Knife's Edge
by WendyH
~ Part one ~
Disclaimers in synopsis
~ Present ~
It had been over a month since Peter's reappearance, a month of endless nightmares of pain and darkness. He was told it had taken nearly seven days for the veil of confusion and forgetfulness that had shrouded his mind to lift and then, when he had at last gained some semblance of reality, he encountered expectant faces, waiting -- waiting for answers that he found himself unable to give.
Most of the bruises and cuts that had marred his body were healing now, thanks to his father's ministrations, and where there had been deep wounds, there was now only barely visible scars. His body was easily fixed. It opened, it bled and it was healed, simple. If only his soul was that easy to repair. So much had been taken from him, time, memories, but he was vaguely aware of something else. He couldn't voice what it was, nor could he say with any clarity at all was done to him, or why, but he knew deep down inside, he had lost something, or someone.
His missing time and the pain that came with his aborted attempts to try and remember plagued his waking days and nights. Peaceful sleep had always been a stranger to Peter, something he had long learned to lived without. Childhood memories, having been a constant source of nightmares, but now his demons had no faces. There was no Master Dao to swear revenge on, no logic to his pain, just the agony of the unknown.
Standing at his apartment window, Peter scanned the streets below him, wondering if he was looking at the place where his life was taken away from him, questioning if the evil that had stolen his last thread of peace was still out there, waiting for him.
"You're hovering again, father," he whispered as his father approached him from behind.
Caine had been watching Peter. He knew he was close to healing his son's body, but Peter's mind and heart had been so badly damaged that Caine was at a loss to know how to help him. "It is a father's job to...hover...over his child."
"But I'm not a child anymore." Peter turned to face his father. "Am I, father?"
Caine looked into the hazel eyes of his child, eyes now devoid of life, yet undeniably full of pain.
"No, you are a man, but you are still and always will be my child, and it hurts to see my child in such pain." Reaching out his hand, Caine attempted to comfort Peter, and maybe himself with the familiar touch.
Peter felt his father's hand breeze past his cheek as he quickly moved out of range and put distance between them.
"But it's not pain I'm feeling, I'm empty. I feel like I'm standing on an invisible floor that hovers over a huge abyss...." His voice wavered, desperate, as he was to make his father understand what he was feeling inside. "And it's waiting for me to fall." Balling a hand into a fist, the angry man repeatedly began to thump at his chest, ignoring the pain it caused on his yet healed wounds. "It's waiting for me and I don't know why."
Caine stepped to his son's side, catching his hand before Peter could strike himself again. Holding tight to the clenched fist, he could barely feel Peter's energy, as it surged and ebbed in its struggle for life. The link to his son had changed, becoming faint; a fragile thread, that now wavered with his son's emotions. "I will not let you fall, but you must fight these feelings my son." Caine's words seemed a hollow sword even to his own ears, against the might of his son's anguish.
A lone tear fell as Peter searched his father's face for the answers he needed so desperately. "How do I fight it? It hasn't a name, no face. How can I fight something that I can't see, but that can see me?" Suddenly drained, Peter began to slip to the floor.
Caine pulled Peter into his arms, feeling his son's body shake as they fell to their knees together.
"What did they do to me?" Peter cried into his father's shoulder.
"Father, what do they want from me?"
End of part one
by WendyH
~ Part one ~
Disclaimers in synopsis
~ Present ~
It had been over a month since Peter's reappearance, a month of endless nightmares of pain and darkness. He was told it had taken nearly seven days for the veil of confusion and forgetfulness that had shrouded his mind to lift and then, when he had at last gained some semblance of reality, he encountered expectant faces, waiting -- waiting for answers that he found himself unable to give.
Most of the bruises and cuts that had marred his body were healing now, thanks to his father's ministrations, and where there had been deep wounds, there was now only barely visible scars. His body was easily fixed. It opened, it bled and it was healed, simple. If only his soul was that easy to repair. So much had been taken from him, time, memories, but he was vaguely aware of something else. He couldn't voice what it was, nor could he say with any clarity at all was done to him, or why, but he knew deep down inside, he had lost something, or someone.
His missing time and the pain that came with his aborted attempts to try and remember plagued his waking days and nights. Peaceful sleep had always been a stranger to Peter, something he had long learned to lived without. Childhood memories, having been a constant source of nightmares, but now his demons had no faces. There was no Master Dao to swear revenge on, no logic to his pain, just the agony of the unknown.
Standing at his apartment window, Peter scanned the streets below him, wondering if he was looking at the place where his life was taken away from him, questioning if the evil that had stolen his last thread of peace was still out there, waiting for him.
"You're hovering again, father," he whispered as his father approached him from behind.
Caine had been watching Peter. He knew he was close to healing his son's body, but Peter's mind and heart had been so badly damaged that Caine was at a loss to know how to help him. "It is a father's job to...hover...over his child."
"But I'm not a child anymore." Peter turned to face his father. "Am I, father?"
Caine looked into the hazel eyes of his child, eyes now devoid of life, yet undeniably full of pain.
"No, you are a man, but you are still and always will be my child, and it hurts to see my child in such pain." Reaching out his hand, Caine attempted to comfort Peter, and maybe himself with the familiar touch.
Peter felt his father's hand breeze past his cheek as he quickly moved out of range and put distance between them.
"But it's not pain I'm feeling, I'm empty. I feel like I'm standing on an invisible floor that hovers over a huge abyss...." His voice wavered, desperate, as he was to make his father understand what he was feeling inside. "And it's waiting for me to fall." Balling a hand into a fist, the angry man repeatedly began to thump at his chest, ignoring the pain it caused on his yet healed wounds. "It's waiting for me and I don't know why."
Caine stepped to his son's side, catching his hand before Peter could strike himself again. Holding tight to the clenched fist, he could barely feel Peter's energy, as it surged and ebbed in its struggle for life. The link to his son had changed, becoming faint; a fragile thread, that now wavered with his son's emotions. "I will not let you fall, but you must fight these feelings my son." Caine's words seemed a hollow sword even to his own ears, against the might of his son's anguish.
A lone tear fell as Peter searched his father's face for the answers he needed so desperately. "How do I fight it? It hasn't a name, no face. How can I fight something that I can't see, but that can see me?" Suddenly drained, Peter began to slip to the floor.
Caine pulled Peter into his arms, feeling his son's body shake as they fell to their knees together.
"What did they do to me?" Peter cried into his father's shoulder.
"Father, what do they want from me?"
End of part one
