darker_london | Cracks (Peter, Aly)

After Peter's visit to Maya Crewe, he had done as she said and flushed the rest of his anti-convulsants down the toilet. It wasn't as if any visions could kill him now, vulnerable brain or no. It would just heal itself if he did cause any damage with his visions, and dammit, Peter didn't want to miss anything else. If a vision could have saved Thomas... Peter didn't want to take that chance again.

Peter was re-translating an old tome he had looked at before, just to make sure he had gotten the language exactly right. The passages talked about an 'angel' with black who had blacked out the sun in the days of the fall of Constantinople. Peter had assumed it had been a demon instead of an angel, but he couldn't know for sure. There was something that kept drawing his attention back to it. As if it was vital somehow, though he couldn't quite put his finger on why.

Aly cleared her throat behind him and the sound of it made the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stand on end. She must still be stroppy with him. Why couldn't she just say hello like everyone else, why did she have to clear her throat and hope he would be the first one to speak. It was so...well it was immature, was what it was. But his wife was only thirty-one. "Yes, Dear?" Peter asked, and only when he was finished, did he turn his head to face her.

"I assume you won't be joining us for dinner?" Aly asked curtly.

"Aly, don't do that." Peter groaned and he turned his body so he was facing her more fully. "If you want me to come down, just ask me."

"I wouldn't want to interrupt your work." Aly leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed across her chest coldly.

"You're not being fair." Peter muttered. "My best friend is lost, Aly, and this work is keeping my mind off it. I never said I wouldn't-"

"My best friend died too, Peter!" Aly interjected loudly. "And I came to you for comfort. You just turn to your books, it's...maddening!"

"Would you rather I turn to alcohol, Alyona, because that's what I will do if I don't occupy my mind! You can't be my babysitter every second of every day, nor would I ever ask you to be! I'm trying to keep you from having to take care of me while you suffer your own grief! You have six children, you hardly need another." Peter ran his fingers through his hair, wondering how this had escalated into a fight before it had even been a discussion.

"You want to occupy your mind? Fine, I'm going out. You can take care of the kids and put them to bed." Aly raised her eyebrows as if challenging Peter to argue.

"Why...are you saying that like it's a punishment?" Peter shook his head. "Aly, I'd love to take care of the kids and put them to bed. In fact...hell, I can do it all week."

"You make it sound so easy, Peter Kemp." Aly visibly deflated there by the door, and then she stood and walked into their bathroom to get herself a drink of water. "You make the rest of us humans look bad."

"I hardly think that's true, Aly..." Peter stood, intending to follow her and attempt to comfort her. He wanted to get the fight over with. But when he reached her, she was staring at the empty pill bottle in the trash.

"Peter, I just refilled that. Why is it in the trash?"

"I'm not going to take them anymore. I don't want to shut out the visions, and since I can't die-"

"Is that all that matters to you?!" Aly whirled around then, eyes flashing. Peter actually backed up in the wake of her anger. She looked an inch away from bowling him over.

"A...Aly-"

"If you don't take those pills, you can't drive! You have to be careful holding the kids! I could hardly leave you here alone with them!"

"Lydia is nearly fourteen, Aly. If anything happens, we'd be okay, and Deirdre is still only ten minutes away. And Angie could drive-"

"You don't think do you!?" Aly yelled, pushing past him to go to her closet. She pulled out a leather jacket and she pulled it on. "You didn't even tell me! GOD you make me so angry, Peter!"

Helplessly, Peter followed her. "Aly, I don't understand why! What am I doing that's so offensive? Aly, please. Please talk to me."

"No, Peter. You talk to me." And she turned and left him standing there in his bedroom, utterly bewildered. Luckily, he didn't have much of a chance to think about it. He had a family to take care of.