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The Ballad of Billy Mitchell; Re-Introducing the Character to SCW.
Topic Started: Mar 6 2010, 02:03 PM (64 Views)
"Bad" Billy Mitchell
The Outlaw
[ *  *  * ]
OOC: Decided to transfer this from the IWC boards, since the Billy Mitchell there is VERY different from the one I've been using here. Instead of a comedic jobber, I made him a very humanized character with a serious event that serves as both the motivation and the trepidation for his wrestling. What scares me, is that I gave him this SL with his daughter just two days before they diagnosed Paul. Hope some of you can enjoy.

For visualization:
Billy - Darryl Worley
Jessie - Ali Larter
Gloria - Queen Latifah
Cody - Kris Kristofferson
==============================================


The rain was picking up again. Not as bad as the last two storms, but enough to overwhelm the large bay window that looked out over the street. It wasn’t much of a view, anyway. The big highlight was the half-acre orange grove just across the street, but anything was better than the alternative. Reaching up to rub at his eyes, he cupped his face in both palms, scrubbing at the unshaven shadow that now darkened his lower jaw. How long had he been here? …A day? …Two? …He was starting to lose count. He had a vague memory of going back home at least once in the past week, but he didn’t stay. He couldn’t. Not right now.

Not when the only thing that had made it ‘home’ was lying in the bed just a few feet away. Judging from the slow, rhythmic sound of her breathing, he figured she was asleep. But, then again, it could have been the respirator. They’d put her on it six hours ago, after her left lung collapsed under the strain. That’s what had kept him here all night. According to the doctors, she was ‘stable’, whatever that meant… But it still didn’t get her home. She was still condemned to that damned bed. Leaning back against the chair’s hard cushion, he finally pushed himself to his feet and struggled to find his balance, as sleep, vertigo, and severe hunger pains converged on him all at once. Reaching out for a hand-hold, he felt his fingers close around one of the bed’s metal railings. Yanking his hand back, he cupped it with the other as if he’d been burned, while glaring at the steel framing. Trailing higher, his eyes followed the multitude of tubes, each one pumping some kind of fluid into her body… Others had the lesser job of draining them back out again.

A gentle buzzing managed to distract him for a moment. Cell phones weren’t allowed in the hospital, but most of the nurses took pity on him these days. Some of them even knew him by name now, recognizing him on sight. Was he here that often? …Had she been here that long? …Thinking back, all he could remember was the crash. The flash of light before the truck hit, the blaring horn, the shattering glass…

And screams… Her scream. The last sound he remembered before blacking out was her calling for him…

Again, the phone hummed in his pocket, forcing him out of the dark memories, and back into the long shadows that seemed to envelop her room. Digging into his pocket, he pulled the phone out and checked the display. It was Jessie. A smile quietly eased onto his lips as he opened the phone and held it to his ear.

“Hey, Sis.”

“How’s she doing?” Jessica Mitchell’s voice was soft and warm, but she couldn’t mask the hint of worry beneath it all. “Any change?”

Billy Mitchell shook his head; glancing back at the girl’s sleeping form, before stepping out into the hallway. “Her lung collapsed… they’ve got her on a respirator… they say she’s ‘stable’, but… I don’t know. I’m not sure I believe ‘em.”

Leaning back against the wall, he held the phone in place and rubbed at his eyes again, this time to keep the tears at the corners from escaping down his cheeks. Looking up, he saw one of the older nurses watching him from the station. Without a word, she simply smiled, and reached for the small placard stating the rules about cell phones, laying it facedown on the counter. He thanked her with a silent nod.

Jessie went silent for a moment, but he could still hear the quiet gasps as she struggled to control her own emotions. After a few seconds, she sniffed, and cleared her throat. “Billy… I’m so sorry.” Another silence passed as she composed herself a little better, her voice taking on that familiar warmth. “Um, listen, Dad’s here… He asked me to call you. He tried the house, but… When you didn’t answer…”

“Only one place I could be, right?” A faint ghost of a smile crossed Mitchell’s face again, as he stepped away from the wall and started down the corridor. He wasn’t really going anywhere, but his legs were stiff from sleeping in the chair all night. “What’s he want? …Did he tell you?”

“Are you kidding? …When does he ever tell us anything?”

This time he managed a small laugh. “Good point. Alright… Well, I wanna’ spend a little more time with her, then I guess I’ll swing by on my way to the house.” In the background, he could hear the familiar candor of the local crowd, along with the twang of an old steel guitar. “You calling from the bar?”

“Yeah, Dad opened it up. Said if he was gonna’ be sittin’ around for an hour, it might as well be a ‘happy’ one.” She had to muffle a snicker at the horrible pun.

Uttering a groan of his own, Mitchell palmed his face and shook his head, feeling the smile melt into a broad grin. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Alright, alright… Tell him I’m on my way. I just wanna’ tell her goodnight.” Turning back towards the room, he noticed the nurse was gone. Probably making her rounds. It was about that time of night, anyway. “I’ll be there in ‘bout an hour, give or take.”

“Ok, I’ll let him know. Make sure you give her a kiss from me, alright?”

“I will. See you in a bit, Jess.”

Closing the phone, he slid it back into his pocket and stepped through the open doorway into the shadowed room. The nurse from the station was standing at the side of the bed checking the respirator, and the rest of the machines that were keeping his daughter alive. As always, the sight of her eight year old body, dwarfed by the bed, made him stagger in place. Everything in him wanted to look down, to focus on the linoleum, his boots, anything but the sight in front of him. He still couldn’t face that one yet.

Everything had happened so fast that night. Most of it was still a blur, but he could remember the headlights, the horn, the glass… Most of all, he remembered her, screaming from the backseat. That was something he would never forget. They echoed on an endless loop, growing louder each and every time…


[align=center]Help! …Daddy![/align]


But he couldn’t help her. He’d been powerless. The wheel was right in front of him, but he hadn’t reacted in time. He’d just watched as the truck smashed into the driver-side door. After that, everything went black. How long ago had that been? …A year? …Two? …Two felt right, but things were still a little clouded.

“Mr. Mitchell?”

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he blinked hard, pulling himself back into the present moment. The nurse had stepped up beside him, a knit of concern forming in her brows as she studied him closely. Her name was Gloria, if he remembered right. Black and a little heavy, but perhaps one of the most loving human beings he’d known in his lifetime… Short as it’d been so far. Slowly, he offered a smile just to reassure her.

“I’m alright, Gloria.” It was a bold-faced lie, and he knew she knew it… But, it had become their routine over the past few months. Honestly, he was the one that needed to hear it out loud, but at least she was willing to let him pretend he wasn’t falling apart. “Just… Still trying to wake up is all.”

The old nurse’s eyes lit with a wealth of understanding. She knew full well he wasn’t talking about sleep. “There’s some nightmares you just don’t wake up from, honey.” Giving his shoulder another squeeze, she glanced back to the little girl. When she looked back, her face grew serious as she led him over to the bay window. “Mr. Mitchell… Listen, I know it’s none of my business, but your ex-wife was here.”

“What?!” Narrowing his eyes, Mitchell felt his muscles tighten as the anger uncurled in his stomach. His knuckles cracked as his right hand coiled into a solid-balled fist, but he stuffed it deep in the pocket of his jeans to restrain it. “The hell was she doing here? …She’s not allowed anywhere near her!”

“I know that, honey, and if I’d been here, I would have kicked her ass right out the window if I’d caught her in here, but I wasn’t on duty, and it was the doctor what let her in.” With each breath, her voice grew softer, quieter, as she held onto his shoulders with both hands now, trying to keep him calm.

Mitchell thought about pulling away, but heaved a deep breath instead. “What did she want?”

Gloria didn’t answer right away… And the look on her face told him he wasn’t going to like what he heard.


[align=center]===============[/align]


That fucking bitch! …Where the hell did she get off thinking she had the right to make that kind of decision by herself?! …Casey wasn’t even her responsibility anymore, she hadn’t been since the divorce!

Was that why? …Was this some kind of sick payback?! …He didn’t know, and he sure as hell wasn’t planning on beating her door down just to ask. The bottom line was it wasn’t happening. She didn’t have the power to do it alone, and neither did her attorney. Still, what if she found a way? …What if? …He couldn’t lose her… He couldn’t. More than that, he wouldn’t! …He’d do whatever it took to keep her alive.

His fingers ached from squeezing the wheel, causing the thin leather to groan in his grip as he turned off the main highway and pulled into the gravel lot of the “Silver Bullet”. As always, there were a few cars scattered around, some he recognized, others were too clean to be local folk. The “Bullet” was the last ‘honest’ bar for the next few cities, so they usually picked up the passers-by on their way through Norco.

Pulling up alongside the building, he killed the engine and just slumped back against the seat, letting his eyes slam shut as the rage coursed through him again. Eventually, the pain in his palms forced him to break his death-hold on the wheel. Balling a fist, he slammed it into the dashboard. Once, twice… Then once more for good measure. After a few minutes, the flames in his blood subsided. Opening his eyes, he noticed a small crowd in the parking lot. A few of them were watching him, but no-one looked familiar.

Reaching up to cup his face, he scrubbed at the stubble on his cheeks, before sweeping his fingers up through the unkempt mess that used to be his hair. He did not need to be losing control right now. Not if Gloria was right about Elizabeth. That was probably part of her plan. Getting him to lose it, like he used to.

Pushing the door open, he stepped out into the stale, warm air of the Inland Empire. There was a stillness to the night that made the humidity even thicker than usual. By the time he’d circled around to the front of the building and started up the deck-steps, he could already feel the sweat beading on the back of his neck. Still, he loved the Empire, and couldn’t imagine himself anywhere else. Reaching for the pistol-shaped handle on the front door, he pulled it open and stepped inside. As soon as he felt the warm blast of air from inside, carrying the sounds of a steel guitar and the excited shouts of a crowded dance floor, he couldn’t help but feel better. Easing through the doorway, he stuck to the wall for a minute, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden brightness. Compared to most of the bars in the Empire, the “Bullet” wasn’t the most elaborate setup. It had a live band on the weekends, a big enough dance floor and a couple pool tables in the back. Last year, his father had set up a big screen TV in the corner opposite the bar and used it to host a Super Bowl party. According to Jessie, they’d been packed in wall to wall.

He’d been invited, but wound up watching the game from Casey’s hospital room, instead. One of the nurses said she’d seen her eyes twitch, and he spent the whole day at her side, hoping they’d do it again.

They never did.

“Billy!”

Jessie’s voice cut through the flooding memories, and as he pulled himself out of the daze, he spotted her behind the counter, waving a dish towel over her head. Offering a sheepish smirk, he lifted his hand in response and stepped down onto the main floor, weaving his way through the modest crowd until he could find an open spot down near the end of the bar. Throwing the towel over her shoulder, Jessie excused herself from a couple of the drinkers and trotted down to throw her arms around him, squeezing.

“’bout time you show up! …Dad’s been chewin’ me a new ass for the past twenty minutes, and I happen to like the one I got now just fine.” Releasing him, she planted a quick kiss to his cheek and folded her arms on the countertop. Sobering, her eyes dimmed a little as she studied him closely. “What is it?”

“I need a drink first, Jess. Anything cold, I don’t care what.” Easing back out of the hug, he dropped onto a stool and braced his elbows, folding his hands beneath his chin. “And what the hell’s got Dad all worked up, anyway?”

“I told you, he won’t tell me.” Moving over to the mini-fridge beneath the counter, she pulled out a bottle of Corona and one of the thinner lime slices, dropping it down through the neck. “All he said was that he wanted you down here ASAP. Won’t tell me why, and won’t stop asking when you’ll get here.” Laying a napkin down, she slid him the beer and wiped her hand off on the towel. “Ok, now spill.”

Grabbing the bottle, Mitchell tilted it and pulled a long, hard draw before thumping it back down on the napkin. Waiting for the cold alcohol to pool in his belly, he uttered a stuttered exhale and shook his head. “Elizabeth was at the hospital yesterday, with a lawyer. She’s trying to cancel Casey's life support.”

“She’s…” Realization exploded in Jessie’s eyes seconds before her jaw dropped. “What?!”

Nodding his head, he stared at the amber-colored liquid in the bottle. “Said she’s tired of paying for a brat she never even wanted. Doesn’t wanna’ keep payin’ a bunch of machines to breathe for a dead body.” The last few words brought the flames roaring up from his gut, causing his fingers to clench around the fragile glass, almost cracking it. “Luckily, the doctor refused, but Gloria said she can still have it done.”

“How?!” Shaking her head, Jessie planted her hands to the counter, her hazel eyes hardening. “If you have sole custody; that means she has no say in anything about Casey… How the hell can she do this?!” Reaching across the bar, she snatched the beer and downed a couple gulps of her own.

Letting her have the drink, Mitchell just rolled a tired shoulder. “She claims that Casey’s already dead, and the support’s only making it look like she’s alive. Kill the support, and she won’t last the month; or something like that.” Shaking his head, he palmed his lower jaw, staring off at nothing. “Something about prolonging her suffering… That I’m making her stay when her body wants to go.”

“What the hell does she know about what Casey wants?! …She never even paid attention to her BEFORE the crash!”

“What’s all the hollering about?”

Giving a quiet exhale, Mitchell glanced back over his shoulder just as their father strode up to the counter. As wide as he was tall, Cody Mitchell wrapped one arm around each of his children, crushing them against his barrel-chest with a suffocating bear-hug. Petting one hand down the length of Jessie’s hair, he clapped his other hand around the back of Billy’s neck and gave him a playful shake. Reaching for the bottle of Corona, he took a sip of his own as he claimed the stool next to Billy’s with a focused look.

“Well? …Someone gonna’ answer?”

Backing away, Jessie picked up the now emptied beer bottle and tossed it away. “I’ll let Billy tell ya’, Dad… I need to go talk to Lucas or something before I strangle someone.” Leaning over to give her father a quick hug back, she started down to the other end of the counter, leaving the two men alone.

“Uh-huh…” Watching her leave, Cody shifted his steel-gray eyes to his son, his voice losing the laughter as it turned rock-hard. “I’m guessin’ we should find ourselves someplace quit to talk, then.”

Slipping off the stool, Cody gave him a silent look before cutting a small path through the crowded dance floor, heading towards an unmarked door tucked back behind the stage. Lingering behind, Mitchell glanced over to Jessie, but she was still talking to some of the other patrons, one of whom looked like he was scoring a point or two, judging by the cock-eyed looks she was shooting him. Peering back through the crowd, he saw his father still standing in front of the door, arms folded across his chest and a firm look in his eyes. Easing off his own seat, he dropped a five for the drink they’d all shared and moved to follow.


[align=center]===============[/align]


"So you gonna' tell me what was so important?"

Standing on the back deck of the “Bullet”, Mitchell folded his arms and leaned against the wooden railing, staring out over the dusty Corona hills. A breeze had picked up; it cut easily through the stale heat, but the humidity was still as thick as ever. Overhead, the dark thunderheads were moving in again, threatening another deluge over the next few days. Beside him, Cody stood with his back to the view, leaning his hip into the rail as he folded his arms across his chest and watched through the bar window.

“Soon as you tell me what you said that got Jessie so riled up.” Turning his head just enough to catch his son out the corner of his eye, Cody hiked a single brow. “Sounded like I caught Lizzie’s name near the end of it.”

“You did.” Mitchell didn’t bother to return the look. Instead, he kept his attention on the city lights scattered along the horizon. “She told the doctors to cut Casey’s support. Hired a lawyer to prove she shouldn’t have to pay into it anymore.” Shaking his head, he couldn’t stop himself from scoffing in sheer disgust. “Sure she doesn’t… She’s only the reason this happened! …Damn right she’d better keep paying for it! …She almost killed my daughter; I sure as hell don’t plan on letting her finish the job!”

Saying nothing at first, Cody just watched him, before giving a small nod. “Can she do it?”

Forcing the anger out in a hard growl, Mitchell lifted his eyes back up to the clouds. “One of the nurses, Gloria, said it was possible. She’d seen people do it before.” One of the clouds was rolling across the moon, casting an ominous shadow over the already darkened landscape. “If she can prove Casey won’t come out of it, with or without the machines, she can get a judge to order them to take her off 'em.”

“Will she?”

Taken aback, Mitchell shot his father a hard stare. “How can you even ask me that?!”

“Don’t look at me that way, boy, and you damn well don’t gimme’ that kind of tone.” Cody’s voice turned stone-cold as he shifted to face his son head-on. “I know you heard me just fine, so I want to hear you answer me… Is she going to come out of it or not?”

Mitchell tried to meet those hard gray eyes, but lowered his head instead. Turning to lean against the rail again, he stared out into the lights. Truth be told, he’d wondered that same thing, more than once since the accident. It was two years ago, but Casey still wasn’t showing any signs of recovery. Maybe Elizabeth was right. Was he just too afraid to let go? …Was that why he fought so hard to keep his hold on her? …No. Damn it, no! …Of course she’d pull out of it! …Why was he even letting himself think like this?!

“Yes.” Despite his conviction, even Mitchell could barely hear the word leaving his lips.

Cody just watched him for a long moment, then another. After what seemed like forever, he just gave another silent nod, and turned to lean on the railing too, matching his son’s posture. “Good.” Losing the cold tone from before, his voice melted to a more neutral, but still firm tone. “Then that’s one problem solved, and one to go.” He waited a second, and then turned to look at Mitchell. “I want you out of that hospital room, Billy. Just because she can’t leave doesn’t mean you need to lock yourself up, too.”

“What’re you talking about, Dad?”

“Exactly what I just said. I don’t want you living in that damned room anymore. When’s the last time you went home, Billy? …When’s the last time you slept in your own bed? …When’s the last time you ate something that didn’t come out of a cafeteria?” Now Cody was watching him in full, his eyes locked on his son’s. “You keep going the way you are, and you’ll be dead long before that little girl wakes up. Then what? …She won’t have a mother OR her father… And she sure as hell won’t be any good left with me.”

“Spit it out, Dad.” Closing his eyes, Mitchell let his fingers coil into those solid fists, tucking them beneath his chest and pinning them to the railing as he lowered his head. “What do you want, huh? …Want me to forget she’s there? …Act like it doesn’t matter? …I think Elizabeth’s doing a good enough job of ignoring her for both of us, don’t you?” Each word was bitten through clenched teeth.

An upward swing brought Cody’s hand crashing off the back of his son’s head. “Watch your attitude! …You think you’re the only one dying over this?! …That’s my granddaughter in that bed! …That’s your mother’s granddaughter… So don’t you think, for one little second, that you’re the only one suffering right now, do you understand me?!” Raising his eyes to the stars, the old cowboy uttered a few choice words under his breath, before turning to lean on the railing again. “As for what I want, I’ll tell you. I want you back on the road again. If nothing else, it’ll get you out of that damn hospital once in awhile.”

Dazed from the impact of both the slap, as well as the verbal barrage, Mitchell was quiet for a long time… His gaze distant, focused on nothing as he just let it all sink in. At the mention of him being ‘back on the road’, he turned and gave his father a skewed look. “Doing what?”

Cody answered without looking. “I got a call from the Independent Cartel last week. They’re looking to restock their bench with some fresh talent, and they asked if I’d thought about resuming my career.”

“The Cartel?” It took a minute, but eventually Mitchell was able to remember where he knew the name from. Shaking his head, he just gave his father a questioning look. “Wrestling? ...Dad, you can’t be serious. You said you hated it!”

“I did. That’s why I said ‘No’.”

“Then I don’t get it… Why—“

“I gave ‘em your name.”

“You what?!” Pushing back from the railing, Mitchell just gaped at his father like he’d pulled a gun on him. “Why?! …There’s no way in hell I’m getting back into that, Dad, and you damn well know it!”

“Yes, you are.” Standing as well, Cody turned to face him, but without the hard stare. “You can’t stand there and tell me you didn’t love being in that ring, Billy. Besides, I’m not asking your permission, I’m telling you as your father, you’re accepting this offer.” Giving a quiet sigh, he stepped in closer and gripped his son’s shoulder. “Listen to me… I’m serious about this. I know you want to be with Casey as much as you can, but locking yourself away isn’t going to make it stop hurting. You think I don’t know why you do it? …I’m your father! …I don’t care how old you get; you’ll always be an open book to me, Billy.”

Stepping back, Mitchell let his father’s hand slide off his shoulder, putting a couple feet of distance between them as he just stared, lost somewhere between shock, disbelief, and worst of all… Hope. Where the hell had that last one come from?! …Why was he actually letting himself feel ANYTHING about this?!

Okay, so maybe he missed it… Parts of it… But he had more important things to worry about now! …His daughter was dying! …What gave him the right to try and make himself feel better when she spent every second of every day fighting for her damned life?! …Nothing. That’s what. Absolutely nothing at all. Taking another step back, he felt the small impact as he bumped into the wall. From inside, he could hear the cheers as the band kicked into another set. It almost reminded him of the fans… The screams that echoed through the arena whenever he stepped through the curtains. No, not screams …Just one... One scream… Casey’s scream…

Bringing his hands up, he laced his fingers at the back of his head, squeezing his eyes shut and dropping his head… Why was he even considering this!? …He wasn’t! …Or was he? …Damn it, why the fuck was he still thinking about this?! …Hadn’t he already said ‘No’? …That should be the end of it! …But …It wasn’t …

“… Damn it.”

“Billy…” Staying where he was at the rail, Cody kept his voice calm and quiet. “The offer is for one match. I don’t care if you’re only gone for a week… Please… Just give yourself a rest. Let some of the wounds heal. If you don’t want to go back, you can throw the match, and I won’t hold it against you… But at least go. Casey will still be here when you come back… And you can tell her all about it! …She used to love watching you, remember?” The last few words came almost tenderly.

Dropping his hands to the railing, Mitchell let his fingers squeeze the smooth wooden pole, listening to it groan and creak in his grip. Letting his head fall, he rocked a moment on the balls of his feet, playing back through everything… The lights of the arena, and the headlights of the truck… The roar of the crowd, and the deafening blare of the horn… The screaming fans… And Casey screaming for him…

He barely heard the whisper when it finally escaped him.

“… Okay.”
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