darker_london | This is not my beautiful wife (Peter, Aly and David)

Thanks to his new treatment, Peter was finding it easier and easier to sleep through the night. For a man who had been struggling with insomnia since the lovely age of 24; nearly half his life ago, sleep had become almost a hated part of said life. The nightly ritual of trying to shut his mind down, only to be awoken if he did happen to get to sleep, by some terrible vision of something happening on the other side of the world that he could not control. Now, sleep was joyful. He looked forward to it, and when he fell asleep, his dreams were no longer disturbed. His visions came during the day, painless and pure, and he was able to help there where he could.

When he awoke very early on Tuesday morning, it was a strange occurrence. He woke with the feeling that something was wrong, and when he reached out to find comfort in the slumbering woman beside him, he found her gone from their bed, and the mattress cold. Aly, his wife, was not in bed with him, and hadn't been for some time.

Hefting himself out of bed, Peter hastily pulled on a pair of pyjama pants and he checked on the three slumbering toddlers in the nursery before padding down the stairs in his bare feet. Even then, the rooms which usually resounded with the happy cries of children were so silent, the walls only echoed his own footsteps back to him.

At the bottom of the stairs, Peter could see a light filtering through under the door to the kitchen. He made a beeline for the room and when he reached it and swung the door open, he found his wife leaning against the counter, gripping a cup of coffee as it it was her life line.

Aly did not usually drink coffee. And never at three in the morning.

"Aly?" Peter asked worriedly. He crossed the room to her, but he didn't touch her. After working so long at a hospital, he was now pretty well versed in knowing the signs which clearly meant 'back off'. Aly's brown eyes were filled with horror and wide with shock and Peter wasn't going to touch her and make things worse.

Aly lifted her head and slowly she said, "Peter..." There was regret in her voice and though he recognised the lyrical sounds of her voice, the tone and pattern of speech was not Aly's. He would know that tone anywhere. Suddenly, Peter understood that it was not his wife in front of him at all. David, Aly's late brother and Peter's best friend, was in charge here. After he had died his spirit had taken up residence in Aly's body, turning her into an angel and he was at the wheel.

"Ah, David. What's wrong?"

David shook Aly's head, eyes still wide. Fingers still curled, claw-like, around a cup of coffee that was quickly going cold.

"Alright. David, is it okay if I touch you?" A nod. Peter reached out and he gently took the cup from Aly's hands. Once it was safely on the bench, he took those hands into his own. Only once they were cradled there, did Aly's fingers relax. David had never been bothered by physical contact from Peter, which was a damn lucky thing. And he seemed grateful enough now, even through whatever else he was experiencing. "Can you tell me why you're in the kitchen at three in the morning?"

"We had a dream," David answered.

"Is that why Aly isn't speaking?" Peter asked. He did love David, but it was disconcerting at best to be talking to his dead best friend through his wife's body. He missed David. He never wanted their friendship to end up like this.

"Aly's still asleep," David replied sadly.

Peter's eyes narrowed. "She's-" That was a first. David was inherently respectful of Aly's body and he would have known Aly was not someone who would like her body used without her full knowledge and consent. She had been possessed before. This was different, sure, but Peter wasn't entirely convinced Aly would see it that way. "David..."

"She's dreaming, Peter." David replied. "And I can't wake her up. Jesus..."

Peter blinked, a rotten and horrified feeling settling into the pit of his stomach. "David. What is my wife dreaming about?"

David looked up at him and Peter saw his own wife's eyes looking at him with such utter pain and regret. He wanted to take her into his arms and hold her until it was all okay, but it wasn't really his wife looking at him. He had to keep reminding himself.

In anguish, he dropped Aly's hands and he clenched his fists, trying to keep control of himself. "David, please?"

"She's-" David shuddered, and again every cell in Peter's body screamed at him to comfort his poor wife. "She's dreaming of the things I did. Peter, I'm so sorry."

"The things you did?" Peter was not David. He found it all too easy to forget the Hell David had been thorough. He had forgotten the efficient way Amaris had ruined his family; broken it down from the inside out when she had forced David to sleep with Lavannah.

"To Lavannah." David said. Instantly, Peter felt sick as well as ashamed that he hadn't remembered. "And not just me. Joshua. What Joshua did to Christina. And...what Jareth did to Mary. Seeing what Svetlana did to you. She's seeing all of it." Which meant David was seeing it too. It was little wonder he looked so distraught. In life, he had pretended to be okay and he had gotten on with things. He was no longer alive. There was no need to pretend.

None of what Aly was seeing was David's fault. It was all the result of terrible things he had witnessed, been forced to do, or had gained knowledge of because of an angelic spirit he had once had in his own head. Peter had knowledge of it all too. Before finding permanent residence in Aly's body, he had taken a ride in Peter's in order to get from Delford to London. Angelic spirits couldn't move without help. Now, recalling images Aly was no doubt seeing, Peter retched and he reached forward to grab Aly's arm. Whether the terrible circumstances were David's fault or not, it was still information he would have known Aly would have to live with. David had never considered it. He had never had a second thought for giving Aly the memories of a rapist.

Peter had never considered it either.

"Why can't you wake her up!?" Peter asked, desperate and already freaking out.

"I just can't, Peter. I could if I resorted to physical means, but I won't do that to my little sister-"

"Aly!" Peter called, and if he hadn't been so frantic, he would have felt ridiculous. "Alyona, sweetheart, please wake up.

David wrenched Aly's arm out of Peter's grip. "Do you really want her to wake up to you shaking her?! It won't help!"

"I know I don't want her seeing another moment of...that!" Peter couldn't stand the thought of it. He was breaking at the thought of what she might go through. She wasn't dreaming vague and disturbing things that had no basis in fact. She was dreaming reality. Peter knew what it was like. "David, let me help my wife!"

Aly's face was etched in regret, but David didn't fight any more. He knew it wasn't his place. "She's going to fight you, Peter," he warned, as if Peter wasn't used to it by now. As if he didn't know what to expect from trauma and terror.

"Let me help my wife," he repeated. Carefully he walked Aly to the other room and he waited until she was settled on the sofa. Then David faded away and Aly's eyes closed, utterly asleep. Peter took a deep breath, pushing his dread deep into that part of himself he hid from everyone, and he reached out to shake Aly's shoulder.

"Aly, please. Aly! You're dreaming, Aly. Wake up!" He shook her harder, increasing pressure and pace until she sat up with a yelp. Aly pushed him away hard and he stumbled back, falling to the floor. He had been ready for this, however, and he didn't hurt. He was up again in an instant in time to see Aly pull herself into a ball on the sofa.

She didn't even whimper.

"Aly?" Peter asked carefully. Aly's gaze flicked up to him. She looked terrorised. As scared as he had ever seen her.

Aly ducked her head, lacing her fingers into her short hair. Her fingers curled into claws and there she sat, her forehead against her bent knees. She made no sound, nor sign that she would move again. Peter moved forward, inch by breathless inch, until he was beside her on the sofa. Gently, he pulled her against him and she did not stop him. She did not fight him as David had claimed, and in Peter's mind, that was worse. It was as if she had given in completely. It was like Aly, his beloved wife, was barely there at all.

When he called her name, she did not reply. When he spoke to her of what she had seen and did his best to reassure her, she still said nothing. He lapsed into silence and she was lost to her memories, dreaming or no. When the sun rose, so did their children and Peter had to leave her in favour of them. He reassured her again that nothing she had seen was her fault, kissed her hair with the promise to return, and then he slipped upstairs to help the littlest ones up. He dressed them all and managed to get them all down the stairs for breakfast.

When he reached the living room, his wife was gone. The only evidence that she had been there at all was a hastily scribbled note on the coffee table.

Be back later. -M A