The Clever Coward

“Of course I am.” Peter grumbled, pushing himself up on his hands and trying to get back to his feet. Then his leg gave way and he collapsed ungracefully back onto his face. 

Ow. 

“Very well.” Peter agreed sullenly, still unhappy both at the necessity of accepting her help and at the spectacular fall and the laughter it had occasioned. He turned his good foot in the direction she’d specified without further comment. It was barely past mid afternoon, his internal clock told him, and yet the forest made it seem dark. 

“How far do you judge it to be?” he asked, after a few minutes of stumbling around and gritting his teeth at every movement that jarred his injured leg. He hated being weak.  

“Not sure, maybe another five minutes at this pace?” It was a bit of a lowball estimate, but granted it was even ground more or less there wasn’t uphill slowdown or downhill speed up. Best guess she had. 

“Of course I am.” Peter grumbled, pushing himself up on his hands and trying to get back to his feet. Then his leg gave way and he collapsed ungracefully back onto his face. 

Ow. 

Peter glowered and winced, both at her laughter and the word ‘dweeb.’ What kind of word was that? But he didn’t resist as she dragged him to his feet. Clearly, he wasn’t going to be getting up on his own. 

“And where do you suggest we go?” he demanded grumpily, pain throbbing through his calf as he tried again to put weight on it. Not broken, he decided, but not good either. He leaned a little harder on Moon’s shoulder, though he tried not to give her so much that she’d fall. Both of them hurt would do them no good. 

“Dunno, we’re a little too far into the woods to make a straight shot to the van without chancing trouble.” But all the same Peter was in no position to keep up their investigation for the day. The last traces of her grin vanished, considering what they needed to do.

“Of course I am.” Peter grumbled, pushing himself up on his hands and trying to get back to his feet. Then his leg gave way and he collapsed ungracefully back onto his face. 

Ow. 

Anita ‘Moon’ Bishop was not a better person. her laugh was louder than she even expected but wow...It was just so perfect!

“You are entitled to your own opinion on the matter, I suppose.” Peter muttered grudgingly, red eyes focused on the middle distance instead of the plate of food on the table before him- which he had yet to touch. 

In his experience, love was something all-encompassing and complete, blinding the victim to all but the object of their passion. What Moon called ‘infatuation’ was what he knew as love. Perhaps the two concepts worked differently in the different worlds. Maybe that was why Alice seemed so…cautious and cool with him. 

“Love is… Putting all the needs of the one you care for before any of the needs of yourself.” he said simply, after a long pause. It was, after all, what he tried again and again to do for Alice, and was in the end too weak to do. He was not strong enough to isolate himself completely from her in order to allow her to forget. The weakness of an unnecessary being, wishing to be wanted. 

“You are entitled to your own opinion on the matter, I suppose.” Peter muttered grudgingly, red eyes focused on the middle distance instead of the plate of food on the table before him- which he had yet to touch. 

In his experience, love was something all-encompassing and complete, blinding the victim to all but the object of their passion. What Moon called ‘infatuation’ was what he knew as love. Perhaps the two concepts worked differently in the different worlds. Maybe that was why Alice seemed so…cautious and cool with him. 

“I believe,” he commented dryly, finally choosing to turn and lead her from the floor with the muscle of his arm tight beneath her hand, “That giving into my desire to murder the room at large would be rather counterproductive.” And he’d rather be productive and get home faster, even if it cost him the expenditure of a great deal of effort in order to keep his gun in its clock shape. 

SEND ME ┼ FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION TO WALKING IN ON YOUR MUSE8. Having a mental breakdown

Peter curled into the back corner of the can, clutching his head in his hands. Moon had gone out for- something or other; he didn’t even care- while he’d been sleeping. He didn’t even know how long she’d been gone. He’d woken only a short time before, from a dream of his beloved Alice, and realized with sudden sharpness that there was a chance- a very good chance- that he would never see her again. The one person who had ever cared, who had ever mattered to him, and he might never be able to go home to her.Even if he did, who was to say she hadn’t already forgotten him? It would be better for her, that way, but- 

Peter shook his head, refusing the knowledge, refusing to accept what she seemed to be trying to convey. He wasn’t important, not to HABIT, not to her.  

She doesn’t love me like Alice. No one can love me like Alice. No one ever can. 

His finger tightened on the trigger, and for a moment, a single split-second tick of his clock, he was sure he was going to shoot her. 

No. Moon doesn’t love you. But she does care. 

His arm fell as though he could no longer support it, the gun still clutched with a white-knuckled grip at his side. A single tear tracked down one pale cheek, but he refused to look away. 

Oh...she should have known that fate wasn’t kind enough to have let her die after she’d done what was keeping her going. sheshouldhaveknownsheshouldhaveknownonetwitchandshe’dbeasplatter

And then his arm fell down with the lightest of thumps. She listened through her quick breaths, trying not to heave in a sort of primal relief. Her arms trembled as she started to reach out again. Tears started to stud her own eyes, but from a very different cause.

She held him steady with one hand on his shoulder and slowly reached up to brush away his tears, the heel of her palm carefully covered with her hoodie sleeve.

SEND ME ┼ FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION TO WALKING IN ON YOUR MUSE8. Having a mental breakdown

Peter curled into the back corner of the can, clutching his head in his hands. Moon had gone out for- something or other; he didn’t even care- while he’d been sleeping. He didn’t even know how long she’d been gone. He’d woken only a short time before, from a dream of his beloved Alice, and realized with sudden sharpness that there was a chance- a very good chance- that he would never see her again. The one person who had ever cared, who had ever mattered to him, and he might never be able to go home to her.Even if he did, who was to say she hadn’t already forgotten him? It would be better for her, that way, but- 

HABIT had… chosen him? Because he was best suited to…guide, her? But…That was contrary to everything he’d been told. Everything he’d been led to believe about his presence in this world. 

“I was chosen because of my clock.” he retorted, though less certain now. Her words made sense, on some level that the angry, scared part of his brain, the part that kept insisting that all would be better off if he killed himself, didn’t want to acknowledge. 

She wouldn’t chance touching him again without it at least a little bit down, but she was helping, somehow she was. He wasn’t responding to her subject change, but he was listening.  And hey, escapism was what she did best, and even if it was through memories that were a bit painful to dredge up, she supposed it was worth it.

SEND ME ┼ FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION TO WALKING IN ON YOUR MUSE8. Having a mental breakdown

Peter curled into the back corner of the can, clutching his head in his hands. Moon had gone out for- something or other; he didn’t even care- while he’d been sleeping. He didn’t even know how long she’d been gone. He’d woken only a short time before, from a dream of his beloved Alice, and realized with sudden sharpness that there was a chance- a very good chance- that he would never see her again. The one person who had ever cared, who had ever mattered to him, and he might never be able to go home to her.Even if he did, who was to say she hadn’t already forgotten him? It would be better for her, that way, but- 

“It doesn’t matter.” he said, to both her and himself, voice stark. “Anyone from my world could have accomplished that task.” his free hand rose, pressing against his chest over where his clock ticked mechanically beneath his skin. “I myself am not necessary for your survival. Your HABIT can simply take another when I am gone.” That same hand dropped back to his side.

“I don’t think so.” If anything she felt full confidence in this answer. “I think HABIT chose you specially. I was at a bit of a tipping point, and if anything came on too hard or loudly with anything but the end goal in mind It probably would have sent me over the edge, so he picked you. Not much one for distractions and goal oriented enough to keep me on task.” HABIT doesn’t do things at random. If there was one thing that she learned in grudgingly accepting the madman’s help it was that everything was for a reason.

She started to think back on her conversations with Peter, there was something he’d said once.. when he was first telling her about his world. Something about Sunday in the afternoon?

SEND ME ┼ FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION TO WALKING IN ON YOUR MUSE8. Having a mental breakdown

Peter curled into the back corner of the can, clutching his head in his hands. Moon had gone out for- something or other; he didn’t even care- while he’d been sleeping. He didn’t even know how long she’d been gone. He’d woken only a short time before, from a dream of his beloved Alice, and realized with sudden sharpness that there was a chance- a very good chance- that he would never see her again. The one person who had ever cared, who had ever mattered to him, and he might never be able to go home to her.Even if he did, who was to say she hadn’t already forgotten him? It would be better for her, that way, but- 

Shoot her. What does she matter? She’s just another pointless existence. Just another meaningless life. Just like you.

His shaking intensified, so badly that his finger twitched on the trigger of the gun, not quite pulling back. He wanted to shoot her. To shoot himself. For everything to just…end. He wanted…to see Alice again. To have one person who cared. 

Just one twitch, the flick of a finger and she’d be a splatter on the inside of the van, that’s all it took that’s all it took, that’s all it took for Anya in the bathtub too. Why is the taking of a life as easy as the curl of a finger?

One of her hands darted down to her side, squeezing the blankets in her grasp so tightly she distantly worried they may shred under her fingernails. Her grey eyes darted to Peter’s red for a moment as he spoke. He... honestly looked like he was about to cry. Part of her fear started to melt at that. She could handle this, she could.

She couldn’t speak for Alice, so telling him he as wrong about her being happier wouldn’t work, and she couldn’t speak for anyone of where he was from, so ‘everything’ wouldn’t work either.