darker_london | Missing the Silence (Peter, Patrick, Thomas, and then Saul) (Reply)

It wasn't often Peter actually took a planned lunch break. Planning things at the hospital was an exercise in futility. Inevitably Connie would consider it a good idea to run streaking past Bentley who would end up with a terrible nosebleed, or Paige would levitate something into someone's path and trip them, or someone would have a vision of impending doom that had to be dealt with right then and there. Peter had learned early on to avoid plans as much as possible, but some things couldn't be avoided. Patrick Finnegan was leaving the hospital to live in his own apartment and Peter wanted to sit with him for a meal. For that, he would make time and he actually believed by the time it was halfway through, that his plans would see themselves to the end.

They were not that lucky.

Patrick had asked Thomas to attend his little soiree in Peter's office as well. Thomas had spent a lot of time talking to Patrick about working through trauma. He had shared things about his own incarcerations both with the Templar and with Amaris. Patrick found him easy to talk to, which was hardly surprising. Thomas was easy to talk to. He was also a lot of fun to have around, which he was proving as Patrick hadn't been able to eat much of his lunch due to the fact that he was laughing so hard. Much of it at Peter's expense, not that he would ever mind.

"When you're through sharing your version of Adventures at the Monastery could you pass the brie please?" Peter asked Thomas wryly. They were seated on the floor of Peter's office sharing a sort of picnic together with sparkling cider.

Thomas handed it over with a wink. "Did I tell you about the time Peter shouted 'HOLY GHOST' during mass because I tickled his neck and he thought it was a spider?"

Patrick turned to Peter, looking shocked. "You can face demons who want to rip your insides out, but not spiders?"

"To be fair," Peter started as he carefully sliced brie onto four crackers, "I was twenty-something and hadn't faced any demons yet. Though that being said, I would probably do the same thing today, though I should hope I wouldn't be in the presence of any bishops I could end up offending."

"Really?" Patrick asked, his pale eyebrows still raised.

"Yes! Spiders are gross! Nothing needs that many legs!" he said with a shudder.

Thomas just shrugged and he popped a few grapes into his mouth. "So, Patty, are you going to have a house warming party? Maybe followed by a private house warming with your violin-playing boyfriend?"

Patrick turned a fairly significant shade of red and he promptly hid behind a napkin. "You're horrible!" he squeaked and Thomas chuckled.

"Hey, I'm just glad he isn't focusing on me," Peter admitted, bringing a cracker to his mouth. His office door opened with a bang so suddenly that he squawked and dropped his cracker, the cheese ending up on his knee. "Saul!?"

Saul Nagy, one of the men Peter trusted most and one of the leaders of the opposition to the Templar gave Peter an incredibly earnest look. Peter immediately felt his stomach tighten and he wished futilely that Patrick wasn't there. The poor man was only just moving on from his Templar-induced trauma. He had been living at the hospital for nearly a year now.

Peter stood, his slice of cheese falling to the floor unnoticed. "Saul, what is it?"

"Jerome hit us hard, Peter," he said, shaking his head sadly.

Peter had only been following the inner machinations of the fighting between the two factions of Dead Meat through what Saul reported to him. He wanted nothing to do with it. The reason Dead Meat existed was to defend people from the Templar. Saul's faction wanted it to stay that way. Jerome's faction had broken off because they believed to win this war they had to take the offence rather than simply cleaning up the Templar's mess. All this in-fighting just frustrated Peter. It took the attention away from the Templar and put it on hurting people they should be fighting with.

"What did he do?" Peter glanced to the side and he was glad to see Thomas was holding a terrified-looking Patrick's hand.

"He gave the Templar details of where our base of operations in Scotland was. They- shit, Peter, they fucking levelled the place. Dozens of our people died and they took an unlucky dozen or so more as prisoners. I can't even imagine what they're going to do to them. I hardly think they are going to think our men are worthy candidates for redemption. I guarantee you they'll burn them as heretics."

"Saul, does Jerome know where any other safe-houses are?"

"They're all moving as we speak. He won't get the jump on us again, but everyone is twitchy. Who knows if we have double-agents telling him where we are? And meanwhile the Templar have a bunch of our guys just waiting for their turn on the pyre."

Peter rubbed his eyes with his hands trying to think of any possible way they could help here. He couldn't very well leave the men who had saved him and his loved ones so many times with the Templar to die, could he? Absolutely not. And he had a feeling Saul had no intentions of leaving them there to die either.

They would have to deal with Jerome later. "Alright," Peter said, pulling his hands away from his face, which was suddenly firm and determined. "We need to find out where they are, and I have a feeling I know someone who can tell use. Get a team ready. I'll go speak to my guy, and then find Rolf and assemble a few of my own people. We'll do what we can, Saul." Peter reached out and he put a hand on Saul's massive shoulders. "I'm so sorry."

Saul shook his head, his teeth clenched. "Apologise later. I'll be in touch." He turned and stalked out of the office as Peter darted to find his mobile phone.

"Thomas, can you see Patrick safely home and find someone to spend the night with him if he would like?"

Patrick nodded quickly. "Patrick very much would like the company of someone strong and Templar-ready. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Peter said, breathlessly. "I need to speak to Gavin. I'm so sorry I couldn't finish lunch."

Thomas had stood and he clapped Peter on the back as Peter rushed towards the door.

"All in a day's work, eh, Pete."

Peter sighed as he hurried out of his office. Part of him longed for the days when he sat in mass and spent his mornings and evenings in prayer. He had been the director of the monastery choral group. It had been simple and easy and quiet.

Peter missed the quiet.