Time after Time
By JeantheGuardian
Spoilers : Degrassi, season 9 Premiere "Just Can't Get Enough".
Summary: What if Peter made a different long distance call when he was high on meth? Darcy returns to help Peter kick the habit. But will she be enough to save him?
Pairings: Basically, it's a Peter/Darcy. (PARCY)
Disclaimer: I own nothing here. Not lyrics, not characters, nothing. Don't sue.
Feedback: Please and thank you!
PART 2 - You Found Me
I found God
On the corner of First and Amistad
Where the west
Was all but won
All alone
Smoking his last cigarette
I said, Where you been?
He said, Ask anything.
Where were you
When everything was falling apart?
All my days
Were spent by the telephone
That never rang
And all I needed was a call
It never came
To the corner of First and Amistad
In the end
Everyone ends up alone
Losing her
The only one whos ever known
Who I am
Who Im not, and who I want to be
No way to know
How long she will be next to me
Lost and insecure
You found me, you found me
Lying on the floor
Surrounded, surrounded
Whyd you have to wait?
Where were you, where were you?
Just a little late
You found me, You found me
- The Fray, "You Found Me"
Peter's POV
Head feels like… it weighs a thousand tons. Still freezing. Why am I so damn hungry? Skin's on fire…God, what I wouldn't do for another hit —
NO! Can't do it. That's what got me here in the first place.
How the heck did I get on the floor? Wasn't I on the bed when I fell asleep? Was I ever asleep? Or is this all one bad dream?
I even dreamt I called Darcy…how messed up is that? God, I really need help.
The sound of footsteps interrupts my scattered thoughts. I let out an audible groan as I wrap the comforter around me.
"Go away…Spinner," I groan, finding it too hard to hold a simple sentence together. "Don't want to…talk to…anyone right now."
A brief moment of silence follows before he speaks. "Told you he was a mess. We had to wrestle him down last night before we finally got him to sleep."
"Sure, Spin," I grumbled. "Tell everyone how…methhead Pete's a…screw-up…and how."
I hear Spinner huffing as he says, "Dude, look –"
More silence follows before I hear another voice. A softer, gentler, female voice.
"Could you just give us a moment, Spinner? Please?"
I feel my face frown in confusion. That voice…so familiar…Mia? No, can't be…it almost sounds like…
"I'll be right out here if you need me," I hear Spinner say before he closes the door.
For a few seconds, I'm scared, as I don't see anyone from my spot on the floor, looking up from my bed.
"Whoz'ere?", the questions slurs from my lips, intending to come out as "Who's there?" but failing miserably.
I hear more footsteps, and I weakly look up to see the worried look on a beautiful face I've only seen in my dreams for the last four months.
My thoughts ping-pong between "Please don't let this be a dream" to "Oh, God, please kill me now. Don't let her see me like this" and even "Wow…I must really be strung out."
I briefly lick my lips, my eyes wide in surprise. "Darcy?"
A small, but beautiful smile crosses her pretty face. "Hey."
I shake my head sharply. Is this a dream? "Are…are you…real?"
I see her chocolate brown eyes fill with worry as she bites her lip, a gesture she often did whenever she was concerned. "Gosh, Peter…what happened?"
She has to be real. She's the only person I've ever met who still uses 'Gosh' as part of her daily vocabulary.
I let loose a small chuckle at the thought.
Within moments, she's on the floor with me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, pulling me up and into her arms.
In my delirium and my need – my need to make sure she's real and not some drug-induced delusion – I bury my face into her soft shoulder, losing myself in the sweet, familiar, yet intoxicating scent of her. She smells like some kind of wildflower…and candy…Mia smelled nice, but only Darcy's scent could make me feel more exhilarated than all the meth in the world ever could.
Darcy…she's here. Really here. How is this possible?
"You're…here," I whisper. "Why are you…here?"
I take comfort in the gentle caress of her fingers in my hair. "You called, remember?"
It wasn't a dream. A hallucination.
Darcy's really here.
Darcy's POV
"You…came back."
I nod, holding him against me. His eyes are baggy, his forehead's damp with sweat and his skin is flushed and dry. His normally smooth speech is slurred, choppy. His face…it looks like he's going to pass out on me at any moment.
Is it weird that even as an obvious wreck that he's still the most handsome boy I've ever seen? I've never thought a boy could be beautiful until I met Peter Stone.
"We made a promise, remember?" I whisper. I feel him shivering violently against me. I'm not sure if it's the cold or the drugs, or something else. I gently lower his head into my lap, trying to get him in the most comfortable position possible.
I can't tell how long we sit in silence after that. I think we're probably just drinking in the sight, the presence of each other's company. Lord knows I never thought I would be in this position ever again, led alone 12 hours ago.
My fingers just run through the tangled locks of his blonde hair, gently comforting him. He reaches up and gently kisses my free hand, and the sparks on my skin send a jolt through me.
Then I hear him humming a strained, off-key but pretty melody, though his eyelids are drooping.
"Memories of you and me, tumble inside my head,
the way that we used to be, things that we said,
No one has ever made me believe so strong,
You left me to wonder, how did our love go wrong?"
I gasp softly, recognizing the lyrics. It was an old Richard Marx song called "Angelia". I love that song. I remember telling Peter as much. It was just such a beautiful song. But hearing it from Peter's lips makes me want to cry. It is, after all, a song about love gone wrong, lovers turned strangers…is that what we've become, Peter? Are we strangers now? Are you the same boy I fell in love with? Or have the months I've been away been like years between us? Changed us both so much?
Just look at what's happening to you right now…
"Why are you singing that?" I ask him in a hushed tone.
A faint smile crosses his lips. "Thought you…liked that…song. Richard…Marx, right?"
I offer a smile back. "I'm not much for that song right now. But thanks for remembering."
His trademark smirk, albeit a weak one, comes on his face. "I could sing…"Shared Custody"…for you. Now that's…a jam."
Despite the gravity of the situation, I can't help but to laugh a little bit. Classic Peter Stone. Even crashing from a drug binge, he's still Mr. Charming.
His blue eyes meet mine in a piercing, soulful stare. "Missed this…missed…you…"
Please, God, don't let me start crying. I have to be strong for him. He needs me. "I missed you, too."
He suddenly shifts to his side, his head still in my lap. "Hrmm…Th-thirsty…"
I grab the water bottle on the floor, next to the bed. Twisting the cap off, I hold the clear plastic bottle to his lips. "Drink this. It'll help."
He nods, gratefully, before he eagerly drinks the water from the bottle in my hand. And how weird is it that I find this incredibly romantic?
"So…how's Africa?" he mutters, rubbing his hands along his arms to warm himself.
I shrug, casually. "Hot."
"So that's…why…you left," he smiles mischievously, though he looks like a shadow of his handsome former self. "Couldn't take…Canadian winter…a.k.a. the best… 9 months… of the year, eh? Wuss."
I shouldn't be laughing, but the giggle escapes my lips before I can stop it. I can't help it. Whenever I'm around him, he can't stop making me smile.
"So," I say, tangling my fingers in his dirty blonde hair. "How've things been?"
A stupid question, I know, given the situation. But anything's better than just silence.
His eyes grow distant, his head turning slightly in my lap. "Ah, you know…same crap…as usual. Mom…Regina, Dad…might as well be on…moon…Oh, and hey…turns out…I'm…a methhead….Even…Mia…said so herself."
I stiffen at the mention of that name. Despite a serious case of the green-eyed monster coming up in me, I smother that feeling into the most casual tone I can muster. "So…how is Mia?"
He scoffs, bitterly. "Paris."
My eyebrows rise. "Seriously?"
He nods, reaching up to eagerly scratch his neck. "Turns out…she got a…modeling contract. Apparently…the contract is such…a big deal…she even dumped me after…photoshoot…when I took…another hit of…meth. Probably took…next…flight out."
My insides freeze. "She left you while you were high?"
His laugh is hollow, mirthless. "Yeah. Guess she's too good to…stick around…with little old me…even when I need…help."
The shock throws me completely. Mia knew about this? Knew about his addiction? And she left him alone to go to Paris? While he was high on meth? If something terrible had happened to him, there would've been no one around to help… I feel my anger boiling in my veins, until a small groan of pain escapes his lips.
My heart aches for him as I continue to cradle his head. "Peter, I…I'm so sorry."
His sky blue eyes look up at me, broken and sad, like a lost little boy. "Darce, I…I'm messed up."
"You have a problem," I countered softly, my voice filling with soft conviction, for him and for me. "But you can fix it. You just need help."
He shakes his head. "No, I'm…messed up. I've been messed up since…since…."
The forlorn look in those shattered blue eyes breaks my heart. "Since when, Peter?"
"Since you…left me. You…you went away, Darcy." I feel his hand cling to mine. Like a life preserver. "You went away…left me here…all alone…"
I feel the tears start in the back of my eyes. Guilt washes over me as I realize that I never should've left. If I had known this would happen, I never would've gotten on that plane to Kenya. I should have been here…I could've…
No, this didn't have anything to do with me. Peter has a problem, and he needs help. But more important than that, right now, he needs a friend.
I take in a deep breath. "Peter, my leaving for Kenya doesn't give you an excuse to kill yourself."
But he continues on, like he didn't even hear me, his voice distant, mournful. "Everyone leaves in the…end, don't they? You left me for…Kenya, Mia leaves me for…Paris, Dad left me for…shiny new life… Mom left me for…Regina…am I such a…loser… that everyone I love has to…move hundreds of…miles just to get…away from me?"
I fight to keep the tears at bay. Peter…my sweet, thoughtful Peter…
"You're not a loser," I say softly, tracing the perfect lines of his face. "You were never a loser, Peter."
His face twists up, bitterly, and I can see the tears start to brim in his eyes. "Then why am I always…alone, huh? Why?"
You're not alone, I want to say. You'll always have me. I'll always love you. But for reasons I'm too afraid to explore, the words get caught in my throat. So, instead, I offer a question.
"What about your friends? Don't they count?"
He folds his arms as he turns his head, bitterly. "No."
My heart drops at his statement, as I look at him with sad eyes. "I know you don't mean that."
He sighs, his face apologetic. "Always…knew me better…than I did, huh? Yeah…I guess you're…right."
I always knew that he had issues with loneliness. Abandonment.
I loved him with all I had to give when we were together, but as horrible as it might sound, being with him made me appreciate what I had much more. Granted, Peter's parents were a lot richer than mine. And he was so talented that it often made me feel stupid in comparison, not that I ever told him that. But when he let me into his world, I was surprised to see how empty it was, how barren. I have my parents, and Clare, and Manny, Spinner and Jane and sometimes, Emma. I had life and love all around me. But Peter…he didn't have anyone. His mom was too busy running school and her own life, even though I could sense she really did love him. Which is more than I could say for his dad. He was too busy with his new wife and daughter and his own 6-figure job to care about what his only son did. He had no siblings to talk to; no real friends until the Studz were formed. He was alone most of the time, except when he was with me. There were times when it felt like him being with me was like his escape from that world. And I was only too happy to indulge him.
I gently turn his face towards mine. "There are people who love you, Peter. People who care about you, and don't want to see you get hurt by messing with this meth crap."
He snorts, clearly not believing me.
My voice grows a little more firm. "Hey, there are. And you know how I know?"
His response comes out a slur. "Howz'at?"
I give him a small smile. "Because I'm one of them."
His smirk peaks out at me for a minute. "One of…who?"
I know what he's fishing for, but I'm still scared to go down that route. So I tread lightly around. "People who care."
His eyes grow wide for a second. Almost as if they're scared. "Care? Not…?"
My heart tugs at his desperate tone, longing to let loose the words just at the tip of my tongue. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"
"Say what?"
I give him a knowing look. "You know what."
His eyes fall for a moment, disappointment swimming in those clear blue orbs. "No. Not if you don't…want to…not if you don't…mean it—"
I gently place a finger to his lips, making sure I'm looking into those beautiful blue orbs. Oh, the hell with it.
"Peter…I love you."
It's like a shaft of light illuminates his face. His eyes suddenly brighten, a disbelieving smile crossing his weary features. "You…mean it?"
I simply nod, not even trying to stop the tears that slide down my cheeks this time. Every part of me is aching for him so badly, it's maddening…
He desperately grabs my hand. "Love you... too…never stopped. Part of me never…will."
The longing building in me finally hits its boiling point. "Me, neither."
I know I shouldn't, know that this isn't what he needs right now, but guided by something stronger than instinct, I lower my head, tilt his head up slightly, bringing his lips to mine.
And suddenly, here we are, like we never stopped. As the kiss deepens, as my tongue and his meld into one, it's like our souls touch…and suddenly there's no Mia, no Kenya, no meth, no rapists or roofies, no slit wrists and brat camps, no bands and parents who don't care or understand…the world fades away, leaving only the two of us. We're just Peter and Darcy. Two people…in love…
For a few blissful moments, everything's the way it ought to be.
The kiss breaks all too soon, even though he manages to steal another quick one from my lips.
As I look into the shining eyes of the boy…the young man…who means the world to me, I realize just how close I came to losing him forever. And how I can't let that happen again.
"You're not alone, Peter. I'm here. Right now. And I'm going to help you every step of the way. You won't have to do this alone."
The way he grasps my hand…it's like he'll drown if he lets it go. So I hold on. Because I'll never let him go. I thought I could, but I can't. Peter Stone is as much a part of my heart and soul as God himself. Losing him…it would be like losing part of me.
"Swear?," he weakly manages, but his eyes filled with hope.
I smile as I entangle my right pinky with his, planting a soft kiss onto our locked fingers. "Pinky swear."
His smile is frail, but genuine. "Thank you…wasn't sure I would…make it through the day."
Now it's my turn to smirk. "Hey, what's a little transcontinental, 4,000 mile plane ride between lovers, anyway?"
A feeling of pride swells within me at the statement. Mia might have had Peter until now, and Emma got to him before, but no matter what anyone will ever say, or whoever might come down the road… I'll always know that I had him first.
"I…love you, Darcy."
I smile as I stroke his hair, but I don't say it back. Sometimes, the only way to tell someone you love them is to show them.
So I take a breath, and I sing him a song that my mom used to sing to me when I was a little girl.
"Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,
and think of you
caught up in circles confusion-
is nothing new
Flashback-warm nights-
almost left behind
suitcases of memories,
Time after—
Peter's POV
That song…I know that song. I feel the lull of sleep pulling on my eyelids, but I'm enraptured by the soft, angelic pitch of her voice. My Darcy…singing. To me.
If this is a dream, I don't ever want to wake up…
"Sometimes you picture me-
I'm walking too far ahead
you're calling to me, I can't hear
what you've said-
Then you say-go slow-
I fall behind-
the second hand unwinds"
If you're lost you can look-and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you-I'll be waiting
time after time…"
The lyrics soothe me, bring me warmth, heal my heart, and comfort my soul. I never felt as lost as I have the last few days. And I never fell as hard. And here she is, giving me comfort when I need it the most.
It shouldn't be a surprise to me that I'm here, needing her like I've always needed her. In the vast wasteland of loneliness that's been my life, Darcy Edwards was like an oasis. My escape. My miracle. One look from her eyes, one touch of her hand, and even the loneliest guy in the world could feel, even for an instant, like he belonged.
I was stupid to have let her slip away. I should've moved to Kenya with her, not to Paris with Mia. Even at our best, I couldn't shake the feeling that Mia was just the rebound. She sought a place in my heart that was not meant for her. It was meant for Darcy.
It's always been Darcy. Probably always will.
"After my picture fades and darkness has
turned to gray
watching through windows-you're wondering
if I'm OK
secrets stolen from deep inside
the drum beats out of time…"
Just look at right now, I tell myself. Even when I piss off my friends, alienate my girlfriend and ditch my life to blow my brains out on meth, she's here, flying out all the way from Africa, ditching her own life just to be help me put back the pieces of the person I once was.
Since Darcy's been gone, I've felt my world slip into chaos. The almost-thing with Riley, dating Mia, getting high…now she's been back for only, what a few minutes? Hours? And I can feel the world tip back into balance again. Everything makes sense. Everything fits. I fit.
If you're lost you can look-and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you-I'll be waiting
time after time…
Time after time…
Time after time… "
Sleep is winning the fight and I begin to sleep for the first time in days. I don't know what the next day holds for me. I don't even know how I'll make it through the next ten minutes. But I know one thing.
Darcy Edwards loves me.
And corny as it sounds…as long as I know that, I know that sooner or later, it will all be okay.
To Be Continued…
