darker_london | The Fight (Peter, Thomas)

Peter had had a very good few days. He had been lucid and feeling a little better, and then his family had come and spent the day with him. And then Aly had spent the night with him. Or at least, that had been the plan. She had certainly spent a great deal of time with him in bed, though not a lot of sleeping had happened. A lot of other things had, though all in a manner that would keep Aly safe. And when Aly had finally turned the lights back on, that was when Peter had noticed the fading bruises on her arms. They were almost gone, but he noticed anyway. And when he had asked her about it, she had simply drawn her shirt back over her head and refused to tell him. Having been asked too many times, she had retreated to Caleb's room and Peter had rushed to ask his best friend Thomas. If they were keeping the truth from him...that someone had harmed Aly...he was not going to be happy.

Thomas had approached the Kemp household rather like a man would approach the gallows. He had to tell his best friend that he was the one that had bruised his wife, though he had done so while suffering a fit caused by his brain tumour. He hadn't known what he was doing, nor did he remember. And Thomas had to fill in the gaps. Peter was going to hate himself. Guilt was something he suffered from, terribly. But he had asked. Thomas couldn't refuse Peter. Not even when the truth would hurt.

Peter let Thomas in before he even knocked and he led Thomas to the living room. "Is...there somewhere less exposed?" Thomas asked, glancing around. The room was empty, but open.

"Lauren and Thomas are asleep in the nursery." Peter explained, as the nursery joined on to his bedroom. "We can't talk in my room. Everyone else is upstairs or downstairs. This is the best place."

"At least...let's go in there." Thomas led Peter to the ornamental dining room that was hardly ever used, and he shut the double doors behind them. "Peter..." Thomas turned to face his best friend, his heart already feeling fit to break.

Peter noticed how tired Thomas looked. He knew Thomas was waiting for the birth of Jax and Charon's baby. That he was here at all was greatly appreciated, but Peter was too frantic to acknowledge Thomas' kindness at the moment. "Who hurt my wife, Thomas? Was...was it David?!"

"What?! Peter, no!" Thomas shook his head firmly. "Of course it wasn't David! Why would you...you know what. Don't answer that. Peter...I don't want to tell you." Thomas' face was full of regret and sadness.

"Thomas, you have to. I can't not know. I have to know she's okay!" Peter reached for Thomas' arms and Thomas let his eyes fall closed, thinking that that was how it had all started....

"Peter...I...look, you were having a fit, okay?"

Peter dropped his hands from Thomas' arms and they hung uselessly at his sides, trembling. "What?" He felt his heart seize up, but Thomas couldn't possibly be getting at what Peter thought he was getting at. "Thomas...what?!"

"You...you didn't know what you were doing." Thomas sighed and he licked his lips to stall before he had to keep talking. "Peter, you didn't mean to do it."

Peter took a step backwards. "No." He whispered, his tone horrified. "No, I didn't do that to her."

Tears started to form in Thomas' eyes because it was heart-wrenching seeing Peter so absolutely distraught. "Peter please...you were having a fit and it just happened! Aly doesn't blame you. It was an accident, please don't-"

"Is...is this why she's staying at David's?!" Peter hissed, traumatised. "Because I hurt her!?"

"Oh, Jesus." Thomas muttered and he let his shoulders droop. "It was...it was just-"

"And Deirdre's here...watching me. Making sure I don't do anything else terrible?! Fuck! I...Thomas I told her I would never hurt her and I put marks on her arms!"

"Peter, you didn't mean to!" Thomas shouted through his tears. "You have cancer, Peter! You aren't to blame for this!"

"But I get my family taken away from me, regardless!" Peter yelled back, now crying himself. Words started to spill frantically from his mouth, punctuated by staccatoed breaths, his voice thick from crying. "I was getting better! I was getting better, Thomas! I was betting better and then I had that seizure in the bath and it ruined everything! I almost drowned and it fucked up my head and now I can't stop! I can't stop getting worse! I couldn't remember Jacinta's name today! For twenty minutes I kept avoiding calling her anything until it came to me and then she said I was supposed to call her Mum anyway. I forgot that! Thomas, I'm losing it! I'm...I'm losing..."

"No..." Thomas shook his head, his face crumpling, ugly from crying. "No, Peter." But he had known it too. For a long time. Thomas drew in a deep raggedy breath. "You're not losing anything."

"My wife took my kids away! I'm not safe anymore! I have a demon watchdog, Thomas, and even she's going to Dublin after tomorrow and I'll be alone! I'll just be alone with Tasha, and fuck, what if I...what if I hurt her?!" Peter covered his face in his hands and he backed towards the doors. "Thomas, I can't live like this! I can't live like this!"

"Peter, please, please don't say that!" Thomas sniffed deeply, though his face was still wet with tears and snot and he tried to wipe it away with a shaking hand.

"I'm dying! You know it. I know it. Aly knows it. She's bringing my kids around so they can see me before I go, but they won't stay. I'm going to die alone, a danger to my family...a danger to myself. Thomas, I don't want to live. It hurts too much."

"You have to." Thomas whispered, barely audible. "Peter. You have to live. Otherwise, hope dies too. There's still hope, Peter!"

"Hope for whom? For me?" Peter's breath was shallow. He was tired. Too tired to be expending energy like this. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep for a week. Or forever. It sounded so blissful. Death. He had lost everything anyway. His health was declining, and in that way, his family had left him. Without his family, he was nothing. Peter Kemp was nothing. "There's no hope for me."

"Bullshit!" Thomas hissed in anger. "Peter, so help me god, if you utter one more word of your defeatist crap I'm going to commit you to your own hospital my fucking self! No one gives up on Peter Kemp! Do you hear me!? Not even Peter Kemp." Thomas took a step forward and he wiped his face clean, though the tears were still coming. "You made a mistake, and Aly was just keeping your family safe. She didn't want you to do anything you didn't mean while you were having an attack. She wasn't just protecting them, Peter, she was protecting you. She stayed here tonight. She could tell you were yourself tonight. If you're yourself tomorrow, she'll be here tomorrow! She made a damn hard decision and she hated herself for it, but goddammit, Peter you haven't lost your family. They love you as much as ever. And you're just going to give up on them? Once you told me you would fight anything for them. That you would fight for them as long as you still had breath in your body. Well guess fucking what?! You're still fucking breathing, Peter. Don't you dare stop fighting. Peter would never lie to me." Thomas sniffed and he wiped frantically at his tears. "Don't lie to me..."

Peter closed his eyes and he let out a broken sob. He fell to his knees, his face covered in his hands. "It's so hard..."

"I know." Thomas knelt down too, and then he crawled forward so he could take Peter in his strong arms. "I know, Peter. But you can't stop fighting. Otherwise they'll think they weren't worth it."

Peter let out a wail of grief, and his hands balled into fists, clutching Thomas' clothes. "I'll fight. I'll fight, Thomas." Peter promised, so distraught he could barely form words. "I think I'm going to lose anyway."

At that, Thomas buried his face in his best friend's hair and he held Peter as tightly as he ever had. Hope was fading. Peter was fading. But Thomas was going to hold on until he couldn't anymore, and he was more than grateful that it looked like Peter would too.

They held each other, and cried for hours, and it wasn't until dawn was breaking when Peter finally ventured upstairs, weak and exhausted, his face red and swollen from his expression of grief. He met Aly in the hallway, tiptoeing out of Caleb's room. Their eyes met and in a second, they understood. Aly knew that Peter knew who had caused the bruises and Peter knew she knew. Neither of them needed to say a word. Peter's face schooled itself into utmost regret and Aly stepped forward to wrap her arms around him.

"I love you, Peter." She whispered, loud enough for him to hear.

Peter didn't respond back the way he normally would. He leaned heavily against the wall and he held her, there in the dawn light. Then he whispered, "I'll fight for you."

Aly closed her eyes, and she let out a soft exhalation of breath in relief. "And I for you."