darker_london | People always do that in Central Park... (Peter)

The concerts had been incredible. Peter had seen Dream Theater play in New York City. Twice. It had been a dream of his to do this ever since Deirdre first played their music for him and he felt it speak to him. All of the bands had been incredible. It was like there was a vibe in the air...an expectation of awesome, and no one was let down. Peter had been moved to tears to hear his Deirdre join Dream Theater on-stage and sing while they played The Spirit Carries On. Her voice was so hauntingly beautiful. And so freeing in that moment. Not to mention how much the song spoke of their journey together, and how much he loved her.

The concerts were over now, however, and the musicians and their loved ones were talking a well-earned rest. Peter was pretty much the only one there without his significant other, except for Spectre who was currently curled up in bed beside his little sister. Peter awoke early, alone in his hotel room. And he smiled to himself as the sun peeked through the curtains. Tomorrow he had to return to London and responsibility and everyone needing him, which he never minded. Absolutely not. But sometimes it was nice to just...be.

Peter dressed, and he went for a wander, allowing his feet to take him to Central Park. He'd been to New York City before, but then he had had a demon to follow, as he'd been here to ensure that Deirdre did no harm to Jude or to herself. Now he could really enjoy the city. And that, he certainly did. It was a busy place, full of very loud people. But Peter found himself rather enjoying the conversations he heard being shouted back and forth. Except for the occasional disturbing ones...

Eventually Peter found a park bench where he could sit and think. He contemplated the remaining parts of his thesis while he watched people pass him by. People who hadn't been traumatised by the Templars' reign of terror in London. People who probably had no idea there had been a religious war going on in England at all. He felt an angel walk past him, turning to acknowledge him with a little head nod, which Peter returned with a knowing smile.

He had been sitting there for almost two hours when his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten breakfast before coming out here. He was quite hungry by now, so he stood, intent on finding a nice little cafe where he could get some lunch and a nice cup of tea. And then a vision slammed into him as if he'd run right into a brick wall.

Peter groaned and he fell to the ground, seizing up and squirming around, unable to control his muscles. In his mind's eye, he was seeing that same damn cave in Romania, though there were no further clues as to where in Romania it was. There was something different though. Up until now, whenever he'd seen anything in these visions, it had always been the dead woman, her body twisted into a perpetual position of prayer. This time, however, he saw a redhead. He couldn't be sure she wasn't dead, because she was lying in a cell, unmoving. But she certainly looked nothing like the other woman. If she was dead, it had just happened.

Peter's spasms stilled, and when he once again became cognizant of his surroundings, he glanced upwards, eyes squinting in the light. Several faces were peering down at him and he blinked back up at them. "Hard night last night, eh, Buddy?" A rather large man inquired. "Here, let me help you up." He offered Peter a hand and the rest of the people surrounding him moved back a little.

Peter stood up slowly, still feeling quite shaky. "Er...thank you." He put a hand to his head and he winced, as he'd hit it on the ground rather hard. "Oooh, fuck."

"Yeah, been there!" The large American informed him. "Fight with the Missus?"

"Er...no, nothing of the sort, I assure you." Peter replied, glancing around again at the faces surrounding him. Suddenly he felt quite boxed in. The people weren't leaving... They were staying. And interested?! "Just a trifle clumsy, I'm afraid."

"Where are you from, Buddy?" The man wasn't ready to give up yet. "Here, sit on the bench, you look like hell!"

Peter looked slightly amused at the man's chutzpah, but he did take a seat on the bench. There was nothing pressing he'd learned in the vision. Even if there was someone they could save, they still didn't know where the hell they were going, or what the girl needed to be saved from. There was nothing they could yet do. And if he tried to rush now, it was possible he'd faint and end up on the ground again. "London, actually." Peter replied and he received replies of 'oooooh' quite like a chorus. "Heh."

"Fucked up things been goin' down there!" A woman informed the group. "What 'bout 'choo? You fucked up? You a Nazi jew hater?"

"Er...no!" Peter answered, even if his stupid German family was. "Are...you Jewish?" Why he asked, he never would know.

"No I ain't fuckin' Jewish! I look Jewish to you!?" The woman responded, and the large man sort of pushed her to the side when Peter looked slightly distressed.

"You should probably get to a hospital if you conked your noggin there, Buddy." He said, looking quite worried.

"He don't look too bad!" The woman who was not Jewish continued as if her opinion was of vital importance. "Well he certainly all pale. Why the hell you all pale!?"

"I'm...delicate?" Peter suggested, feeling well out of his depth now that he was surrounded by people who seemed to be discussing his well-being without a care in the world as to what he thought.

"You a pansy?!" The woman asked, excited now.

"I'd like to go back to my hotel!" Peter asserted, standing up rather too quickly and feeling dizzy.

"Take it easy, Buddy, geez!" The man said.

"He does look pale."

"I hope he doesn't fall over."

"Should we follow the British man?"

"Is London in Britain?"

"No, Britain's in London."

"Why is he so pale?"

"Did your hair get messed up like that when you fell?"

"I think he's scared. I heard Britains are scared easily."

"What choo lookin' at?!"

So much for a quiet, reflective walk. Peter had had quite enough, and he left them all to their incessant chattering as he hastily stumbled away, heading in the vague direction of the hotel. By the time he arrived back in his room, Deirdre was waiting for him. "Oh thank god!" Peter whispered. "Someone sane!"

"HAH! It's been a long time since someone said that when they saw me!" Deirdre winked, but she could tell Peter was feeling unwell so she helped him over to the sofa. "What's up, Peterface?"

"Augh. Visions. And New Yorkers. I'm never going out on my own in the big city again. And I'm hungry and they wouldn't let me go!!"

Deirdre's eyes widened. "Did someone try to kidnap you?!" She was scared then, her voice squeaky.

"No! No, they were just...really interested!" Peter sighed and he leaned back against the sofa. "I'm ringing room service and then you're all coming with me to the library. I have to look up Romania. Again."

Deirdre stood and she patted Peter on his head before carrying the phone over to him. "Will do, Peter. Will do."