Shoot First or Get Shot

McRaider

Summary: Post ep Johari Window, Peter isn't always as strong as he looks or lets on. Sometimes he hates himself.

Author's Note: This isn't really meant to be OOC, but it probably is. I just don't think there are enough Walter Peter moments.

They arrived home late, Walter was still babbling about the stupid butterfly, so Peter was all too grateful when he was able to escape upstairs away from his father. He sighed heavily and lay down on his bed, his mind on the man he'd shot. He was someone's husband, Peter knew that much he'd seen the ring on the man's finger.

Peter awoke with a start, looking around the SUV, Olivia was bleeding, but breathing and otherwise unharmed, and his father was still sleeping soundly in the back. Peter groaned, until he heard a shot and ducked. He grappled for Olivia's gun.

"Peter are we there-" before Walter could finish his sentence a bullet landed directly between his lands.

"NO!"

Walter jumped from his place where he'd been eating downstairs at his son's scream. They'd only been home about an hour. He hurried up the stairs afraid what he might find. He hadn't expected to find his son fighting with an invisible enemy sobbing and screaming for Walter.

Walter hurried over and reached out, gently grasping his son's flailing hands, "Peter," he shook the younger man, who instantly jolted awake. Peter's blue gray eyes took a moment to focus on him, and then suddenly Peter was breaking away from Walter and running out of the room.

A second later Walter heard his son vomiting down the hall in their bathroom. He felt his heart go out to the young man. He'd taken Peter's side, Peter had done what he needed to do to protect them, and he deeply believed that. However, clearly true or not, this was haunting his son. He moved slowly down the hallway, allowing his son time to compose himself. When he pushed the door open he saw his son sobbing against the toilet bowl, sweat and tears mingling on his cheeks.

"Oh Peter," Walter murmured as he grabbed a wash cloth and wet it with cool water. He flushed the toilet, then closed the lid and sat down. Ever so gently he lifted his son's face up and began to wipe it down. "What is this all about, son?"

"I killed someone," he whispered, his voice rough from the vomiting earlier.

Walter nodded, "You did, but it was done out of self defense. Son, you are a good man."

"I just can't stop seeing him."

Walter smiled sadly, "You always tried to make your mother and I believe you were stronger than you really were. My dear boy. You do not always have to show how strong you are. Sometimes it is all right to show how hard something is for you."

Peter shook his head. "What if I start and I can't stop."

Walter caressed his son's cheek, "Then you will have those who love you here to help you cope. Come now, I think you could use something to eat. I can make you a sandwich."

"Walter," Peter stood, looking at his father. The two Bishops stared at one another for a long moment while Peter considered his words and tried to gather strength to get this out. "When you were kidnapped last week...I felt terrified, and guilty because I felt like it was my fault. If you had died..." Peter looked down, "If I had lost you, I don't know what I would've done."

Walter stepped forward and pulled his son into his arms. The two men leaned on one another, each lost in their own fears from the past two weeks.

The End