darker_london | Aftermath (Peter/Deirdre) Rating: R (Reply)

Just as Peter had watched the windows lighten that morning, he was now watching the light fade. Deirdre was still cowering in the corner, though she was perfectly silent and still. Her wings had disappeared briefly sometime that afternoon and Peter had taken that as a sign that he could approach her. Deirdre had only stopped cowering long enough to twist around and punch him full in the face before her wings came back and threw him backwards. He hit the ground and groaned as a stabbing pain shot through his ribs. He was sure now that he'd broken one, not to mention he'd landed on his injured arm which began to bleed again. He had managed to crawl back to his spot against the wall where he was now slumped against the wall.

Peter knew he was slipping. It was taking all of his energy to just remain conscious. His head felt like it was ripping apart and the pain in his stomach made him think longingly of the food that Liz had put in the fridge for them. He wasn't even sure that he could MAKE it to the fridge anymore. Breathing was painful and each breath was shallower than the previous one. Large dark spots ocasionally danced before his eyes, making it hard to keep his eyes on Deirdre all the time. He shut them tightly as a significant wave of nausea washed over him. When he opened his eyes again, Deirdre was towering over him, her face covered in shadow. He couldn't see her eyes. Blackness was beginning to claim him and he felt himself being lifted off of the ground before he saw what was happening.

"Deirdre...please. Please don't...I can't...." and then he slipped into the darkness as he fainted dead away.

Peter woke to a sharp pain on his cheek. He opened his eyes slightly as Deirdre smacked him again. He tried to scramble backwards and realised that he was in the bed, propped up against some pillows. Deirdre breathed a sigh of relief and then looked down at the floor, guiltily.

"D...Deirdre?" He managed to croak, though his voice sounded weak and pathetic and he felt like a fool. She kept her eyes on the floor but handed him a glass of water. Peter hesitated and then reached for it, drinking it all down. She took the glass from him, and placed it on the floor and then she looked at him, her blue eyes full of regret. She reached a hand gingerly towards the red welt on his throat. Peter tried to pull away yet again, but there was nowhere to go. Deirdre didn't hurt him, however, she simply ran her finger carefully along it and then looked into his eyes as a tear ran down her face.

"I'm...I-" She put her hand over her mouth and started to cry. Peter watched her for a minute, and then, mustering as much energy as he could he held his arms out to her. She fell against him and he choked back a yelp as she curled her fingers in his bloodstained t-shirt and sobbed loud gasping sobs into his chest. Peter wrapped his arms around her and rested his head against hers, closing his eyes. They stayed there like that for quite a long time, until Deirdre started to calm herself, but still she clung to him. "Peter...I'm so sorry. I need you. I love you." She pulled away, sniffling.

Only then did Peter realise that his entire left arm was wrapped him white bandages. "You..did this?" Of course she had. There was no one else. She nodded. "Thank you." He said, looking down.

"It's..pretty bad, Peter. I- I don't know what to say..."

Peter cleared his throat which made his head feel like it was going to explode. "Ugh. Deirdre, you don't...you don't have to say anything. You...you should be proud."

"PROUD!?" Deirdre shrieked causing Peter to moan. "No...oh, Peter. I was just surprised is all." She reached out and touched his face carefully. It was starting to bruise where she'd hit him. "I almost killed you."

"You..didn't."

"I was going to, Peter. But then I heard you and I couldn't...and so I had to hide until I was sure I was safe again."

"Did...did I faint?" He asked softly, feeling a right tool.

"Yeah."

"How long..did I sleep?"

"About two hours. I'm sorry I woke you up, but I was afraid I wouldn't be able to."

All at once, the smell of something cooking reached Peter. "Is..is there food, Deirdre?"

"Hmm? Oh. Yes, I'll get some for you." Peter swallowed and closed his eyes and nodded. Deirdre ran to the kitchen and fetched him a bowl of the soup she'd been heating up. She got one for herself as well, because she knew he wouldn't eat it unless she did, stubborn thing he was. She pushed the bowl of soup into Peter's hands and he stared at it, vaugely wondering if he even had the energy to eat it. Somehow he managed and when it was gone, Deirdre had taken their bowls away. Then she sat on the edge of the bed and pushed his hair out of his eyes. "You should sleep, Peter."

Peter shook his head, though he wanted nothing more than to sleep. "I have to help you."

"I want you to help me. I need you to help me. But I'm not going anywhere...I can't. You'll help be better if you sleep. Please, Peter?" Peter wasn't sure he entirely trusted that Deirdre was well enough yet, but he was exaughsted. "I'll sleep too?"

"All right." He pushed himself down lower in the bed and he felt Deirdre curl up beside him. A second later, he was enveloped in her wings. He wasn't quite sure what she thought she was protecting him from, but the gesture was appreciated for the 45 seconds before he fell fast asleep.

When he awoke, the room was light again. He still felt like he'd been run over by a lorry, but his head was clear. He blinked against the brightness as he sat up. Deirdre had cleaned up the broken stereo and she'd turned the chair upright. She was now sitting in it, wearing very little clothing.

"Deirdre. Why are you...naked?"

Deirdre shook her head. "I am not NAKED, Peter! These are my pajamas."

Peter closed his eyes. "I...I don't...want to see them."

Deirdre jumped up to throw her clothes on. "Oh, like you haven't a seventeen year old girl naked before."

"Deirdre-"

"Sorry. Can I get you anything?" Deirdre asked, walking over to sit on the bed. Peter shook his head. "Peter...why...why did you do such a fucking stupid thing?"

A faint smile appeared on Peter's face. "It wasn't stupid."

"I had a knife to your throat."

"That's something I never want to remember again..." He paused. "But it wasn't stupid. I was right. You couldn't kill me."

"But what if I could have?!"

"Well then I would have been fucked. But I knew you wouldn't. I had faith in you."

Deirdre just looked at him. "You're crazy" she said, seriously.

"I am a bit, yeah. But not when it came to this. I did what I had to do. I didn't quite expect it to go as far as it did, but I knew something would happen. I knew the risks involved."

"So...so you're not going to avoid me forever and hate me and everything?"

Peter sighed and then looked her sraight in the eyes. "No, Deirdre. I love you."

"You...you do?"

Peter was incredulous. "Why else would I have DONE this?"

"To save everyone else?"

"That's part of it, but I did it for you. To save you. And I'll do it again, if I have to." Deirdre shook her head.

"Oh fuck no. No...I won't be sucking souls recreationally ANY more. Too many complications."

"And if you slip?"

"If I slip...if I slip I'll watch a DVD with my friends instead of locking myself away. I get it now, Peter. I was ashamed and so I hid. But I can't be anymore. What I did to you...what I ALMOST did to you. That's what will happen if I don't accept it. If I don't accept me." She reached her hand towards him and rested it on his knee. "Thank you."

"Of course, Deirdre."

"Now we should get you to a hospital. How do we get out of here?"

Peter smiled. "In your pocket."

"In my..." Deirdre reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a shiny silver key. "The key was in MY pocket the entire time?" Peter nodded. "W...WHY?"

"Because I'm corny and I was trying to prove a point."

"That point being?" Deirdre asked, her eyebrows raised.

"That you had the power with you to escape this all the time. Both the demon within and this room."

"You are corny. Come on. I'll take you out of here."