Face your Fear (Thomas and then Peter)

[suave-thomas.livejournal.com]

When Peter had asked Thomas to meet him at the hospital because there was something he needed to see, Thomas knew at once exactly what that something was. He had admitted to Peter that he awoke every morning with a fresh feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. And he went to sleep each night, only to relive the horror he had experienced at the hands of Amaris over and over again in his dreams. Thomas knew in his heart that Peter was right. There was something he needed to see at the hospital. But that didn't mean he wasn't terrified of doing that very thing.

Fear was not something Thomas was overly accomplished at expressing. And while he was panicking the entire way over, his dead body showed no signs of it. He had no heartbeat to race. No adrenaline to rush through his system. It didn't matter if he became breathless, because he didn't have to breathe. All the ways in which his fear might be expressed inside, were denied to him. And he was left with expressing it in the only way he truly could.

"MOTHER FUCKING SON OF A BATSHITE....ah, I lost my stride there." Thomas sighed and leaned his head against the window of the car.

Peter, who had promptly squealed a girlish squeal at Thomas' sudden outburst, managed to maintain control of the vehicle he was currently driving so that he didn't crash into a tree or an octogenarian passerby, who gave him a greasy look for swerving anyway. "I say, could you warn me before you scream curse words, Thomas!" Peter hissed through gritted teeth once his own heart rate had slowed beyond the cardiac arrest point.

"Sorry. I'm freaking out."

"Well gee, the invitation to your party of panic could have been a little kinder. You know...curly writing. Pictures of birds and flowers."

"How about knuckle sandwiches?" Thomas grumbled back. Then he caught sight of the hospital and he felt his throat constrict. "Oh, god...Peter. Peter, I can't go in there. I can't."

"Yes, you can." Peter soothed. He pulled the car into the long winding drive and up to the hospital car park. There, he leapt from the car and then loped around to the passenger side door because Thomas didn't look like he was going to get out on his own.

Promptly, Thomas locked his door.

"Thomas!" Peter gave him a look and then he knocked on the window. "Thomas, open the door!"

"Can't hear you mate, sorry!" Thomas crossed his arms across his chest and he frowned at Peter, his lips perfecting a pout.

"Thomas, I can hear you, which means you can hear me. You're being ridiculous. Your wife can see you right now, you know?" Peter arched one eyebrow and he pointed upwards dramatically. He knew Mary would be watching them. Especially now.

"She finds be charming and charismatic." Thomas shot back, still refusing to leave the car.

"I didn't want to have to do it this way." Peter held up the electronic key, and he pushed it in the same second as he opened the car door.

"Augh, shit! Technology!" Thomas pushed away from Peter, but Peter's hand found his wrist.

"Will you come on, you giant sissy, before you cause a scene!" Peter managed to pull a very put out looking Thomas from the car, and then he shook his head and stowed his key in his pocket. "I know this is hard, Thomas. And I'm sorry about that. Here." Peter offered his best friend his hand, and Thomas took it gratefully.

"You realise we're about to walk into a hospital you own, hand-in-hand?"

"I am aware." Peter said, a smile in his voice as they started to walk towards the impressive building. "If there's anyone in there who doesn't know you and I are just a little bit strange, they probably deserve to be shocked. We're going to the basement."

The entire walk there, Thomas couldn't help feeling like he was being led to his death. But he was already dead, and his hand was safe in Peter's. Peter wouldn't lead him anywhere bad, he had utmost faith in that. Though if anyone else had tried to bring him here, he might have punched them and run away...

Their footsteps echoed ominously on the stone staircase and all the way up three different hallways until they reached the ward Amaris was kept in. She was the only demon kept so very tightly locked up, because Peter believed in rehabilitation and not throwing away the key. Amaris, however...she had well proven she was beyond any help Peter was qualified to give. And considering what he had done, that was saying something.

Thomas watched as Peter keyed in the codes to three different doors, and then he led Thomas to the last one. "We're not going in." Peter said, which did send a flood of relief through Thomas. "Just look in the window."

Thomas closed his eyes and he took several unnecessary breaths. "Peter...Peter, fucking hell." Thomas squeezed Peter's hand, and then upon finding the assurance he needed there, he opened his eyes.

Amaris was lying on the bed, attached to more machines than Thomas had been when he had been hospitalised. Thanks to spending time as an angelic spirit in his doctor sister's head, he knew what every single machine was for, and that gave him even more comfort. They were not machines that were used for people who were going to recover. They were machines which were used to keep people alive long after they probably shouldn't be anymore. And Thomas knew...he knew if a human or an angel happened to touch Amaris, she would be healed in an instant. But that was why so many doors separated Amaris from the world. To keep that very thing from happening. "She's..."

"-not a problem anymore." Peter finished for Thomas. "She won't hurt you again, Thomas."

Anger rose to the surface and for a moment, all Thomas wanted to do was rip the door off it's hinges and beat her to a pulp. Outrage at what she had put him through...all the pain and torture and endless hunger...it boiled away inside him and then faded as quickly as it had appeared. How could he honestly be angry at someone who was attached to a catheter? It seemed pointless. And being afraid of that same person...that seemed beyond pathetic. "No. She won't." Thomas agreed. "Nor will she hurt anybody else." Thomas turned to Peter and he smiled. And for the first time since he had returned, Peter could tell the smile was genuine.

"Now would you like me to take you up to the hospital cafeteria and buy you some cake?" Peter asked Thomas, levity evident in his expression.

"Is there chocolate?" Thomas questioned, turning his back on his greatest fear. "OH is there German chocolate?!"

Peter chuckled and he gave Thomas' hand a squeeze. "You know, Thomas? There just might be German chocolate with ice cream."

"Ah, Peter Kemp. You're my hero." And he meant that in every sense of the word.