Author's Note- Thank you so much for all the well wishes, I greatly appreciate it and the reviews! My goodness, you guys are awesome. I'm glad you like it so far.

About the last chapter, I didn't really want to write about Aiden at all, so I think he's lucky to have gotten a passing mention. :) This one is late because the last three chapters kind of rolled into one continuous ream, so expect the next/last ones shortly.

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Not even close.

Thunder, Lightening, and One Hell of a Storm: Twenty One-

Megan's POV-

As she helped lower him into the passenger seat of her car, Megan hoped like hell Peter couldn't feel the tremble still in her hands. That would be the last thing she needed right now, since he seemed to have already noticed how agitated she was. She'd been having trouble with them since the call from his sister, as though her limbs were frightened by the mere mention of seeing him and her heart seemed to be following their lead in fluttering a too-fast rhythm against her sternum.

Luckily, Peter couldn't seem to tell around his own shaking. He'd obviously over-taxed himself just coming to see her and for the fifth time just today, she cursed her cowardice. If she had just called sooner he wouldn't be in this state. They moved slowly as she picked up his legs for him and folded them into the footwell, carefully trying not to jar his sore body. He winced a little, but seemed alright as he slumped in the seat, clearly spent.

After she shut the door, she stood still for a moment leaning against the car, carefully taking her first real breath in the past half-hour. She had Peter. She'd found him! He wasn't lost, laying in a ditch somewhere with no one to help him. As much as it ticked her off that her boss had agreed to this little psychotic outing, he'd been smart to call Kate. At least he was using his brain a little.

"Very little." She growled under her breath. She pushed off the car, clutching her keys hard in her fist as she strode around it. Without speaking, she pulled her door open and climbed inside. However, when she was finally seated next to Peter, she just sat there, unable to make herself grip the wheel or switch on the ignition. Her hands were tingling and slightly numb. God, not now. She cast her eyes toward the ceiling, one hand in her lap, one resting in the curve of the steering wheel, both useless. Needle-sharp pain started prickling up her fingers, traveling all the way up to her wrists and sending shots of searing tingles up her forearms. It took all her self control, but she resisted the urge to rub the feeling back into them, lest Peter see it. All she could do was clench her teeth and repeat to herself over and over again that Peter was right there beside her. She didn't need to worry. He was here with her, dammit, why couldn't she focus?

"We don't have to drive yet." Peter spoke gently.

His soft tone- understanding so thickly written in it that it was impossible to miss- just made her feel worse. She shook her head. God, he didn't understand anything. He didn't know how hard this was, or how much her head was pounding with her thoughts running themselves in circles. "I'm sorry." The words bubbled past her lips without her conscious consent and seemed to release some of the crushing pressure in her chest, making it easier to breathe. A single tear burned its way down the outside of her left cheek before she could stop it. Trying to be surreptitious, she clenched and unclenched her fists.

Suddenly, Peter's hands enveloped her right. She looked at him in surprise, but he was wholly focused on his task, kneading the hurting limb as though he could tell exactly where it hurt. Unconsciously, her head fell back against the headrest, eyes closing just enough so that her world dimmed and focused only on Peter's look of concentration. As his fingers swept over hers, a whimper escaped her throat but she swallowed it enough that it came out as a grunt. Just as the feeling started to come back to her right hand, Peter switched to her left, wincing a little for having to turn toward her to reach it before pulling it closer to him so he was more comfortable. She let herself be pulled. She didn't speak, just let him work for a time. It felt so good, so... soothing. The pain receded completely. Another tear escaped control, this time on the right where Peter would see, so she reluctantly tugged her hand out of his. She scrubbed the lone droplet of water away quickly and, fumbling slightly because of her still recovering fingers, started the car in an attempt to stall any response he might have made into the silence. Hell, she just needed a moment to clear her head. Just a moment. Driving was monotonous enough that she could do that. It was probably even why he suggested it. It gave them both something to focus on other than each other. He gave her several minutes of silent travel as she guided the car along the circuitous route to the hospital as he had suggested, but she could feel the wheels in his head turning the entire time just as surely as the wheels of her car spun along the pavement.

Finally, just when the tension became almost unbearable, it seemed he could stand the silence no longer either. "Why are you sorry, Megan? What do you have to be sorry for?" He scoffed the last bit, making her glance at him briefly though his face was away turned toward the window. He continued at a hoarse whisper. "I'm the one that screwed up."

Her brow scrunched in confusion at his statement, but she focused on the question instead. It was probably now or never. She swallowed. "I'm sorry that- that I ran away. I ran and I didn't come back." She tried hard to breathe steadily, carefully looking out the other side of the car as she switched lanes for no reason. "I'm sorry you had to come get me. All because I was- avoiding you. And I'm sorry you were... hurt, because you came back for me. That Wilson got anywhere near you. I'm- just really sorry." The block in her throat felt as large as a baseball now, stopping her from talking any further, which was probably for the best.

More silence followed her admission, leaving her wondering what was going through Peter's head. Was he angry with her? Did he resent her? Was he even still breathing over there? She couldn't hear him. She wanted to look at him desperately, but was too afraid to meet his gaze. Especially with her own swimming with unshed tears she was still trying to force down beneath a calmer veneer.

His finally uttered whisper was barely audible over the sound of the engine. "I kept expecting you to come. Everyone who came in through the door, for a wild moment, I would always think it was you." He laughed bitterly, still quiet, and shook his head. "I won't deny, it hurt that it never was."

She bit her lip to keep herself under control, though a crushing weight was settling on her shoulders.

"But... I understand. Maybe better than you think. It just...it wasn't your fault Megan. My getting hurt- that was a result of my decision. And I'd make it again."

With those simple words, she could suddenly breathe. The rush made her feel slightly lightheaded, so it was probably a good thing they had stopped at a light. The fact that he didn't blame her made her guilt somehow easier to bear. She closed her eyes briefly, to drink in the lighter feeling suffusing her body.

A horn honking behind her jolted her back to the reality of traffic. They were only a few blocks from the hospital and both seemed content for a moment to let the silence reign.