Author's Note- I am sorry that I can't please everybody. Even though I really want to! :) I'm just following where this thing is leading me. As my friend used to say, I may be running the train but the tracks have already been laid. The characters are who they are.
Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.
Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Eleven-
Megan's Dream-
Cold metal slid along her cheekbone. It curved down her throat to her chest, seeming to press it's chill down into the depths of her body as it went. Her breathing was ragged, thundering in her ears with her heartbeat in some kind of twisted symphony as she waited. Waited for it to do something besides tease her. Waiting to die. Something grabbed her hair and yanked backward hard, making her whimper. Unbidden, tears stung her eyes but she wouldn't cry. Not for him. The metal moved up and began tapping the tape over her mouth. Just the tip circled her nostril in an almost lovingly slow torture. Wilson Polly's voice taunted her, his eyes boring into hers. "As a special treat, I'm going to do this while you're still alive."
Her eyes closed automatically against it, waiting for the first searing jab that would send it's painful waves through her any minute. Waiting, but it never came. She felt the sneaking dread take over her knotted stomach. Snapping her eyes open and lowering her head, she screamed.
Before her was Wilson and he was stabbing the hook into Peter's stomach over and over again.
"I'll make you watch. You'll stay alive while he dies." He snarled.
She wanted to fight but her limbs wouldn't move. She could only look on it horror. Flinching from the sight, she turned her gaze to the ground. Trying to breath even though all air had been sucked from the room. Blood splattered on the floor beneath her, a rivulet flowing away to her right. So much blood. It turned into an ocean that threatened to swallow her up.
Suddenly her hands were free and she felt the weight of a gun in her hand. She raised it and fired but the bullet didn't hit Wilson at all.
He simply smiled at her, threw Peter's body to the ground and disappeared.
She looked around frantically, her whole body going almost numb with fear, but he was nowhere to be seen. And Peter... She stumbled to the ground and frantically tried to cup the blood around her in her hands, to grab hold of it and keep it from slipping away. It was pointless, she knew.
"Megan." Peter's voice made her start sobbing at her own helplessness as she clawed at the bloody floor.
-Megan's POV-
"Peter." Megan grunted, starting awake and rising up on her hands before she was even awake. Breathing hard in short pants, she blinked around at her surroundings. Her bedroom was lit with morning sunlight. Everything was as it had been when she had climbed onto her bed in the night. Her eyes slid over to her bedside clock. Three hours. She had been asleep for three hours and somehow felt worse than before she had laid down. Grimacing a little at the ache in the right side of her body, she flipped her hips so that she could sit up. Her head felt heavy. Maybe her walk in the rain had given her a cold. Served her right if it had.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed but immediately had to stop to rest. It felt like she was moving through sand and each attempt was merely wasting energy she did not have. Slowly, she raised her hand to look it over, dully surprised that it wasn't coated in blood. Her nightmare swam through her vision, swathing her body with fear and the sickening memory of Peter bleeding out in front of her. She wanted to throw up. Bracing herself on her knees, she tried to take deep breaths, shoving the urge further back. Her arms were trembling, but the adrenaline slowly started to ebb from her system, leaving her even more tired than ever. Eyes wandering, she caught sight of a handset from her home phone near her bed. It sat there on her nightstand, mocking her with her own cowardice. The fact that she didn't even have the decency to apologize to Peter when he wasn't asleep.
Raising a hand, she scrubbed at her face, careful of her bruise and stitches. Then she ran it through her hair. Finally, she reached out and grabbed the phone, but still hesitated. Who should she call? Peter was... he was asleep, he must be. She forced herself to think so, even though a part of her rebelled and still whispered that he would be awake. He'd be in a regular hospital room by now. A nurse would be helping him to start walking short distances. He was fit and strong, he'd probably even be on a liquid diet already. She could almost see him. Him and his damnably charming smile.
She shook her head. No, she wouldn't call him. But she didn't even know his sister's numbers. Who else could she call? Bud? No, he'd be back with Jeannie, now that she wasn't apparently scaring the hell out him. She recalled enough of last night to remember her mother calling the detective on the phone to let him know she had shown up at home. A different sort of emotion stole over her at the memory. Bud had been worried. About her. Probably the most annoying and frustrating person he knew. A rush of affection swelled up within her. She'd have to find a way to reciprocate. Peter would want her to.
Her eyes trailed over the phone's hard lines, scrutinizing absently. Could she call Ethan? A part of her doubted he would know enough, or be coherent enough, to give her any useful information on Peter's recovery. He would be panicked and wanting to know how she was doing. She didn't want to have to try and lie to him, and telling Ethan she wasn't doing just perfectly fine wouldn't help matters. She definitely didn't want to contact her boss. Kate would probably chew her out for disappearing without telling anyone where she was going. That left only Curtis or Sam. Her thumb floated over the numbers for Curtis' cell, but she didn't press the buttons. He would most likely say something along the lines of her acting like an idiot and why the hell she wasn't still at the hospital.
She took a deep, steadying breath.
Sam it was then.
