Crossroads
By alaricnomad
Part 1 of 6: Finding Home
Author's Notes: For the life of me, I can't remember why I took this down in the first place. Maybe I wanted to rework it, but four kids later, that's not happening. So here we go.
Peter/Claire. A different take on the start of S2, Peter's capture and amnesia.
xx
Cold hands clamped over her mouth, unyielding arms wrapping around her and locking her back against the figure holding her. The scenario was familiar, and she knew it was fruitless to fight- not with the heavy male body holding her captive.
She was indestructible; she knew that fact as well as she knew her name, so imagine her shock as a needle suddenly dug into the back of her neck, hitting a spot connected straight to her spinal cord that even she could not dissuade.
The world went black.
xx
"What's your name?"
Her voice broke softly through his reflections and he lifted his head to regard the young blonde girl standing before him. He tilted his head as he studied her curiously, his lips curling into a regretful smile, "I don't know."
She nodded sympathetically; she knew what that situation was like. "Do they call you something?"
"Mimic."
She shook her head, stepping toward him to take a seat at his side on the floor, "We'll have to think of something else to call you."
He briefly smiled, looking at her curiously. "So you don't remember anything either?"
"Nope."
They fell into an uneasy quiet until she awkwardly shifted, clearing her throat before stating, "I heard them talking in the hallway. I think my name's Claire."
"Claire…" He gave her a crooked smile, "That's a beautiful name."
Claire blushed prettily, "Thank you." He only smiled once more in response, the pair falling into an easy, companionable silence as they leaned back against the concrete wall of their shared cell.
She shivered in sudden realization of the chill belonging to the room they were being held in, and he glanced at her, concern etched into his handsome features, "Cold?"
"Yeah, a little," she admitted shyly, ducking her head down to stare at the floor. He smiled at the bashfulness she displayed. She really was a beautiful girl. Sweet and golden, petite and softly curvy with such pretty green eyes and such a lovely smile.
He couldn't quite guess her age, estimating at the most a college freshman. Maybe it was just wistful thinking on his part: she was younger than him, that much was certain. He didn't want to make things worse by crushing on a vulnerable teenager.
"You look worried," Claire scooted a little closer to him, lightly placing her hand over his, "You shouldn't. Smile instead. It's such a handsome smile."
Feeling warmth in his face he would never admit to, he granted her request as he smiled again, gently wrapping an arm around her to share his body heat.
Claire leaned against his side and he rested his head against hers, closing his eyes as he breathed in the soft scent of lavender.
Maybe a little crush wouldn't hurt.
xx
If there was one thing Claire came to know, it was that her cellmate was a stubborn fool.
He refused to show the guard who watched over them any act of submission or humility, and his idiotic defiance earned him a strike or two or ten in retaliation. On one particular afternoon that changed everything between them, she found him being thrown lifelessly to the floor of their prison, regarded with one last disgusted sneer before the guard slammed the door shut behind him, the clang of the bolt being pushed into place echoing through the heavy steel.
She was dabbing at his broken lip with a corner of her jacket, dampened with the water left over from breakfast, when he finally came to. He stared up into the worried green eyes peering down at him and he whispered quiet apologies, reaching up to wipe away the tears sliding down her precious face.
"Idiot," was her equally low-in-tone response and her lips found his. She tasted the metallic tang of his blood against her tongue as she kissed him, as he returned the contact despite the pain, relishing instead in the heat of her sweet mouth against his.
The heat burned him from the inside out, and he wondered by the sensation felt so hauntingly familiar.
xx
He laid there on the floor once more a couple of weeks later. As he stared sightlessly at the ceiling, swollen eyes still feeling the imprint of fists as his vision blurred in and out, his thoughts idly wandered in a way that he wondered if he could have possibly hit his head.
"Can you hear me…?"
The words broke through the fog of confusion and weariness that grasped his mind in its smothering hold. He recognized that voice, clear as the ringing of bells, just as surely as his mind registered the familiarity of the light, floral scent that filled his nostrils and the slender arms that slipped around him, supporting his body as he tried to lift up before collapsing back completely all over again.
Her face hovered just beyond his vision, contorted into an expression of pained concern. He noticed dully that she was worrying her lower lip, something she did when nervous or disconcerted.
A cool, soft hand pressed to his forehead, smoothing back his sweat-soaked hair. "What do you think you're doing? You keep pushing them like that and you'll get yourself killed."
He tried to manage a laugh, wincing at the pain it caused his bruised ribs.
"Me. Nah."
"Don't joke," he could hear the thickness of tears in her tone, the quiver in her voice and guilt filled him. He leaned upward, sweeping a hand through her hair as he apologetically whispered her name.
"Claire, I'm sorry, sweetheart. So sorry."
He leaned forward, his intentions clear and Claire placed a hand on his chest to stop him, "Don't. Your injuries…"
"We'll take it slow."
His lips met hers and the kiss was sweet, soft as a whisper and gentle as the brush of a spring breeze. His hands slowly lifted the t-shirt she wore, slowly sliding off her shorts, baring delightfully bare skin to his eyes, calloused hands caressing her as reverently as if kneeling in a church.
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, Claire's hands tangling in his short hair to hold him closer, nimble fingers stroking gently against his scalp, lips nibbling at his ear.
"Mmm…"
He wrapped his arm around her hips, hauling her to him and he kissed her once more, ardent in his passion, "I haven't felt anything like this before, Claire. You feel like home."
She slipped her arms around his neck, reaching to free him of his jeans, "Then come home to me now."
Lowering her to the floor, sinking into the warmth of her, he did just that. And in the slow throes of making love to her, his surrender of his restless soul so sublimely complete, he felt the spark of something awakening inside, kindling to life.
Afterward, Claire languorously stroked his back, sweat-soaked skin sleek beneath her fingertips, catching sight of his disconcerted expression, "What is it?"
He pressed a kiss to her neck, "Look."
Following his gaze, Claire's eyes widened a split second later as the lovebite she'd left on his shoulder disappeared, the bruises from the guard's earlier assault fading just as quickly. Looking down at herself, she found equally unblemished skin despite the hickeys she was certain she would find along her breasts at the memory of his questing mouth, "My God, what the…?"
"I don't know." His brow furrowed with worry, "I just don't know."
He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly him. Claire nestled closer into the warmth of his body, pressing her ear to his chest to feel the steady rise and fall of his breath. Quiet filled the room, but both knew that neither of them would sleep that night.