It was a little after six o'clock by the time he reached the motorway.

Even for a Sunday night, there was very little traffic and it was proving to be a beautiful evening. The sun had just set, leaving a few lingering rays of burnt orange in the sky ahead of what was promising to be the first dry and clear night of the weekend.

With all three lanes almost deserted of any other vehicles, Peter was able to make quick progress through Hampshire. Skirting around the ancient city of Winchester and carrying on into Surry as far the ring road circling South London, he was soon approaching the border of Kent.

Though he was grateful to be nearing home and being able to collapse into his own bed, there was a part of him that had begun to wish for a delay to his journey.

How was he going to tell them? What could he say to his parents that might soften the blow of them learning of where he was about to leave them for? What would they say, and how much might it upset them when they came to the same conclusion he had that it might be a permanent separation?

Peter knew he was getting a little ahead of himself already on what was officially just another assignment UNIT had given him. Six months, he'd been away that long before and his parents hadn't worried too much about him going then. This was just another tour of duty…

One that was to take place in time and space.

But even the idea of that wasn't worrying him too much, and he might have felt the same way had he been told he was being deployed to Afghanistan or Iraq. After all, hostile deserts and alien planets were not too dissimilar when he could rely upon his training and had a loaded gun with him.

Valerus was a different matter entirely, however.

Never, not once had Peter tried to envision what life there might be like. Up until today, he hadn't even known if it still existed, let alone what it was called. But now that his homeworld had a name he couldn't shake the feeling that some unseen force was pulling him towards it, removing him from everyone and everything he cared about here on Earth.

He knew he couldn't lie to them about where he was going and why. He owed them too much to do that.

To take in a child that wasn't your own was one thing, but when he wasn't even from the same world… That made his parents truly remarkable and Peter knew he had been more than lucky to have been found by them all those years ago. Even after the truth of what he was had been revealed they still hadn't abandoned him.

How the hell was he going to tell them?

Drawing in a deep breath, he continued on without hindrance as the continued lack of congestion made it dishearteningly easy to navigate his Triumph Daytona motorcycle through the disappointingly small amount of traffic. The charcoal black sixteen-valve, three-cylinder racer was his pride and joy. It had developed a reputation on the market for being remarkably light and nimble, whilst also retaining sheer power and racing pedigree. With a mere twist of the throttle, Peter could feel the exhilarating surge of the six hundred and seventy-five cc engine that was capable of reaching speeds in the region of one hundred and fifty miles an hour.

Would they have such things on Valerus?

Peter had never much cared for the smell of burning rubber and exhaust fumes but he had become accustomed to them over the years and could tolerate their noisy, polluting ways. Perhaps had he grown up with horses and carriages the same might have been said for the smell of manure, although he knew that stench well enough living as he did in the country.

Perhaps one small consolation was that Stefan already knew what was going on.

As requested, Peter had been allowed to be the one to inform his team that he about to leave them. He had waited until they had returned to their barracks at Southampton, and upon telling them there had been an unsurprising flurry of questions from more than one of the surprised soldiers.

Stefan had been the only one not to say anything.

Given he knew the real reason why the idea had even been proposed in the first place, Peter knew his response would come later in private. But he had barely been able to look his best friend in the eye as he had delivered the news. He had made a huge show of not wanting to go, and Stefan had backed him up wholeheartedly. Now it seemed, he had jumped at the chance without even so much as asking his opinion.

But the discussion would have to wait.

UNIT just like any military organisation ran like clockwork and as soon as Peter had spoken with his team he had been handed a list of tasks and meetings that had taken up most of the afternoon. Paperwork needed to signed and Major Harrison had called him in to discuss the finer details of his after-action report and his subsequent departure. He had barely had the time to squeeze in a phone call to the hospital to speak with Davidson, and he had been relieved to hear that the injured soldier was on the mend and was to be discharged the following day.

By the time he was finished, Peter had been one of the last to leave.

Stefan hadn't required admission to A&E himself, but a cracked rib courtesy of Karina's monstrous arm meant that he had left hours ago. Granted a leave of absence to recover, Emma had driven him home and Peter was in no doubt that she would be told everything during the journey.

Starting to feeling nauseous as he reached the Maidstone and turned off the M3, Peter still didn't know what he was going to say as he drove away from the town and into the countryside.

There were hardly any signposts for the village of Milstead. It was simply too small for the local council to bother landmarking and the surrounding country lanes and twisting tree-lined roads were anonymous and confusing even in daylight. But Peter knew his way around like the back of his hand, and the bright headlights of his motorbike were soon illuminating the deserted flag market.

The weatherbeaten war memorial still had a few poppy reefs propped up against it, leftover from Remembrance Day the previous November. The small stone pillar sat in front of the community hall, both of which faced a dozen market stalls with their green and white striped roofs. The lights of the Windlowe Inn across the road were warm and inviting, and Peter briefly considered stopping off at the thatched-roofed pub before zooming on past it.

There was no denying that it was a beautiful part of the country. In the height of summer, the village attracted its fair share of visitors, nearly all of whom had accidentally stumbled across it on their way through Kent towards the more famous Canterbury and Margate.

Peter knew every inch of it and the surrounding trees and fields were full of childhood hiding places and memories. He had gone to primary school here, and there wasn't a resident that he didn't know well enough to say hello to.

Milstead was also where his secret lived.

Just beyond the village, in those same woods where he had played in as a child was where he had first arrived on Earth. His arrival and gone unnoticed by all but his parents, it had been Bonfire Night and the damage of a spaceship slamming a sizeable hole into the forest had been blamed on a wayward firework. Almost on the exact same spot sixteen years later Peter had transformed for the first time and he had used the rural location more than once to practice his abilities, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't be seen.

Slowing down as he reached his driveway, Peter turned onto the single track road and drove past the large wooden gateposts that were one of the few remaining remnants of the house's farming days.

A solid redbrick Victorian home, Oak Church Cottage was perhaps inadequately named given the majority of surrounding trees were birch and the nearest church was in the village over a mile away. It had always managed to look slightly dwarfed by the acres of woodland which surrounded it, but it only added to the aesthetic charm of the property.

Parking next to his dad's blue Nissan X-Trail, Peter killed the engine and kicked out the stand with his boot. As he swung off his bike and removed his helmet, he saw the lights of the lounge were on behind the closed curtains.

It was had gone half-past eight and his parents would have already eaten their dinner. His father was almost certainly now sat down in his favourite armchair as he watched the television. Sunday usually meant the horse racing highlights were on, and he followed the sport religiously.

Peter knew his mother would not be content with spending the evening this way.

With each operation he was sent on came the natural fussing over his safety. Often, if his dad's reports were to be believed, she would tidy the house several times over when he was away, and Peter had once caught her scrubbing the front doorstep upon returning from an assignment.

Normally, he would make sure to call her the first chance he got.

But this time Peter had only sent her a series of quick text messages, giving the excuse of his work for not being able to speak. The last of which had been just before setting off from the barracks and he had not bothered to check his phone for a reply, ignoring it even as he had felt it vibrate multiple times in his pocket.

She had wanted to talk to him before she knew he would be driving, or maybe it was Stefan finally deciding that it was safe for him to speak.

Peter's boots crunched loudly against the gravelly path leading up to the front door. He knew this could be heard inside and only served to remind him that he could no longer delay the inevitable. Reluctantly, he took out his key and slipped it into the lock. Hearing it cluck open Peter inhaled in deeply as he pulled down the door handle and stepped inside.

Elizabeth Johnson had not been able to relax all weekend. Specifically, from sixteen minutes past ten the previous morning.

She and her son had been out together doing the weekly shop in Waitrose in the middle of the frozen vegetable aisle when Peter's phone had started to ring. He didn't say who it was but the serious expression which clouded his face as he turned away from her told Elizabeth without him needing to.

"Argent." He greeted. "Go ahead."

Already gritting her teeth Elizabeth had tried not to look too worried when he finished up the call and looked back to her with an apologetic smile.

"Was that work?" She asked. "Do they need you?"

"Yeah, straight away." He replied, nodding. "The whole team."

"Where? Is it…"

Elizabeth understood that she wasn't allowed to know anything and also that Peter wasn't meant to tell her. But this was always the worst moment for her. With one phone call, he was now a soldier again and she could that tell his mind was already wandering away from her and onto the job at hand. Though she couldn't be prouder of him, there was always the lingering fear of knowing just how dangerous his occupation was.

"The New Forest." He said. "Just a recon for now, there's been a suspicious occurrence."

Occurrence usually meant someone had died, though Peter never wanted to tell her this directly.

"Do they know what it is yet?"

"No, but it won't be anything I can't handle." He reassured. "Maybe something, probably nothing."

"You say that every time, Peter."

"Mum, I say it because it's true." He told her. "I'll be okay. Stefan and the boys will have my back, and it's not even a full-blown invasion this time."

"For now it isn't." Elizabeth sighed. "When will you be back?"

"A day, maybe two. I've got to go to Southampton first and get properly briefed, but I'll call you as soon as I can."

With little choice but to let him go, Elizabeth nodded reluctantly.

"Right, take my car and grab your bike from home." She said. "I'll ring dad and ask him to come and meet me to help finish the shopping."

Fishing her car keys from her handbag, she pressed them into his hand.

"Thanks, mum." He said, smiling. "Right, I better go."

Before he was able to dash off, however, Elizabeth caught hold of his arm and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Please be careful." She whispered into his ear. "Come home safely."

"I will. I promise."

That had been almost thirty-six hours ago, and for most of that time there hadn't been a word heard from him. But even though Elizabeth was used to these extended periods of silence she hated the bouts of worrying that had continued to plague her. Doing little to ease those fears, the main headline of the Sunday lunchtime news had concerned the New Forest.

A whole river had been drained after collapsing into an undiscovered cavern.

No-one had been reported to have been hurt and interviewed experts had done their best to come up with an explanation, most of them astounded it had happened at all. Yet, Elizabeth felt it was no coincidence such a peculiar event could have happened in such close proximity to where her son was meant to be working.

She had finally been allowed some relief when Peter had texted her that afternoon.

The three messages she had received had been short and continued nothing more than a reassurance that he was back at his barracks and that he would be home sometime that evening. Elizabeth had resisted the urge to call him right up until Peter had told her he was about to set off. When his phone went unanswered, however, she had been forced to reassure herself that he was already on the road or simply was tired and in a hurry to get back.

Having slightly overcooked the lasagna that evening as a consequence of her worrying, Elizabeth had welcomed the distraction of scrubbing the burned remnants out of the ceramic dish. It and the rest of the pots, plates and pieces of cutlery were soon gleaming from her efforts. Drying each of them by hand, she had tried not to look at the clock mounted on the wall next to her.

It was almost a quarter to nine by the time the front door finally opened.

"Oh, thank goodness!" She breathed. "Peter, is that you?"

Leaving the last of the plates she had been about to put away, Elizabeth dashed out of the kitchen and through the dining room before bustling into the narrow hallway where Peter was stood by the front door, his keys in one hand and his bike helmet in the other.

But Elizabeth's beaming smile fell away when she saw the look on his face.

Peter was clearly exhausted and in need of a good meal and his bed and she had been expecting this knowing he had spent the previous night in the middle of nowhere, dealing with goodness knows what it was UNIT had sent him to sort out. But never, as he did right now, had her son looked quite so unhappy even now that he was home.

Guilty was the word that came to mind, as though he was about to deliver news of something he didn't want her to know.

It seemed to take him a moment to register that she was even stood there at all, and even then he waited until he had set down his helmet onto the floor before saying anything. Dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing the day before, he had also brought home with him his large Bergen rucksack which normally remained behind at the barracks.

"Hey, sorry, I er... Long day."

"I know that sweetheart, but are you alright?" Elizabeth asked. "You seem a little… off?"

"Do I?" He replied with a slight chuckle. "I'm done in, that's for sure."

He sounded nervous and Elizabeth was now certain that he was hiding something from her. He had ignored her call, and not even properly greeted her when he had come in. With a sudden sinking feeling, she wondered if the news had been wrong about no-one being hurt. Peter had a dangerous job, and there was always the possibility that someone might not have returned home this time.

Stepping forward, she gently took hold of his hand.

"Peter? What is it?" She questioned. "You can tell me. Is everyone all right, no one got hurt or -"

"No, everyone's fine. Well, Davidson got a few scratches, but he'll be fine. It's just..."

His words tailed away from him again and Elizabeth noticed that he wasn't quite looking her in the eye. Before anything else could be said, however, the lounge door next to them swung open.

"There he is!" David Johnson laughed. "Fresh from saving the world!"

Joyfully striding over and clapping his arms around his son, he laughed again upon seeing Peter's weary face. "But maybe not so fresh-faced, hey?" He said, grinning. "You look like you need to get some food in you, or maybe a stiff drink. Mum's left you some lasagna and -"

"David, let him get in first!" Elizabeth sharply scalded. "Honestly, and can't you see that something's wrong?"

Peter winced as he saw his father's brow furrowed with confusion.

His throat was completely dry as both his parents then looked his way, their expressions identical in demanding that he provide some input to this. Peter had been about to give it as well, he had been on the verge of telling his mother everything when the arrival of his dad had prevented the words from coming about.

The Doctor, the murderous bat creatures and their insatiable appetite for blood and life. The offer to go in the TARDIS to Valerus and...

Everything he'd been holding onto all day had been about to spill out of him. But now, with both of them stood in front of him with such concerned and troubled faces, Peter lost his nerve and bottled it at the very last moment. His next words to them were nothing but a downright lie.

"Nothing's wrong, mum." He reassured her. "I'm just really really tired, that's all."

His mother was a foot shorter than he was, and outwardly this presented a kindly-looking woman. But it was a mistake to assume that this made Elizabeth Johnson a pushover and Peter knew from plenty of experience that crossing her was just as dangerous as any of the monstrous aliens he had previously encountered.

If he hadn't of known that she was human, he might have been convinced she was part wolf given her ability to suss out when she was being lied to.

"No, I know when something's wrong with you, Peter." She told him sternly, folding her arms. "What is it?"

"I'm fine, honestly." He insisted, flashing her what he hoped was a convincing smile. "It was a tough job, that's all. Quite a tale, really. Giant bats and secret underground caves."

Fortunately, this was enough to disarm his father as the look of accusation dropped in favour of a large smile. With a laugh, he pointed over his shoulder and into the lounge at the television in the corner of the room. Right now it was showing the horse racing results from the weekends meets at Exeter, Newcastle and Sandown Park.

"Yes, we did hear something on the news." He said. "A river caving in, was that you?"

"Maybe," Peter replied, shrugging. "You know I'm not allowed to say, dad."

But even the Official Secrets Act wasn't going to save him from having to tell them the truth, and he could almost hear the conversation in his head even now.

Yes, mum. Something is wrong because in three days time I'm jetting off into space in a time machine that looks like a big blue police box with a madman who's also an alien. Oh, and when I'm away I'm also going to be visiting the planet where I was born, just in case I have another family there that I might want to meet and live the rest of my life with.

None of this came out, however, and Peter forced out a deliberately long yawn.

"You are tired." His dad pointed out. "Why don't you go on up to bed?"

Grateful that the trick had worked, Peter nodded as though thankful of this.

"Yeah, I will." He responded. "I'll skip the lasagne, thanks. I'm not hungry."

Another lie made obvious as his empty stomach growled in protest, begging for sustenance. His mother heard it and raise a suspicious eyebrow at him. She was about to argue back when David, perhaps sensing his wife's next words, quickly leapt to his son's defence once again.

"Go on, Peter." He said. "I'll bring you up a cup of tea in a few minutes."

Not trusting himself to say anything further, Peter didn't dare look his mother in the eye as he picked up his helmet and scooted past them both before making his escape as he headed up the stairs and turned left towards his bedroom.

With her husband leaving to put the kettle on, Elizabeth was left standing on her own in the hallway as she continued to look up the stairs. Debating for a moment whether or not to follow after Peter and get the truth of what he was hiding out of him, she eventually decided against it.

Confronting her son would do them both no good and Peter would only attempt to conceal it from her even more.

The sharp ringing of the house phone distracted her from her thoughts, and Elizabeth turned on her heel and walked into the lounge. Picking up the handset, she pressed down on the answer button and was greeted by Emma Amell's voice.

"Oh, hello Emma. How are you?" She greeted. "How's Stefan? Peter's just got home, do you want to -"

But Emma quickly dispensed with any pleasantries and immediately got straight to the point why she was calling.

"Liz, I don't want to say too much if Peter hasn't already told you." She quickly told her. "It's just that Stefan has been ringing him and, well... Has he told you?"

"Told me what?"

Emma must have heard the ironclad tone of her voice because she faltered slightly on the other end of the line.

"Ah… He hasn't told you." She replied. "Right, well maybe -"

"Emma, if something is going on with him I have the right to know."

"Yes, of course." The younger woman agreed. "But perhaps -"

"Wait, hang on a minute. Don't say anything else."

Pressing her hand over the phone, Elizabeth quickly made her way into the kitchen and over to the sink. Turning the tap on fully, allowing cold water to freely pour into the sink, she waited a moment before taking her hand away from the phone again.

Stood making Peter's cup of tea, David frowned at her and stopped to watch.

Given the age of the house, the walls and floors were quite thick, and it was difficult for anyone to hear anything that was being said in any other room unless the door between them had been left open. Still, on the rare occasion that they wanted a completely private conversation, David and Elizabeth would always make sure they had it next to a form of running water so that Peter was unable to use his heightened hearing to listen in on them.

"What's going on?" David asked. "Who's on the phone?"

"It's Emma." His wife mouthed back. "Something about..."

But Emma must have heard the running water and knew that it was now safe for her to beginning speaking again.

"Okay, now I've only just been told all of this." She said. "I thought Peter might have already said, and Stefan has smoothed over the details somewhat."

In the background, Elizabeth heard a noise of protest that must have come from Stefan himself.

"Emma, just tell me." She pleaded. "What is going on, what isn't Peter telling me?"