he had no fucking clue. You’ve always been straight laced, playing things by the book, he had no idea he had a temptress on his hands.

He’s ruined in the aftermath, breathless, tangled up in your sheets, his back scratched up. You aren’t much better, your skin is flushed, and you’re covered in his love marks, neck, shoulders, breasts. The essence of him is everywhere blossoming across your flesh and Mitch loves it the sight of it.

“And here’s me thinking you were a good girl.” He smiles as his mouth captures yours again, his thumb chasing over the apple of your cheek.

“No.” You whisper as your fingers thread through his hair. “I just didn’t know how to ask.”

“You don’t have to be shy with me.” He tells you, his nose trailing along yours. “I’d give you anything Marley, anything you damn well want.”

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His eyebrows furrow into a frown before he winces, his fingertips brushing over the stitches holding the gash in his forehead together.

“Seven stitches.” You tell him as he runs his fingers over it. “You hit your head on the way down.”

The coffee table, he summarises before he returns his attention back to you.

You look like hell, dark circles under your eyes, waxy skin. He can tell you’ve lost weight, it’s in the way you don’t quite fill out your clothes the way you used to. He stares down at your hand, so small, so dainty in his own and he thinks maybe he got this wrong, maybe it wasn’t about L.J.

“Marley,” He says softly, his thumb chasing over your wedding ring. “I don’t understand how we got here. One minute we were happy and the next…”

He shakes his head as he struggles to find the words.

“What was the breaking point?” He says finally, his eyes stinging. “What was it that I did that made you not love me?”

“Mitch…” You begin and he knows that tone, it’s the one you use to placate him but Mitch he isn’t looking for comfort, he just wants answers.

“I just need to know what I did wrong.” He whispers.

“It wasn’t you.” You find yourself telling him. “Something happened to me after you left St Clair, something I didn’t know how to deal with…”

His grip on your hand tightens and you pause because the truth is you don’t know how to vocalise the next part because the moment you do it changes things, for you and your marriage. However you can’t keep going on like this, you owe it to Mitch to be honest, to help him understand that it isn’t him that’s the problem, it’s you.

“A couple of days after you left I had miscarriage.” You say quietly, your gaze fixed on the paper hospital hand looped around his wrist. “L.J was there, he realised what was happening, took me to the hospital, called my mom…”

“You were pregnant?” He asks, his voice rough with emotion and finally your gaze raises to meet his.

There’s such agony in those eyes of yours, so much distress. You’ve been carrying this thing around with you for weeks, keeping it all locked it up inside and it’s only now that Mitch realises that you were grieving, that’s what the distance has been about, the pulling away from him. You’ve been trying to cope with this all alone and Mitch can’t fathom why.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks you. “I could have helped you. I could have…”

“You don’t want kids Mitch.” You say quietly, pulling your hand away and tucking it into your jacket. “And it wasn’t until it happened that I realised I do.”

“Marley.” He says, that familiar ache starting to blossom in his chest. “You know my history…”

Mitch, he would give you absolutely anything in the world except for one thing and it’s the one thing you’re asking him for. He won’t bring a child into this fucked up place, not with him as a father. He won’t do that to you, he won’t do that to his baby.

“I do…” You tell him, your eyes lined with tears. “And I thought I was ok with that.”

“But now you’re not.” He says, his mouth setting into a grim line because this right here, right now, it feels like a betrayal.

The two of you have talked about kids, he wanted to have that discussion before you got married because he wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into. You’d told him you didn’t need babies, that your love for him was unconditional and Mitch, he had been stupid enough to believe you.

“I want a family with you Mitch.” You tell him, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I want to raise children together, to have a house filled with laughter, with love. Do you think… Do you think that maybe that’s something we could have?”

“No Marley," He says sadly. "It’s not.”

His gaze strays down at the silver band on his finger. This is the end, he can feel it because Mitch isn’t enough, he’ll will never be enough, for you or anybody else.

“You should leave.” He tells you and you both know he’s not talking about this hospital bay. “I can’t give you what you want so you need to do what's best for you and leave.”

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