darker_london | Not a good time of year (Peter, Abel) (Reply)

Once upon a time, April 12th had been a day of joy. Peter had celebrated the birthday of his best friend David on that day, and he always did his best to spoil the man he thought of as a brother. And then, one of the years he had intended to spend the day celebrating, a man had come to the door to shatter any illusions of happiness the day brought. Alessandro Dragonetti had delivered the ashes of one Robert MacGavillary direct to Peter's doorstep, and Peter had learned another of his dear friends was dead. The day took on new meaning. The two years preceeding had been spent quietly, and though he had celebrated David's birthday in a subdued fashion, Peter had been plagued with the memory of opening the box and finding the remains of his friend inside.

This year, not only was he reminded of Robert's death, but David was dead too. And though his best friend's soul had taken up residence in Peter's wife, making her an angelic amalgamation of the two of them (which Peter still found terribly confusing at strange at times) it wasn't the same. Peter was lucky to have his friend Thomas back, yes. That didn't meant he didn't miss the ever present camraderie David had represented. David's friendship had been somewhat quieter than his friendship with Thomas, and much less based on mutual lust, and Peter had married David's sister. David was a second-in-command when needed, a confidant when required, and always ready to laugh at Peter's morbid jokes when Peter had nothing else but dark humour to turn to. They had been through Heaven and Hell together. All in all, on April 12th, 2010, Peter missed his friends so much it hurt.

He had done his best to numb his soul with the well-aged scotch he liked to hide in his desk drawers.

It may have been two days later, but Peter was still nursing the hangover he had managed to give his stupid self. It was proof that even if one is immortal, it doesn't mean one can drink themselves into a stupor without consequenses. He was locked in his office, trying desperately to make sure that there was hide nor hair of Svetlana Kavenskaya's name in the hospital's databases lest her nosy ex-foster brother Abel come a-knocking. And that was when Abel contacted him by calling him on the phone. Knocking be damned.

"Peter Kemp speaking," Peter said, sounding half-dead.

"Brother Peter? I don't know if you'll remember me, but my name is Abel Robson..."

Peter, who was supposed to know nothing about the fact that Abel was in London searching for his long lost foster sister, feigned innocence though he thought it safe to know Abel's name. Svetlana had killed Thomas in this man's sitting room. You didn't forget something like that."

"I...I remember," Peter said, trying his best to sound slightly disturbed that Abel Robson would be calling him, at the same time as sounding less hungover.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Brother-"

"Not...Brother."

"...come again?"

"It's not Brother Peter," Peter said with a sigh. "I'm just Peter Kemp now." Peter knew Abel would know that too. Tricky policemen and their tricks.

"Ah, my apologies Mr Kemp. I'm ringing because I was looking through some old files on my foster sister. Svetlan-"

"I know who you are talking about," Peter hissed. It wasn't easy sounding like he abhored a woman he was now very much in love with, but he hoped he carried it off. "Why would you dredge something like that up?"

"I'm a Detective now, Mr Kemp. I was in London for a convention this past weekend and I saw Svetlana. In London. Now I noted in the report you stated she had stalked you and she wouldn't leave you alone. I believe she managed to convince a mental hospital that you were having hallucinations while she victimised you, is that correct?"

Peter gritted his teeth, because it was correct and he didn't like being reminded. That had been another Svetlana. She was different now. So very different. That didn't meant she hadn't done terrible things. "It's correct. Look, I don't really want to-"

"Mr Kemp, if Svetlana is in London, she could very well be targeting you again. I'm going to assign some security to follow you around-"

"That's really not necessary-"

"I read in the report that she abducted your children. Children, Mr Kemp? Do you really feel like risking their lives for your pride?"

Peter was silent for a long time. An assigned security task force was really going to cramp his style. Worse? It was going to lead the bloody cops right to Svetlana's doorstep. "How can you assign me anything, don't you live in Bath?"

"I've had them reassign me here until this is dealt with. I have...specialist knowledge. I am very interested in speaking in person. Are you available in an hour?"

Peter groaned inwardly. Outwardly he said, "Sure." What else could he do? "Though I do have to say I want nothing to do with any of this. Svetlana is a chapter of my life I have left behind. Gladly."

"Be that as it may, we need to see it stays that way. See you in an hour, Mr Kemp."

After Abel hung up, Peter slammed down the phone and then he winced at the noise. "fucking stupid....argh." He pulled himself to his unsteady feet and he moved to his office door. He had a lot to do, and an hour to do it in. But so help him, Abel wasn't going to get his grubby mitts on Svetlana. Not a chance.

He had no idea that Svetlana had been listening. And she was not impressed with what she had heard.