Recovering Lost Memories
Chapter 1 - Dreaming of You
"I can't let you go, Pete. I love you. If you go down, I'm coming with you."
Peter shot up in bed, gasping desperately for air. As he looked around the sparsely furnished room, he had to remind himself that he was alright, that he was in his apartment. His apartment, not yours. His brain chimed in, but Peter ignored it.
He swung his legs over the side of his bed and padded over to the kitchen. Quickly, downing and refilling his glass of water, the brunette considered pouring it over himself as he was hot and already drenched in sweat from his dream. He decided against it however, as he didn't quite feel up to cleaning up the mess the water was sure to make all over the floor and everywhere else it splash onto. He knew that if he were to just leave the water to dry on the floor, it would surely damage the wood floors, something else that he was sure to dislike.
In the last two weeks Peter had had more adventure and lived than most people could even imagine. He had met a girl who he could easily see himself spending the rest of his days with. He discovered he had super powers. He even went to the future, where he had unfortunately left the girl of his dreams. The last two weeks, Peter truly lived. They were the only two weeks he had ever lived. Having woken up in a different country without any memory to speak of, then to do such crazy things, it was no wonder was having these bizarre dreams.
The dreams, they were something else entirely. At first he honestly had no idea if they were memories or just random, like normal dreams. There was the same man that he had a photo with in his wallet that appeared in almost all of them. It was evident from his frequency in Peter's dreams that he was important, in his life and to him as well. Every time he looked at the photo of them together, smiling as though nothing could touch them, there was a dull aching in his chest. Peter found himself staring into the eyes of the other man and himself, recognizing either with his mind, but both with his heart and soul. Who was this man whose eyes never ended? Who made Peter feel happy at just seeing his image, yet sad for not having him there, with him?
"Who are you?" The stranger in the picture didn't reply. Peter blinked back tears, hating himself for getting weepy over something he had no control over. He was tired of being confused and worried and scared, always so damn scared. It wasn't just fear for the future, but fear of the past as well. He knew next to nothing about himself, other than his name and his powers (which he was still fairly clueless about) he was a stranger to himself. He ran a hand distractedly through his cropped hair and frowned.
"Pete, you really need to cut your hair. You look like a teenager for god sake!" the man from the photograph told him, mock sternness coating his voice.
"Oh, give it up Nathan; you love my hair in all its soft, long glory." Peter smiled at the familiar banter between them.
"Shut up," Nathan grinned back and lovingly ran his fingers through the chocolate strands. Peter closed in eyes and leaned into the gentle touch, relishing in the attention Nathan usually was too busy to give him. Nathan obliged and continued to stroke the younger man's head. Peter opened his eyes and looked up at Nathan, their eyes locking immediately. Nathan opened in mouth to say something important when—.
Peter choked for breath the second time that night, interrupting the sudden memory. Occasionally random bits and pieces from the past, most of them containing the stranger in the photograph. Nathan, his brain corrected, unless you called him the wrong name in that memory just now. Judging from the feelings he always got when he remembered Nathan and their interactions, they were very close, closer than friends at least. Most of his recollections of them together were in his apartment or in an expensive house, mansion really, he assumed was Nathan's house.
Peter looked around his large apartment which must have also been expensive, judging by its size and location. The furniture, though tasteful, didn't match at all and he had the sneaking suspicion that he was not their first owner. Not for the first time, Peter wondered what on Earth he did for a living and why he would live here. He had returned to his apartment the day before, finding his address on his ID. It was familiar to him while at the same time being entirely alien. It was strange to walk into his home and not recognize anything; it felt as if it belonged to someone else. He felt like he was living in somebody else's house and he shouldn't be here. When he went to bed earlier that night, even while his muscles relaxed into the soft cushion of his bed like greeting an old friend, his brain was still confused by everything.
He downed the rest of the water and placed the glass on his counter. Even if he wasn't entirely comfortable in his bed, he should at least try to get back to sleep. He used a paper towel to dry the glass and reached up to put it back in the unorganized cabinet when he heard something move. Peter stiffened and listened closely, catching the sound of jangling keys, trying to unlock his door. Peter wasn't sure if he was ready to see any of his old friends, to explain what happened to him. Quickly as he could, Peter ran to the door, arriving just as it was flung open. The door passed just an inch from his eyes, stunning him and making him flinch out of the way.
The man who opened the door stared back at his with unguarded astonishment. An empty bottle of gin, Peter could tell from the smell of the drunken man, though how he knew the smell was a mystery, slipped from his hand and landed with a harsh thud on the floor, thankfully not shattering. Dark eyes met his own and there was something familiar in that gaze. He knew that face somewhere, but he couldn't be sure of what exactly this man looked like behind his scruffy facial hair. Before Peter had much time to react at all, he was enveloped in a warm and familiar embrace. Dispite having no idea who this man was, or even if he was dangerous, Peter found himself wrapping his arms around him.
"Damn it Pete-how did you-is this real-thank god!" the stranger mumbled into the hollow of Peter's neck, "god damn it, Pete, I love you"
Author's Note:
Yay, I finished my first chapter of my first fan fiction! I can't deny that I'm two parts excited and two parts terrified. Please review if you liked it! And if you didn't like it then review and tell me what specifically was bad about it. If you find any parts confusing please tell me. I'm so nervous about this I don't know what to do! Also, since I only made an account a few days ago (I've been on here for years without one) I don't have a beta. So anyone who is willing to offer their services or point me in the right direction they will be greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading, the next chapter should be up in a few days!
Also, the first line is supposed to be from when Peter is about to explode at the end of season one. I know the actual conversation is shown in season two, but I needed a bit more angsty lovey stuff, hence my embellishing. Any guesses on the stranger who appeared, though I think it's fairly obvious...
One more thing! If you didn't get it in the beginning, when Peter kept saying "his apartment" it was supposed to show that he thinks of himself as a different person now that he lost his memories. Sorry for any confusion!
