darker_london | Lighthouse (Peter, Abby)

It wasn't often that Peter Kemp got seriously introspective. Mostly because every time he did, he was terrified at the things he discovered about himself. Like the fact that sometimes helping people was just self-medication making up for the lack of alcohol he mostly wouldn't let himself consume. Or the fact that if he failed in making someone happy, he considered himself a worthless human being. But if anyone he loved tried to tell him they felt worthless, he would ramble on for hours and hours about how fantastic they were, thus proving they were not worthless. He couldn't do that for himself. It used to be Thomas and Aly who kept him grounded. Kept him sane so he could focus on everyone else because they could handle focusing on him. But they weren't around anymore. He had to do the work now himself.

Well, not quite. Thank everything for Abby.

Peter hadn't even gotten a chance to knock on the door because she answered it as he shuffled up the steps. That was the way Thomas nearly always greeted Peter, as his Peter-radar seemed second to none. And even that caused a terrible pang in his heart, but he smiled through it anyway. "Psychic," he mumbled to Abby, by way of a greeting.

"Nah. You were ambling." Abby pointed to the footpath and then she reached out to draw him into the house. "Come with me, Darling."

Peter let himself be pulled into the comforting home that had once been the domicile of his wonderful Thomas. He had spent the day here anyway, recording for Spectre's album. Why not now come to spill his soul? It wasn't like his life made any current sense anyway. Abby led Peter up to her room and she went to sit at her desk, swiveling her chair around so it was facing Peter. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Peter pulled the long sleeves of his sweater over his hands and he looked at her pitifully. "I don't even know."

Abby's expression was nothing less than loving, which buoyed Peter's heart somewhat. He sat then, and when she said nothing, he started again. "Edward told me Aly had spoken to David, so I asked what she had said. You know...I asked if she had said anything about me, because I was encouraged, but...she told him she doesn't want to get my hopes up. That when she gets out of there, things will change. And I...Abby, I miss my wife." Peter was perilously close to losing his grip on his emotions and all at once, he wondered if that might not be for the best... So far, he had only lost his grip once, and he had numbed that with the help of his old friend, Jack Daniels.

"Peter, Aly is hardly in a place right now where she can make decisions like that. Even if she thinks she can. You can't accept anything she says at face value right now-"

Peter groaned, interrupting Abby's attempt at making him feel better. "But that just means I cheated on my wife while she's in a mental institution! Which doesn't exactly make me a knight in white satin." Peter whined. "Abby...please..."

"That's not what I'm saying, Peter!" Abby reached for his hands then, hoping to offer him some sort of comfort. "She told you she wanted a separation. She hasn't changed her tune yet. I believe she will, but even if she does, she did say it. She told you she wanted to live away from you. Peter, no one can fault you for sleeping with someone when she basically said she plans to."

Peter dropped one of Abby's hands so he could raise his in the air timidly. "I...I can."

"Well no one asked you." Abby winked at him. "Peter, honestly. She's not exactly giving you a lot of options here. She won't let you see her, so you can't try to work things out. She's closed herself away... I don't think you've gone and made the best decision you've ever made in your life. But in terms of you doing some terrible insult to Aly's honour, I don't believe that's so."

"I'm married, Abby. I said in sickness and in health-"

"Did you say 'in separation', Peter? For that matter, did she?" Abby asked him, her eyebrows nearly touching her hairline. "Because last time I checked 'separation' meant pretty much that. She told you she wanted to be with other people."

"Mmm." Peter looked down at his hands, only to find that they were still balled into fists and hidden inside the sleeves of his sweater. Slowly he uncurled them, loosening his grip on his cuffs so that his sleeves slowly inched back from enveloping his hands. "Let's just...leave that for now. I didn't go to Svetlana expecting...that to happen."

"Why did you go to Svetlana and not, say, Liz?" Abby asked him, leaning back in her chair a little.

"Liz has enough to worry about." Peter said in hushed tones. "I...I don't like bothering her with my drama-"

"You think that your issues will bring up her own issues from everything Emma did to her?" Abby pointed out, in her own little highly attentive way. It seemed intuitiveness was a Littleton trait.

"Yeah." Peter nodded. "Actually, yeah."

"And Svetlana adores you. She's the mother of one of your kids, no matter how she came about." Abby was trying to be generous there. Once upon a time, when Svetlana had been unable to control her demonic impulses, and she had forced Peter into something he was less than willing to do, and Rasputina was the result. Rasputina, however, had also saved Svetlana's sanity and she had done much in the following two years to make up for her previous transgressions, which very much included making amends for killing Thomas.

"She's...I trust her. You were right when you said that, Abby. I trust Svetlana. I love her. But not...I love her as a friend."

"So you sought comfort in your friend who was more than willing to offer it to you." Abby said with a nod.

"And if I could leave it at that, I wouldn't be here." Peter groaned again and he leaned back on Abby's bed so he was staring up at the ceiling, though his feet were still firmly planted on the floor. He lifted his hands to run them through his hair and he left them there, fingers entertwined with his messy locks, elbows pointing outward at 45 degree angles. "I think you were on to something when you said maybe...maybe I feel I deserve to be punished. Though that's not what it was with Svetlana. She's...Svetlana is nothing but sweetness these days. There's even an innocence about her, which makes me feel slightly dirty until I remember she fucked her way across Eastern Europe before locking me in a bomb shelter and-" Peter shuddered. "Ah. You know."

"I do." Abby nodded, though he wasn't looking her way anymore. It was engrained in her to nod in an interested manner anyway, because people might take any kind of offense if she didn't during a session.

"My feeling I deserve nothing but unhappiness has nothing to do with going to Svetlana. But it's...it's the reason I'm not trying harder to get Aly back. If this had happened six months ago, you know I would have camped outside her room until she let me back in..." Peter pulled his hands out of his hair and he rolled his head onto it's side so he could look at her. "Don't you?"

Abby nodded again. "I do."

"But now...I'm just...I'm not worth it."

"You know that's bollocks, right?" Abby informed him quite clearly.

"No." Peter sighed and he rolled over on his side, propping his head up on his hand. "Abby, my best friend died because of me and he didn't even have to-"

"I was there too, Peter." Abby said quietly. "It wasn't just you he was choosing not to kill. It was me too. He was told to choose between us and he chose himself, but if you're responsible, so am I."

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but her logic was too utterly perfect and he had no argument. He closed his mouth again, instead choosing to look at her dubiously until another thought crossed his mind. "I still drive my wife into a mental hospital. You didn't drive Stuart into one."

"Stuart works in one, Peter!" Abby said, though he did too and so did she. "And he's about the least likely person to be bothered by anything ever. You could literally poke him for days before he would eventually say something like 'I say there, that is a trifle distracting, could you not take a slight break?'"

"That's...a pretty accurate description, yes." Peter had to admit. "But Aly was always the one who kept a steady head."

"Maybe this has been coming for a while because she hasn't kept a steady head on the inside. Peter, it's not your fault but you have had cancer twice in two years. One time you actually died for a few days, or that was what it looked like to us. And the next time, you were mortal so it looked like you were going to suffle off again. The woman already lost one husband, and she raised a son on her own. And when it looked like she was losing you, she was looking at having to care for six kids on her own. She's probably having a flip out about her issues now, because she can."

"That's what Tasha said too." Peter nodded, his hair mussing as it rubbed against the blanket.

"Tasha's a brilliant girl." Abby acknowledged. "Peter whatever Aly is going through, it doesn't have anything to do with what you do or do not deserve."

Peter took a deep breath and then he finally asked in a tiny voice, "if I deserve to have the people I love around me...why do I keep losing them?"

Abby closed her eyes because she hated to think that Peter had been feeling this way behind his wonderful mask of helpfulness. He had probably felt that way since his sister had died when he was eleven, or losing his parents at fourteen. His best friend dying in front of his eyes at twenty-four. Peter's life read like a booklet for loss and grief, and Abby couldn't blame him for feeling that way in the least. "Peter...you don't lose people because you don't deserve them. You lose them because...life sucks arse sometimes."

Peter sat up then so he could cover his mouth because he was close to crying and he felt ridiculous. Still, he nodded and continued to watch Abby with bright and brimming eyes. And then he pulled his hand away. "Everything hurts so much-" He couldn't keep it back anymore, and he broke down sobbing. Finally.

Abby moved from her chair until she was sitting beside him on the bed, her arms around him. "Oh, Peter." She kissed his hair and then she leaned back so he could lean against her. She held him there and when his sobs grew quieter she asked softly, "do you want me to pretend to be Thomas again to make you feel better?"

Peter shook his head against her arm, and he sniffled quite loudly. "No." He said, his hand tightening on her arm. "Just be Abby."

Abby smiled at him and she kissed his hair again. "Well that I can certainly do, Peter."