darker_london | I found God... (Peter, Rolf) (Reply)

Thomas was lost. They couldn't find him. Rolf couldn't find him. Spectre had checked and Mary didn't know where he was. He was just gone. And somewhere in the back of his mind, Peter knew that Thomas was somewhere. He had to be. He was in The Beyond somewhere, waiting for them to find him. But Peter was panicking. What they knew about The Beyond was very little. Even if Rolf had tried to be comforting, how could they ever know they'd find Thomas?! Maybe he could just stay lost forever, no matter how hard they looked?! The thought had Peter frightened and horrified and it probably explained why he had escaped the house in the early morning to find a pub that didn't ask questions like "a little early, eh mate?"

Peter had only allowed himself two drinks. Because even if Thomas was lost, he could still be watching and he would not approve of Peter drinking. Especially since his first death was what caused Peter's problem in the first place. If this death did the same, he might never come back, even if they did find him...

With a preoccupied and frantic mind, Peter stepped out of the pub and onto the footpath. He wanted, more than anything, to head right back into the dim little place and drink until he couldn't feel anything, but he forced his feet to move in the opposite direction. He neared the street, ready to cross. He was within walking distance of the hospital, since he did not drink and drive and he didn't want to go home like this.

When Peter stepped out into the street, he wasn't watching. He was too busy wallowing in misery. And he never saw the car coming. It was the second car that would barrel into Peter in his lifetime, and as Peter felt his side explode in pain, he screamed. He was rolling, rolling, rolling up and over and then he was falling and he could hear the sound of tyres screeching and someone else screamed, it surely wasn't him, because he had no air left in his useless lungs.

The sky was purple. He would always remember the grey clouds had gone from dreary to purple in his dying eyes. He knew his legs were all wrong and his arms were bent backwards, but mercifully he couldn't feel them. He couldn't feel anything below his neck. That was bent at an odd angle too, and he could hear a gurgle escaping him. His lungs were emptying up through his windpipe, but he could no more take another breath than he could dance a jig. Huh... Peter thought, as his head grey fuzzier. Thomas was wrong. I don't see my life flashing in front of my eyes at all-

When Peter blinked his eyes open again, there was a crowd of faces above him. He stared at them, uncomprehending, his mouth slack. Suddenly, he gasped in a deep breath of air, and his lungs expanded, just as they should. Just as they were supposed to.

Just as they really shouldn't be able to.

"No...?" Peter muttered. He felt dizzy. Dizzy, but...

"It's alright, Man. Just lie there, okay, we called an ambulance!"

Peter could read more fear and horror in that voice than he felt himself right now. "Ugh...no. No ambulance."

"Uh..." The man who addressed him stood above him, all suity and respectable looking. Peter decided he didn't like him. "Mister, you really should-"

Peter ignored the man and he pulled himself into a sitting position. He lifted his hand to his mouth and he gingerly touched his fingers to the corner of his mouth. His fingers came away red. Blood. He was bleeding from his mouth which probably meant his lungs had been- "No."

"Look, I didn't see you, okay! You just stepped out, and- Fuck, I'm so sorry! I have this meeting-"

"Uh huh." Peter mumbled. He had gone white from shock, and it was not because he had been hit by a car. The pain from that...it was gone. It was nowhere. It had disappeared. Peter pulled himself into a standing position, and though he was a little shaky, he had no trouble staying upright. His blood was all over the street and all over his clothes, but it seemed that the flow had stopped...it had clearly been lethal. All the breaks and gashes...even if he hadn't broken his neck he would have bled to death. That was why his injuries had healed too, unlike the last time he had been hit. And his neck...that had healed too.

Peter was immortal again. He should be dead, and he wasn't.

"Fuck!" Peter understood it now. He understood everything. It hit him like a moment of sudden and painful clarity. He knew why his tumour hadn't killed him when it should have. Why he didn't lose his hair during the chemo. Why he had died on the surgical table and them miraculously the surgery had been successful. Why Thomas had lost his ability to combat The Pull and why he had suffered so... This immortality wasn't something that had happened because Thomas was gone now. This had been done to him. Months ago. And he hadn't known.

The man stepped in front of Peter as he tried to leave, holding his hands up to impede Peter's progress. "Mister, you really need to-"

"Get the FUCK out of my way!" Peter screamed at the man, and no one was going to stand in his way after that. Wild-haired, covered in blood, and walking about when he should be dead, Peter looked the part of an absolute lunatic, and if he wanted to go, why would anyone put themselves in his path?

"Mr Kemp? Watch yourself, alright? Just take care."

That damn woman from Lydia's class. Her teacher. She had told him to take care... And he hadn't listened. With a growl, Peter strode towards his hospital with rather more energy than he had had leaving the pub.

"Jesus Christ, Peter..." Katia took a deep breath as Peter entered the hospital looking murderous and...slightly murdered... "What happened to you?"

"Fucking Rolf!" Peter didn't even stop. He stalked around the corner, and he burst into Rolf's office, slamming the door open. "What the fuck, Rolf!?" Peter screamed at him.

Rolf calmly looked up from his work, and he gave Peter a quizzical look. "Peter, you're covered in blood..."

"No fucking kidding!" Peter yelled again, his voice raising higher and higher and his gestures becoming wilder. He was no aware that people were gathering outside of Rolf's office, watching this showdown between their boss and the second in command. "I just got hit by a car. And I walked away, Rolf. Can you tell me why the fuck I walked away?"

"I should think you would be glad..."

"What did you do to me!?" Peter was pleading now. Desperate to understand why someone hw considered a friend would betray him like this. "Why!?"

"Peter, the world needs you-"

Peter's had rarely felt so angry in his life. His jaw clenched and in three strides he was across the room. He picked Rolf up out of his chair by his collar and then he held him with one hand while the other he used to slam into Rolf's face before he dropped him to the ground in a heap. "The world can fucking suck on it!" Peter screamed, though he didn't mean it. He was grief-stricken and horrified and panicking and doing a lot of things he normally wouldn't do. "How dare you do this to me! You never asked! When? When did you do this!?"

"While you were sick." Rolf said, rising easily. He didn't even bother testing the ginger area of his face with his fingers, he just healed it with barely an effort. And that really pissed Peter off.

"While I was sick."

"Yes. Peter, I didn't want your family to lose you-"

"You fucking prick. You had no right! No fucking right!" Peter felt violated. Disgusted. His life had been changed without his knowledge or consent. He was not going to grow old with his wife. He was not going to grow old at all. And then he realised something else that stole his breath away for the second time in under an hour. Thomas had held a gun on him, and then he had chosen to kill himself. If they had known-

"You didn't tell me." His voice was low now. There was no anger behind it, but that was worse... "You didn't tell me, Rolf. You didn't ask and I didn't know. And now Thomas is dead. He died to save me, but I was never in any real danger was I?"

"No...no I suppose you weren't." Rolf said, thoughtfully.

Peter looked up at him and he locked eyes with the angel, glowering menacingly at him. "I want you to leave this place, Rolf. And I want you never to come back." And then he hit Rolf again, right between the eyes. Because it felt good.