Attin-lay

Of all the alcohol that was available in the world, why he chose midori she had no clue. Maybe it was the color; he liked everything with a little bit of color. Miranda picked up the discarded tumbler on the counter, mostly watered down now, gave it a swish, and gulped it down. She winced, and chased it with a glass of water. Well, it sure as hell wasn't for the taste, the shit tasted like pure piss mixed with cantaloupe juice.

Peter had already passed out, it only took him moments to fall asleep after she shooed him into bed and forced him to lie down. She went back in to check on him; he would murmur every so often, shake his head and make a small groan. Miranda frowned, she missed her Peter. That doe eyed mischievous boy with a big soft side that used to parade her around town. He fussed again, it almost looked painful this time, with his eyes pinched shut and his hands balled up in the sheets. She brushed a tuft of hair from his forehead and pressed a kiss to his temple. He sighed and stilled beneath her touch, his face and body relaxing as the minutes ticked by.

He didn't deserve this; to be tortured every night only to wake up here where it all began. No, he didn't deserve that all.

Miranda sighed and ran a hand through her thick tousled hair, "Goodnight Peter," she whispered, dropping another tender kiss on his head. She turned to the night stand and grabbed his flashlight, tiptoed out of the room, and quietly shut the door behind her.

She picked up the leather bound book and turned it over in her hands, running her fingers along the embossed black lettering on the cover.

Filii Noctis. Miranda cocked her head to the side. "Latin…nice," she scoffed, glancing around for a pad of paper and a pen. Her father insisted that she studied a foreign language. So foreign that it was dead. God forbid she had taken Spanish, of French, or hell even German; nope, Christopher Chapman wanted his little girl to be able to impress when she grew up. Miranda just wanted to pass with an acceptable grade.

She slumped behind the couch and with the flash light between her teeth she flipped open the book to the page that Peter had marked. She took a closer look at the picture. Some sort of winged creature sitting on a scroll, crown upon its head with a different crest on each side, some sort of marking over its eyes and mouth. There was a small script in the corner. Domus de Damiri. Enatus Mare Nostrum.

"Okay," she mumbled, scribbling down the English. "House of Damiri, easy enough…something…our sea…our sea, that makes no sense." Miranda rubbed her forehead and let her eyes scan the previous page. "servabit hostia eius vivens in diebus multis, will keep victim alive for many days." She scribbled down, "Well, that's unfortunate," she grimaced, deciding that it was a good thing that Peter's parents had went quick. She continued to scanning the page, and then the book, picking out key word and phrases she could figure out and jotting them down. According to this particular book there were a handful of breeds of vampires, and endless clans, or houses that belonged to each one. And she was supposed to believe that these things were just walking around fitting in with the rest of us…yea…that wasn't going to help her sleep at night. Each one of them was designed to seduce in their own way, to make it easier on the victim. Some fed only on animals, some actually felt some type of connection to their human and only drank if it was offered up in donation, then there were those who did the whole old school bat thing; and then there was the ones Peter had went and got involved with.

Miranda had stopped writing five terribly written pages ago, and was now just staring at the pages before her. Flashlight still between her teeth as she tapped the pen along the side of her leg, shaking her head as she read one horrid thing after the next.

The creak of the door fell on deaf ears as she kept jotting down notes, it wasn't until the overhead lamp clicked on that her breath caught in her throat and the pen fell from her fingertips as she slowly turned her eyes up. Peter was standing there in a pair of pajama pants; rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Miranda?" His voice cracked when he said her name. "Fucking hell, its half past four in the morning."

Her mouth hung slightly open for a moment before she licked her lips and gave a questioning shrug and went back to nosing through the book.

"Is that my torch? And why are you behind the couch? Table wasn't good enough? Is that that book, the one you told me not to mess with? So glad you play by the rules."

She shot him a look but didn't reply.

Peter sighed and took a seat beside her, rolling his head against the wall to face her. "Randi, look, maybe the drinking wasn't a good idea, but I just needed something, something to wash it all away."

Miranda closed the book and let it drop to the floor with a soft thud. She ran her hand down the length of his face, a glum smile on her face, "Peter," she sighed.

He leaned into her touch and blinked slowly, fixating his dark eyes on her matching ones. His full of pain and suffering, hers full of compassion and remorse.

"I'd give anything to wave a magic wand and make this all disappear, anything," she pushed up to her knees and pressed a kiss to his cool cheek. "But I can't, and neither can you and neither can anyone or anything else. All you can do is remember them and move on."

Peter gave her a small smile, "What about the book?" he asked casually.

She shook her head, "Peter forget the damn book! It's in Latin anyway, and not pig." Miranda stood from the floor, taking the book with her as well as the notes she had been working on. There was no point in sharing those just yet.

Peter hopped up and crossed her path; he could be a quick little thing when he wanted too. "Don't play coy with me, Miranda Cooper," He blocked her several attempts to dodge around him with ease, catching her wrist to steady her when she almost lost her footing. "I'm not half as daft as people seem to think." His tone was much firmer now, demanding even. "I also know you flew by two years of advanced Latin here, are in the middle of your third," he inched his face closer to hers and cocked his head to the side. "I think it's safe to assume you started abroad and are quite handy in written word." Peter gestured to the notepad in her grip.

Miranda exhaled, "it's not nice Peter."

"Didn't expect it to be, Miranda."

She shook her head, running a hand through her hair before taking a moment to rub her temples. "And don't down yourself, Pete. You're smart, cute, and one helluva a good guy; who has regrettably come into some shitty times." She let out a halfhearted laugh and gave him a sideways smile.

"So…cute-" he declared, waggling his eyebrows.

"And cocky." She assured him with a nod, swatting him in the shoulder with the notepad. Of course she thought he was cute, despite being almost a year younger he had always towered over her, his floppy hair was always either in his face or a wretched mess. She had always teased him about how thin he was, that he would be the one wearing his girlfriend's shirts to bed, they would just be a little short. But she liked that too; she could wrap herself around him as easily as he could wrap himself around her. Perhaps when this was over they could explore other options, she would hate to ruin their friendship, but there was no denying the mutual attraction. Well…Peter, albeit unsuccessful, had a thing for anything with girl parts.

"Couch," she demanded, tapping him again with her notes. "I'll tell you what I know."

"Bed," he countered, "And I can show you," he said with a whisper, taking a step closer and resting his hands on her hips, his thumbs tracing the line above the hem of her shorts. Miranda felt both the book and pad fall from her hands as she automatically rested her palms on his chest; his skin was always so warm. Peter's hands had found their way to her back and slowly pulled her closer, his fingers trailing up the back of her shirt. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a firm step back.

"What is it a switch with you?" she laughed.

Peter sighed and hung his head, looking back up with her with a grin, "I've been often told it's the age," he said with a shrug.

"Your fault, with all that ego stroking you were doing."

"Yea, well that's all the stroking you'll be getting," she scoffed. "Now come sit, behave, and we can go over these notes."

Peter poured them both a cup of tea as Miranda flipped through the pages and pointed out phrases comparing them to her notes. She told him the basics, that she had learned that the thing he had found pinned to the wall had been some sort of house crest, and the many, many, breeds that branched out into clans and then boiled down into individual houses.

"But this I don't understand," she tapped her fingers on the words on the yellowed page. "Enatus Mare Nostrum, something about our sea, Mare Nostrum." She put her down on the kitchen table. "I have no clue, it makes no sense."

Peter scoffed from across from her, "Seriously, Miranda, you're supposed to be better than this than me."

She picked up her head and shot him a look. It was now well past 6 in the morning, the sun was starting to creep into the windows and both of them were well past the point of tired. "I'm sorry what."

"We shared that same miserable history class, hell we studied for exams together."

Miranda buried her face in the crook of her elbow, grinding her teeth together. "Peter, I'd appreciate it if you would just spit it out already," she groaned.

"Right then," he coughed. "Mare Nostrum is what the Romans referred to what is now known as the Mediterranean Sea."

"Habitat sub terra, Peter, lives underground. Not in the freaking sea!" She shoved herself away from the table, her chair teetering on its legs threating to tip as she pushed it away and marched to the sink to dump the contents of her cup; which had long gone cold. She gripped the counter top and took a deep breath. "Sorry, I'm just tired." She turned back to see Peter staring at her with a smirk on his face.

"It doesn't have to be the sea, per say, Randi; it could be the Mediterranean as a whole. You know, Morocco, Greece, Italy, Spain, France, Egypt, Turkey-"

"I'm an idiot," Miranda muttered, passing a hand over her face.

"You're not, Miranda," Peter replied solemnly, "you're amazing, really."

She wet her face with a damp washcloth and sat back down, beside him rather than across from him. "Okay, moving on." Reached over and placed a hand over his, "Look Peter, it says that he keeps them alive for days, usually ending in them turning. I don't know why your parents went so quickly but I think it's better, for them, that they did."

Peter's eyes glazed at the mention of his parent's demise and she squeezed his hand gently. She let the silence hang in the air, wondering if she should tell him anymore or just let it be. He might have put on a big tough front, but deep down she knew he was still a scared boy; after all he had every right to be. Tears were already pooling in the corners of his wide brown eyes. She would let it rest for now, save it for another time. She stood and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing his head to her chest.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" she whispered, kissing the top of his head.

Peter sniffed and nodded against her, tears already sinking into her shirt and dampening her skin. Miranda released his body and he stood to face her; the rims of his eyes red and his cheeks wet. She wiped the corners of his eyes with her thumbs and then stood on tiptoe, bringing his face down to meet hers and gently pressed a kiss to his lips. Peter inhaled sharply, before melting into her. She smiled against him and pulled away.

"One day, Peter, one day, everything will be okay. You'll be up and on your feet, successful, plenty of girls by your side. You'll never forget, but you will be okay."

Peter pulled her to him, her head just tall enough so he could tuck her under his chin. "Just you Randi, that's all I need." He breathed her in as he rubbed circles in her back and she nuzzled his chest. "I meant it you know, you really are amazing."

"You're not so bad yourself, Peter."


A/N: So we are slowly getting to that point, to where we make that future jump to movie time. It's going to be kinda sad, not going to lie, think I'm going to try to tie that part up in the next two or three chapters. We need adult Peter and Miranda; I've been doing lots of head writing, sassy banter, a nice apartment fluff moment, some tellng off. Good stuff. Yea, I really want them to get to that point...soon. I'd apologize for lack of updating but yeah...we all know how I am about that. I start getting med injections soon, I'll let you know how that goes :p Until then, don't foget to leave me something in that beautiful box down there won't you please. I'll leave you yummy cookies. Tennant flavored cookies.