A Note From Lara- Sorry, I know. I've been FFn MIA for awhile. Again. Blame course-work and a resurgence of my Doctor Who obsession. I started rewatching series 3, and suddenly all my computer time seemed to be devoted to watching Martha and the Doctor kick some massive ass together. (I LOVE MARTHA JONES!! SO AWESOME!!) So I just thought I'd write some oneshot-type things to get my fanfic juices flowing again. Updates on SOS and Resistance will be forthcoming.

-For the World-

It had started out as a very ordinary, boring day. Well, as ordinary or boring as any day was anymore. The life of a paramedic in New York City was difficult enough, but when said paramedic was trying to do his job without revealing to his coworkers that he was actually a member of a recently revealed strain of superhuman individuals... well, that complicated things even further. Peter was exhausted.

He had a few minutes between shifts, and he had stepped outside, using the opportunity to catch his breath and take in a few lungfuls of (relatively) clear air.

Then his cell phone had rung and he had picked up to discover Claire on the other line. His niece had apparently wanted to "just catch up." She had wanted to talk a lot since the Central Park Debacle, as she had taken to calling it. Peter had acquiesced to her request, figuring a few minutes of conversation with someone who wasn't furious with her was the least he could do. But he had started to regret it when suddenly the topic of conversation shifted.

"So, um, how's Emma been lately?" Claire asked. "That was her name, right? Emma?"

"Yeah, that's right," Peter replied cautiously. "She- ah- she's been good, I guess."

"You guess?" Claire parroted, sounding surprised.

Despite the lack of visual contact, Peter shrugged. "Haven't seen a lot of her lately. She's taking time off from her job at the hospital, so we don't see each other as often." And yes, he added to himself, that grated on him. He missed having someone to share his lunch breaks with, or just someone to talk with during a slow period. He missed her.

Claire hesitated for a long moment before saying, "But aren't you guys... like, together?"

Now that was a good question, Peter thought to himself. There was no denying that he wanted to be with her. He'd had a very long, very solitary five years to dwell on her, and he had come to honestly realize that the only thing about the world outside the mind-prison that he actually missed that much was Emma. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure that ship had sailed the minute he had put his foot in his mouth the day he first saved her life.

"No," he told Claire, "We're not."

"Oh." Her voice sounded very surprised. "From the way you two were with each other that night, I thought..."

They had already been on this subject for too long. Thinking too much about it was unexpectedly painful. "You're seeing things," he said gruffly. "I mean, I care about her, but we're friends, you know?"

Claire snorted. "Not likely," she said. "I know you, Peter. I know what it looks like when you're just there being somebody's hero. You were looking at this girl like... like you were dying and she was an angel who saved your life. And trust me when I say that she's not looking at you like 'just a friend' either."

Peter sighed. "Claire, drop it," he warned.

"No way. I want you to be happy."

"Then make me happy by just leaving this alone, okay?" he responded a little more harshly than he'd meant to. "It sucks, but Emma and I are just friends and that's how it's got to be."

Claire hesitated, then said, "I'm supposed to be the emotionally damaged, can't-hold-together-a-relationship one, Peter. What is it that you're so afraid of? Rejection? Because trust me when I say that if the way that she looked at you that night was any indication, that's not even a possibility."

"I'm toxic in relationships," Peter said bluntly, desperate to end the conversation right now.

"What?"

"I've had a grand total of zero serious relationships," he explained, voice hot with a swirl of emotions he couldn't put names to. "No girlfriends in high school, nothing serious in college. I fell for this girl a few years back, but she wasn't willing to commit and then she died because of me. Then I had a weird thing with this woman in Ireland and she got trapped into an apocalyptic future that never actually came to pass... again, because of me. Every time I get close to someone, they end up dead. I can't... I can't lose Emma, too."

Silence on the other end of the line. Then, quietly: "Oh, Peter."

There was another long pause, during which he briefly contemplated hanging up. Then Claire said, "Life is short, Peter. Not for me, but for you... it is. You haven't got a lot of time, and you have to make the most of it. I waited too long to tell someone how I felt, and by the time I did, I'd lost he... them. Don't make that mistake. The past doesn't have to be the precedent for the future. If you want to be with her, then go to her, talk to her, tell her how you feel!"

It had been too much for Peter to hear, and he had hung up abruptly, without saying goodbye. He'd have to apologize for that later, he knew. He'd spent the rest of his shift trying to block the thing she'd said- and the incongruous flicker of hope they had kindled- out of his head. It hadn't worked.

So here he was, at eight-thirty at night, standing outside Emma Coolidge's door.

He rang her alarm and waited with nervous impatience. After a minute or two, she answered the door dressed in sweatpants and a rumpled T-shirt. To him, she looked beautiful.

Without second thought or hesitation, he stepped forward, took her in his arms, and kissed her fiercely. Almost immediately she responded, pressing herself closer to him and twining her arms around his neck. He brought a hand up to the side of her face, caressing her skin gently as he deepened the kiss.

He wasn't sure how long it lasted- maybe a minute, maybe an hour, maybe just a few seconds- but when they broke apart he was pleased to see a look of stunned happiness on her face rather than disbelief or disgust. If her response to his kiss hadn't been enough reassurance, the breathless, delighted smile on her face would have been more than enough.

"Hi," he said, and was embarrassed to hear how his husky voice cracked on the word. He was suddenly a little bit grateful she hadn't heard that particular sound.

"Hi," she responded, and her grin widened. "You know, we never did have that lunch."

Remembering their first real conversation, Peter nodded. A sense of contentment enveloped him and when she stepped aside to allow him into her apartment, he realized that, no matter his fears about this, he wouldn't be anywhere else right now for the world.

I was exhausted when I wrote this. If it makes no sense, I apologize. I have a better one planned for... sometime tomorrow? Depends on when I get it written up. *sigh*