This is a future chapter for one of my WIP’s. My problem is I don’t know how to get from where I am now to here, so I decided to work backwards. I was up until 3 in the morning writing this and finished it earlier today.
I blame Ambre for waking up the reunion lover inside of me and inspiring me to finally get this out of my head.
I haven’t proof read this even once, but I already know there’s a lot I want to fix.
(don’t read this if you’re not Kayla.)
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It was a good thing the moon was so bright that night, or there would have been no light at all. The way the water was illuminated almost made it look dream like. Appropriate; given that was how she felt. She hadn’t been back here in years, and this was her last chance to change things…
Peter’s eyebrows raised off of his face at his fiancée’s bluntness. He honestly wasn’t sure what to answer with.
"What exactly do you mean?"
"Just answer the question."
His brow furrowed.
"Yeah… I do. Yeah. But I don’t know if we can really have them."
"Huh? What do you mean? Would work get in the way too much?"
"Well, yeah, probably. But that’s not what I mean. It’s… between me being from an alternate universe, and the Cortexiphan in your bloodstream, we might not even be able to make a child. Scientifically…"
He droned off about how it would probably be impossible for the two of them to ever have children.
I was trying to find a cool title, but failed. Oh well.
This is how I deal with season 4. Denial. Lots of it. I decided to ignore the evidences, and pretend Peter is making it back to Olivia. How, I don’t know, he just does XD Don’t ask me for a plot, all I had was fluff and some vague smuttiness. Ignore the typos, please :D
And hopefully, enjoyyyyyy XD
The vibrations of the car alone make it hard for Peter to stay conscious.
On top of these, there is also the soft rocking sound of the rain falling more and more forcefully on the taxi, as it brings him closer and closer to Boston. And he’s not even mentioning the regular sweeeeep-sweeeeep-sweeeeep of the wipers on the windshield, that his eyes follow like a metronome.
It’s a miracle he’s still awake…or alive, for that matter.
Even though his driver has stopped asking him if he’s sure he doesn’t need to go to a hospital a while ago now, Peter can still see him throwing nervous glances into his mirror every five minutes or so, surely making sure he’s still alive back there. It makes him wish he had sat on the other side, so that he could hide from his view. But changing seat would mean unbuckling himself, actually moving again, and then he would have to buckle himself one more time…it would be wasting too much of what little is left of his energy, to be honest.
And so he just sits there, temple pressed upon the cold window, shivering against the door. He’s not shivering as much as he is shaking, really, despite the fact that he knows the heat is turned all the way up, now. Even through the darkness, every time lights from passing cars beam on his driver’s face, Peter can see the sweat on his skin.
He knows the poor guy must be seriously regretting taking this fair. But Peter has the money; he has dropped the heap of one hundred dollars bills into the man’s hand just after entering the car, giving him the address without waiting to be asked.
The thought of seeing her again is the only thing keeping him from giving in to his exhaustion and pain, even though he hardly allows himself to hope as much as he wants to. He has learned the hard way -and on several occasions now, that just because something looks familiar, it does not mean they are the same. But he has to be in the right place, this time.
He has to be.
He came back into this world like he generally does. Falling into the Reiden Lake.
And once again, he had been completely naked. Someone or something up there must be enjoying this a little too much.