darker_london | That's...a lot... (Peter, Deirdre)

"What!?" Peter's voice unusually high and squeaky.

"Will you stop squirming!" Deirdre protested, as she was carefully bandaging his wounds at that moment in time.

"I'm sorry, I seem to be shaking with hunger and you completely blindsiding me with the fact that I'm no longer immortal and haven't been since I arrived here!! How I didn't die, I'll never know!" Peter hissed. Though he did know. Her name was Mirela.

"I'm sorry the plebs wouldn't feed us." Deirdre mumbled.

"Deirdre, don't call them plebs. And I understand why they wouldn't. Those demons are going to be pissed the fuck off, and if we're still here when they come, this village will get caught in the crossfire. Which, incidentally, is why you should stop changing the subject, and start telling me why exactly I have bright, shiny mortality again!"

"No. It's why you should stop fidgeting because you're making this take longer!" Deirdre growled, closing off one wrapping and starting on another. As soon as the group was patched up, they had to be on the move again, towards a bigger city. And fast. Or the demons would come for them and they'd be LONG gone.

"DEIRDRE!" Peter yelled, because he was long past the end of his rope. "Do not anger a starving man!"

"Fine, Mr Touchy." Deirdre sighed. "You gave your immortality to Thomas, only he's not immortal, just alive."

At that, Peter didn't move anymore. His shaking even ceased. And then, several seconds later, he turned and he looked Deirdre in the eye, his demeanor more vulnerable than Deirdre had ever seen it before in her life... "T...Thomas?"

"Thomas."

"Alive?" Peter's voice was small, as if he wasn't daring to hope.

Deirdre smiled and she finished off the last bandage. "Yeah. Alive."

"Oh my god!" Peter didn't care any more that he wasn't immortal. Thomas was alive. Why would he care!? Unless he had died too, which he hadn't, though if he didn't get something to eat soon, he didn't want to hedge his bets... This was the most amazing news he had ever heard. And all he wanted now, was to be home with his best friend. "Is he happy?!"

"Er...he's sick actually." Deirdre bit her lip. "Apparently he didn't have an immune system. See, Rolf says it can only happen to people that have been brought back by an angel see 'cause they're needed anyway. And then the immortal person has to sacrifice their immortality without meaning to really because it has to be selfless so if you KNOW you can, it's not really selfless because there's choice in it. But if you weren't willing to do it, it couldn't happen."

"Of course I'm willing! Get back to the sick part." Peter requested, because he was used to Deirdre losing the topic quite quickly.

"Oh, right! So that body you gave life...it had never BEEN alive before so really he already has an old body still all dead and shit in Bath. And this new one had never been alive so it didn't matter than he had had chicken pox as a kid, he still got it again."

"Thomas...got chicken pox?" Peter asked, with his face screwed up.

"Yeah. It was totally gross. And then Abby realised what was going on so she gave him all these shots. Some in the butt. So hopefully he'll be okay but his brain swelled and for a second there, we thought you gave him brain cancer."

"Fuck!" Peter looked horrified at the very thought of poor Thomas suffering what he did. "Oh, god...he must have been terrified..."

"Says the man who just spent a week at the mercy of fucking crazy-arse demons." Deirdre said, her voice incredulous. "How did you not die?"

"Can we move on, please?" Peter asked, but that time his voice was much more fond. He did love Deirdre rather more that most people, after all. She was family.

"So yeah, Thomas is alive, but it's not a fucking fairytale and Quinn...uhm...you left. You left just as we got home and Quinn wasn't at the airport."

Peter's face fell. "Where...where was he?"

"At home. Someone beat the shite out of him and they left them there. His brain leaked out his ears. And now he sits there all day and drools and Flynn is crushed, as you would be...and Spectre is fucked and Thomas was all...brain swollen and Stephie is brain-fucked, but in the emotional sense, not the literal one like Jax and Quinn, and then we found out you could die and it was all like...'QUIT FUCKING ERUPTING ALL OVER US YOU CUNTDICK DOOM VOLCANO!'"

"Er...ow..." Peter covered his ears, though the pain he was referring to was his heart breaking in two. Quinn and Spectre and Stephie and Flynn and Jax and Thomas and ow, ow, ow.

"Yeah. It's a bit that way. London needs you, Peter Kemp. So...thanks for not letting Demoncrazies kill you."

"Heh...my pleasure. Are you sure you don't have any rations left?" Peter asked, rather pitifully. He didn't feel like he could be the Peter everyone needed to be if he was hollow.

"Razvan ate them all like the git he is. I'm sorry! Come on, Peter." Deirdre extended a hand out to him. "The sooner we leave, the sooner you eat. And the sooner we get home." And the sooner they got home, the sooner they could help people. Because help was sorely needed. "Have I mentioned I love you any time in the past ten minutes?"

Peter gave Deirdre a fond look and he allowed her to help him into a standing position. "I think you might have. But I'll gladly take it again anyway. I love you too." He wrapped his arms around her and he pressed his lips to her forehead in a loving, fatherly kiss. "Let's get the others. Home sounds damn good." However broken or damaged, it still sounded better than here.