55. Peep's Retribution

They reached the resupply station without incident. Everything there was in order, and Sherry asked for news of what was happening in the area. Loghain had put a reward out for them, a quite substantial one, and Sherry wondered aloud where and how he'd gotten the gold to do so—but said no more on the subject.

Jesse was still in control of Sherry's Walk, but there were problems, though the rumors about that were rampant and many. Sorting out the truth from the rumors would be impossible without a closer look.

Sherry hugged Zevran as he rode away toward the compound, and Alistair looked away, feeling ashamed to even feel the jealousy he couldn't stop. Sherry still didn't look at him, at any point in time.

All in all, it was depressing and left him too much time to think on his shame.

They stopped still after they left, still without any new revelations. As evening approached, they found a camp in an ancient, abandoned building. Settling in beside the fire, Wynne asked Sherry to tell them about her stay with Loghain.

Alistair wrapped his cloak around him and stood outside of the building, listening. But the story was compelling, and eventually, he couldn't hold himself aloof anymore. He sat down beside the fire, out a ways from the rest of them.

"One of the prisoners had tried to escape again. We turned the corner and it was Alistair. He called my name, but I didn't know him."

"You must have felt something," Wynne commented. "You were very much in love before Jesse took over."

Sherry's face grew red, and she glanced at him. Then she lifted her chin and her blue eyes grew as hard as ice and twice as cold.

"I felt nothing," she answered, looking back into the fire. The words were clipped, sharp, and hard.

The group grew quiet, silence filling the small structure, punctuated only by the popping of the fire.

"Anyway," she continued after a moment, her voice settling into a distant drone to Alistair.

He felt like he had been stabbed. Somehow, he doubted that it was true. The look on her face had put the lie to her words. Yet the fact that she was willing to say them told him that he had passed a certain threshold in her mind. For a stranger, she would feel pity and not say it. For someone who had crushed her and toyed with her in the pond, she would have none.

He ran his hand down his face, trying to wipe away his shame. It didn't help, of course.

Finally, too hot now in his cloak, he stepped out. "I'll take first watch," he told them. "I'll be over by that knot of pines."

They ignored him, chatting amongst themselves. He sighed.

Around midnight, he woke Peep for his watch. He stoked the fire and laid down, not in the least bit sleepy. Peep climbed the crumbling stone steps up to the top. There, he sat where he could see the surrounding area, as well as the fire.

It seemed an eternity of sleeplessness later when Alistair heard the soft sound of Sherry muttering in her sleep. Soon the sound changed, and she began to cry, soft, gasping sobs.

He heard Peep slip quietly down the stairs, and saw his form moving in the gloom. "Shh, little girl. Shhh." he said softly.

Sherry sat up with a gasping cry. "Peep," she said, and Alistair watched her fall into the large man's embrace.

"Come on up here with me, little girl," Peep told her, and wrapped a cloak around her shoulders as she slowly stood. When they got to the top of the stairs again, he sat back down, and she huddled beside him. "Tell Peep what the matter is."

"It's crazy. I'm crazy. I was dreaming, and everything was different."

"What was you dreaming, little girl?" Peep asked her, his voice pitched as low and quiet as hers, so that Alistair had to strain to hear.

"Alistair," Sherry whispered so softly that he wasn't sure he'd heard her right. She took a shuddering breath that was actually louder than his name. "He was burned. Terribly burned. Lying in a field of early rye." She took another gasping breath, and Alistair realized she was fighting tears. "But he can't have been burned. Burn scars don't heal, Peep. Ever. Not even with the best surgeons."

"Neither does brain trauma so bad dat you forgot yer entire life, and yet—here ya are."

"How, Peep? How is it possible?" She sighed deeply. "His pain must have been catastrophic."

"At first, certainly. But not with'n you there. Ya wouldn't leave him in pain, Sherry. Ya got yer ways of fixin' things and helpin' people. He prolly spent most of the first months of it sleepin'."

"How could anyone do that?" Sherry said, her whisper strained by suppressed sobs. "That's impossible!"

"It is now. But ya got yer ways. You saved my boy from death. Tis why I'm here. Cause he maked me promise to do anything at all ta help ya, if you'd heal 'im. And ye did, Sherry. Ye did. I owe ya everythin' and so does Alistair. He just too stupid and emotional ta recognize it."

She broke down then, and Alistair huddled in his bedroll, miserable. How quickly one forgot, he thought. Forgot that she had given so much to heal him. His body showed no effects from the burns, and he'd let himself forget her care and diligence in restoring him so fully.

"I think I hate him," she said, sniffling.

"Nah, ya don't hate him. If ya did, you'd send 'im away."

Alistair looked up, surprised to find an ally of sorts in such a strange place. Peep didn't even know him.

"I should, after this morning." Her voice had lowered again until Alistair could barely hear it. His stomach tightened and he felt a tear fall unbidden.

"What'cha mean?" Peep's voice had altered, too, to a sound near alarm.

"He came down to the pond while I was bathing, and we-"

"Did he hurt you?" the demand was louder than the previous whispers, urgent and sharp.

"No. Not really. It's just... he just walked away. He left me laying there in the mud and just... walked away."

"He must be a virgin," Peep said with a low laugh. "They do the dumb all the time. Takes a while to realize women ain't like men and they wants some time afterward."

"No, it was more than that," she said, and he heard her crying again.

"Did you want to do it? After the way he's been toward you, I wouldn't expect..." He grew silent for a moment, and Alistair looked up to see him lifting her face. "Ye said no, didn't ye?"

"Yes, but-" She was interrupted by Peep jumping up.

She grabbed his cloak. "No, Peep, it wasn't like that! I wasn't saying no to... I mean, it was just not right yet... Peep!"

But Peep wasn't stopping, wasn't listening. Alistair sat up, he knew what was coming—and that he deserved it thoroughly.

"You son of a bitch!" Peep roared, stepping right through the fire—leaping, more like—and grabbing Alistair's tunic. Dragging him up to a standing position—no small feat in and of itself—he slammed his fist hard into Alistair's gut.

Knowing it was coming didn't make it hurt less. Alistair doubled over, taking a right cross to the chin from a fist the size of a piglet.

"What the hell?" Maryanne cried, jumping back as Alistair narrowly missed stepping on her hand.

"I upset Peep," Sherry said. "I didn't explain things very well, and..."

Maryanne started to cast as Alistair's nose audibly broke from another fist landing. Peep stopped for a second, his massive hand pointing at her and stopping her mid-cast.

"You stay outta this! This here is man business! Ya cast one heal on 'im and I swear I'll take a strap to you!"

Then he went back to hammering Alistair. Alistair didn't fight back.

"You was wrong!" Peep yelled. "And you knowed it, but you did it anyway! What the hell is WRONG with your mind?" Another powerful blow hit Alistair, rocking him back on his heels. "Ya don't never," the 'never' was punctuated by a fist cracking into his ribs, "never," another fist, "never keep going when no woman says 'no'!"

He hit Alistair again, with so much force that he was lifted and thrown against the stone wall. He collapsed, unable to keep his feet anymore.

"Ya knowed it was wrong! I'm like to kill ya right fuckin' now! Ya git your god-damned head on straight, or I'm gonna do it!"

Alistair drooled blood and fought to breath. "I think you broke my rib," he said, groaning.

"Be glad I ain't broke nothin' more important than that," Peep told him. Then, to the women, "Don't none of you be healin' him. None of ya. He ain't dying, and he deserves more'n he got!"

"Peep, it wasn't-" Sherry began again.

"No. Ya don't say it. Ya don't stick up fer him. Ya said the word, and that's all what matters. This is man business, and he knowed it. He didn't fight back, Sherry, cause he KNOWED he done wrong. Ya don't heal him, neither. Don't matter if ya forgive him, he gots ta pay for what he done. It ain't never okay, and he knowed it then and he know it now for damned sure!"

Peep stomped back up the stairs, and the women looked at him in the light of the fire, crumpled against the wall. Alistair ignored them, groaning as he fought for breath.

"I really don't want to know," Maryanne said, climbing back into her bedroll.

Moments passed, and Wynne looked back and forth between Peep and Alistair. She lifted her staff and Peep's voice cut through her spell. She ceased uncertainly and then climbed into her bedroll.

Alistair tried to find a spot that was less painful than all the rest, or maybe less cold, or in some way could decrease his misery. He almost yelped in pain as something heavy landed on him, opening his eyes to find Sherry covering him with a cloak.

Peep barked at her, but she said in a low voice, "Even for you, Peep, I won't let him freeze to death. He's too far away from the fire."

Another thump and then he was covered in a blanket, and she stuffed a bedroll against his head to keep the heat in. She never met his eyes once, and he didn't speak. He knew he should say something. Apologize, anything. But the shame still burned in him, too deeply for him to get the words choked past it.

She left him and climbed to the top of the stone stair. There, she sat beside Peep. This time, Alistair was too far away to hear it if they spoke of anything together.