A/N: For Scifiland's prompt challenge. Prompt quote: He's been dreaming and not sleeping, on a road not meant for traveling.
Throwing his bag on the couch, an exhausted Peter scanned the overtly cheerful room. Three days straight on the road and the pain of learning the truth still hadn't receded; nor had the pain from his injuries. The lack of sleep, coupled with the miserable weather, concussion, and bruised ribs finally culminated in a need to stop running - if only for a couple of hours in order to rest.
Spotting the pile of newspapers on the porch of the rural house had been a sign. Since leaving the hospital, lack of funds – not to mention access to them - limited his options considerably. With the FBI, Homeland Security, and Massive Dynamic no doubt pulling all the stops to find him, being traced was the one problem he most couldn't afford. An empty house meant temporary refuge. He needed to heal a bit more before returning to the search for a new place he might finally feel secure enough to settle in for more than a day or two.
To his dismay, once picking the lock and entering the house he immediately realized it was more than an empty building: it was a home. Worse, a happy home. Even if one ignored the bright colors, well worn furniture, and toys scattered around, they couldn't ignore the explosion of family pictures lining the walls, mantles, and book shelves. Numb, he picked one up and studied the laughing family beaming back at him. Deliberately covering the father with his thumb, he gazed at the smiling mother with her arm around her two adorable children. Peter let the overwhelming sense of loss wash over him. It was simply too exhausting to fight anymore.
As the rain and wind pounded outside, Peter knew he couldn't escape in order to find some place more suited to his desolation. This place would have to make do for now. It had food, shelter, and - according to the calendar on the refrigerator – would be empty until the vacationing family returned in two more days. Wearily, he made his way to the master bedroom, crossed the plush carpeting, and sank down on the floral bedspread in the depressingly upbeat room.
In the end, it wasn't the quiet, but the potential for sound that hurt the most.