The scream tearing from his throat turned into a choked off sob as Tomas bolted up in the bed, cold sweet running down his face, whole body shaking and lungs struggling to get in some air. Tomas blinked almost owlishly, trying to figure out what it was exactly that caused such terror to course through his body, but just like for the last three days he came up with blankness. Oh, he remembered the feelings clearly, but the images kept hiding in the shadows.
Tomas swallowed down the feeling of nausea, willing his stomach to settle. Last thing he wanted was to rush out to the bathroom and throw up. With his luck it would wake up either Marcus, Peter or worse, his sister. As he didn't want a repeat of all the worried looks from yesterday, Tomas focused his eyes on the window, hands firmly gripping at the damp bed sheets to steady himself.
'Deep, slow breaths,' Tomas repeated in his mind like a mantra. That was what Marcus told him the last time and seeing as it worked, Tomas gave it a try. After several minutes the nausea seemed to settle along with his heartbeat and Tomas sagged, closing his eyes and lying back down. But that was the wrong thing to do.
The damp bed sheet clung to his skin uncomfortably, bringing forth a familiar feeling of being wrapped in darkness, his mouth and nose covered, unable to breathe...
Tomas hastily crawled out of the bed and looked at the blankets as if they personally betrayed him. With a frown, he ran a hand over his sweaty hair. He cringed, feeling disgustingly dirty. He needed a shower or maybe ten, but he was wary. Last time he went under the shower he came out with boiling red skin. In his haste to feel clean he rubbed his skin almost raw, first under too hot water, then under ice cold as the boiler ran out. When Olivia saw him he got chastised like a five year old and Tomas clammed up. He was happy his sister was safe with them, but the problem was she didn't know the whole truth of what happened. Hell, no one really knew all the details, not even Marcus so how could Tomas explain the need to clean himself?
At least this time he managed to wake up without a scream, or if he made some ruckus it wasn't loud enough for the others to wake up, seeing as no one was bolting through his door.
Still, the shower had lost his appeal, just like the bed and chance of more sleep. He wasn't sleepy anyway, not after spending most of the last three days resting, either on the couch in front of the hearth or on the swing outside. No, he needed to move, to push the thoughts and feelings as far away as possible.
Glancing back at the window Tomas realized that the sun was actually coming up. His watch showed him it was little past six am. Maybe he could just go out for a quick run, to clear his head, before the others woke up. They were surrounded by woods and there was no one around at this time of the day anyway.
Once the thought of a run slipped into his mind Tomas couldn't be stopped. He quickly changed his clothes and silently slipped out of the cabin, feeling a bit like a prisoner trying to escape, but there was also the strange jolt of adrenaline. For the first time since they arrived Tomas felt physically okay and he craved some independence. He felt like everyone was stepping around him carefully as if he was going to break any second. While he appreciated all the care they were showing him, having someone ask him how he was feeling every ten minutes was just a bit too much. The concerned glances Olivia was throwing him since she arrived were stifling and it didn't help that Marcus also looked worried and on the verge of saying something.
When Tomas asked the second day what was the matter, Marcus just shook his head and gave him a placating smile. At the time Tomas didn't have the energy to pursue the matter but he knew that something must've happened at the warehouse that scared Marcus. Something he didn't want to tell Tomas.
The only person who was giving him some space was Peter and Tomas was strangely appreciative of that. Peter seemed to be keeping his distance, mostly because he was busy getting in touch with some of his contacts and trying to figure out their next steps as well as keeping an eye on the current situation in Chicago. Of which Tomas was purposefully kept out of, which was just another thing that annoyed him to no end.
With all this on his mind, Tomas didn't feel the least bit guilty about leaving the cabin without a note about his location. There was something freeing about slipping out just as the sun was peeking out between the trees, the summer air still crisp but with the hint of the oncoming warmth. Tomas paused a few feet from the cabin, taking in several deep breaths. The air here was fresh, smelling of the woods and pine trees, an earthy smell accompanied with a touch of water. The birds were already chirping and the sky had that purplish orange tinge as the darkness gave way to light. Tomas thought it was perfect, even as he set out on the path that led to the lake. It was like a siren's call and he found himself running faster and faster, until the path gave way to the blue surface of the water.
Tomas was out of breath by the time he reached the lake, his body unaccustomed to the run after several days of rest.
He stopped at the sight of the serene view. The path from the cabin led to a small beach filled with pebbles. There was no pier, just a straight entry into water. The lake wasn't large, nothing compared to Michigan, but it took up the length of at least six large swimming pools. There were trees circling the whole length of the lake with the west part of the lake being adorned by a bush of cattails between which several ducks rested.
Tomas saw the lake only once since they arrived, shortly before Olivia came. Afterwards he was too busy being mothered to come here. He tried to remember if Peter said anything about swimming, if the water was clean enough for that or how deep the lake really was, but his mind drew a blank. In the end, it didn't really matter. As far as Tomas saw there was no algae making the water dark green and he was a good enough swimmer to be able to cross the lake without the need to reach the bottom and rest. As for the cleanness... maybe some cold lake water could get rid of the dried sweat on his skin and the feeling of ghostlike touches enveloping his body like a deathly shroud.
Without much thought, Tomas took off his clothes, all but the underwear and waded into the water. The first cold touch sent shivers through his flesh, but after several strokes the temperature of the water became refreshing, almost comfortable. Taking a deep breath Tomas dunked his head underwater then resurfaced, sputtering a bit but also smiling like an idiot. Yes, he could get used to this.
By the time someone broke through his peaceful escape, Tomas had tired himself with swimming across the lake several times. Now he was just resting, lying on his back, for the moment letting all the tension bleed out of his body as he watched a lonely bird circling above him.
"Enjoying a bit of morning swim?" sounded from the shore and Tomas sighed, knowing his moment of peace was over. Turning, Tomas looked at the newcomer and was a bit surprised that it was Peter. As far as he knew Marcus was usually the first one awake. As he made his way towards the shore Tomas voiced his thought and Peter arched an eyebrow.
"Who says he wasn't? But seeing your bed empty and unable to find you in the cabin he thought it was paramount to wake the rest of us up as well, so we could search for you." There was a bit of a reproach but also amusement in Peter's voice as he made himself comfortable on a nearby tree stump. Tomas paused in the water, his face blushing a bit.
"Sorry. I didn't want to worry you. I thought..."
"You thought you would be back before we awoke," Peter finished when Tomas stopped.
"Yeah. Something like that."
"I figured. It is easy to lose track of time here, I know that from personal experience."
"Uh... are Marcus and Olivia still looking for me?" Tomas asked, uncomfortable at the thought, even more at what he knew Olivia would tell him for making her this worried.
"Marcus went down the other path toward the clearing and Olivia stayed at the cabin, in case you returned. But I texted both of them as soon as I saw you here, so... take your time."
"Thanks," Tomas said, letting out a sigh of relief. „I'll just... do another round if it's okay?"
Peter nodded and Tomas set off, burying his head in the water as he crossed the lake then turned back a little more slowly. He was half expecting a disparaged Olivia and Marcus standing on the shore by the time he returned, but there was only Peter, watching him easily. Only as Tomas came closer did he note the slight set of tension in his shoulders.
Tomas didn't really want to leave the water. If he could he would stay there for a few more hours. But his skin was already shriveled and the moment he slowed down his swim he felt coldness creeping in. Biting the bullet, he headed to the shore.
"Here. It wouldn't do for you to catch a cold now," Peter was handing him a fluffy towel and Tomas paused. He hasn't noticed it before, though he wasn't really paying attention.
"You were so sure I was going to be here?" he asked a bit surprised but at the same time thankful as the air hit his wet flesh and sent him shivering.
Peter just shrugged.
"I figured either you be here or I'll have to go back and try to figure out where you went."
"Oh," was all Tomas said as he dried himself and dressed, only then noting the bandage he still had around one of his wrists was soaked through with lake water. He cringed and his hand went up to his left eyebrow. The butterfly bandage was gone as well. "Damn."
"Yeah. Swimming might not have been the smartest idea," Peter noted as he reached out and took off the bandage from Tomas' wrist, inspecting the wound. It was still an angry red color, a livid reminder of what happened.
"Sorry. I forgot," Tomas said as he pulled back his wrist and sit down a few feet away from Peter. It was funny, but not in the ha-ha way, that Tomas indeed forgot about the physical wounds his kidnapping brought on. How could he so easily forget the only visible wounds, when all the invisible ones were festering inside his mind, fresh and throbbing?
"Some things are easier to forget than others," Peter spoke as if reading his mind and Tomas looked up, frowning.
"How..." he wanted to ask how did he know but then he noticed Peter's faraway look and realized he might've not been the only one fighting memories. As if feeling his gaze, Peter's eyes focused and this time the look he gave Tomas bore a clear sign of reproach.
"I know how tempting it is taking a morning swim in this lake, trust me, I've enjoyed more than few myself. But please, don't do it alone."
"You said no one comes here," Tomas protested quickly, the idea of staying cooped up in the cabin already driving him crazy.
Peter raised a hand to stop his train of thoughts.
"I didn't mean that you might be in danger from other people, although you can never be one hundred percent sure no one will appear. You have to be careful."
"I am careful," Tomas grumbled.
"Of others, maybe. But what about yourself?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Tomas frowned. Was Peter implying that he would hurt himself?
Peter sighed then looked like he was trying to chose his words carefully.
"I just meant... your visions. Marcus explained enough about them to me to know you aren't in command of the situation when they happen. It can be dangerous enough on land if you fall or freeze at a bad moment, but... what if you get one during a swim? When there's no one around to help?"
Tomas blanched at the thought. He knew very well the feeling of lead limbs, the inability to command his body. The occasional need to scream at the horror of what he was seeing. If he was hit by a vision during a swim, he would drown before he even realized what was going on. And the others wouldn't even know if he was snatched or got lost in the woods until they found his clothes on the shore...
"I'm sorry, I didn't think-" Tomas shook his head then with a groan buried it in his knees, the images of what if too colorful in his mind.
"Hey, I'm not here to reprimand you. I'm pretty sure Olivia or Marcus will do that once we get back," Peter said, trying to alleviate the mood but only getting another groan of desperation from Tomas.
"Can you maybe not tell them?" Tomas looked up, half begging.
"Sorry kid, already sent the text. Don't worry though. I'm sure if you play your cards right and throw in that kicked puppy look, they'll melt."
Tomas doubted that, knowing his sister was pretty much immune to that look by now. With a sigh, he cursed his own stupidity and grabbed a pebble, throwing it into the lake, watching as it jumped a few times before sinking.
"Was it worth it at least?" Peter asked as Tomas's fingers roamed the beach in search for another, more perfect pebble.
Tomas paused then nodded.
"Yeah," he admitted after a moment. Even if he was in for an earful, the alone time helped. "I think it was."
"Good. If you want to take a swim next time, just let one of us know that's all I'm asking."
Tomas nodded and threw another pebble. It skipped four times before sinking, creating a lot of small waves. Tomas felt like that pebble. Everything he did, however small or inconspicuous, created some trouble for everyone else around him.
"A penny for your thoughts?" Peter asked all of a sudden and Tomas realized he momentarily forgot about him, which was bit of a surprise. He usually didn't let his walls down around other people except for Olivia and maybe lately Marcus. The fact that he felt safe enough in Peter's company to forget about him was pretty telling.
"Not sure they're worth that much," Tomas uttered, then covered his mouth as a yawn broke out. Damn, but he thought three days of resting would be enough. The swim obviously took more out of him than he thought. In any case, Peter noticed.
"Didn't get much sleep last night?" he pried softly and Tomas wanted to tell him to stop but he couldn't find it in himself. How could he snap at the man who was risking his life for him? Maybe the least he could do was to give him the truth.
"Not really," Tomas admitted and sat back down, fingers playing with another pebble but not interested in throwing it away. "I mean... I slept. But then the nightmare woke me up and I just-" Tomas swallowed and shook his head. "I needed to move, to do something."
"Yeah, I was the same when I returned from Afghanistan," Peter admitted softly, giving Tomas a bitter smile. "Flashbacks are a bitch," he said then grimaced.
Tomas frowned in thought.
"You think it's a flashback? Not a dream?"
Peter shrugged.
"I don't know. I had nightmares when I slept, and I had flashbacks when I was awake. It didn't really matter what they were called though. It still sucked."
Tomas could agree with that wholeheartedly.
"Do they ever go away?"
"In time. And with some help."
Tomas looked up a bit dubiously.
"What help?"
"I was told talking about the things that bother you helps," Peter said with a lopsided grin and a shrug. "Sometimes it just needs time."
"I don't know how long I can take this without going crazy," Tomas admitted, for a moment wondering if he wasn't already crazy and this wasn't just a symptom.
"If you need to talk about it Tomas, I'm here. So is Marcus, or your sister."
"I can't talk to Liv about any of this."
"My offer still stands."
"I'm not even sure what to talk about," Tomas admitted honestly. "I don't really remember anything specific, just-"
"Just what?"
"The feelings. That's all I remember."
Peter didn't push for more and maybe that was why Tomas kept speaking, once again getting lost in the memory of the dream, or rather the lack of it.
"It's always the same and I don't know if it's a memory of what happened or just my imagination, but both options scare me to death."
If it was real, Tomas didn't know how he could cope with the thought of the existence of something so vile and plain wrong. If it wasn't, well, in that case Tomas was in dire need of some psychiatric help.
"It was just so dark and empty... like being swallowed by a black hole. It was cold and hostile, like a living being. Like something breathing down my neck but there was nothing real, nothing I could touch." Tomas unconsciously brought his hand to his lips and started worrying at his fingernail.
"I don't know what changed, just that it did. Suddenly there was a buzzing sound, like a horde of bees ready to attack. But I still couldn't see a thing."
He couldn't talk. Not in the dream, not now as a lump formed in his throat and the dream seemed to become more real.
"You don't have to tell me now," Peter spoke when he noted Tomas's growing discomfort and Tomas felt a hand touching his shoulder in silent support. He swallowed down the lump in his throat.
"That buzzing... it was just the start. It grew louder and more persistent. It hurt. And then there were images, flashes. Violent red and purple. There was screaming and so much pain and I wanted to scream too, but something enveloped me. It was over my face like a shroud and I couldn't... I couldn't breathe, I was suffocating. I just felt it touching my skin, seeping in. Then it pushed inside my mouth and... I never tasted anything so wrong. I didn't know anything could feel so bad."
Tomas turned to look at Peter, his eyes wide and face pale.
"If death has a taste, it was this," Tomas said and felt the prick of fresh tears in his eyes. He could see Peter's own eyes widen in horror. Tomas looked away before he could spot the pity he was sure would appear next.
"Is that all you remember?" Peter asked, his voice surprisingly steady.
"Of the dream? Yes," Tomas said numbly.
"What about what really happened? Wasn't there something else? I mean... you did stop that thing from taking over. You fought it off and we all saw it."
"It's all so fuzzy," he muttered, having trouble remembering anything from that night clearly. Even the ride to the cabin was just a blur of moments, worried glances and chest gripping fear. Yet through it all, there was that golden glow and the familiar warmth.
"Did Marcus... did he help me?" Tomas turned a questioning gaze at Peter and the man smiled.
"When we arrived, that thing... it was taking over. I've never seen anything like it," Peter shook his head, voice conveying his disbelief. "Marcus was adamant on getting to you though. He kept praying and you fought. We could see you fighting it off. There was a rush of warmth, like-"
"Like God's breath?" Tomas supplied when Peter couldn't find the right word. He was rewarded by an incline of the head.
"That's one way to describe it, yes," Peter agreed. "Whatever it was, it helped. You pushed that thing away... you destroyed it. And I think that's something you shouldn't ever forget."
„I just wish I knew how I did it... or if it was even me," Tomas said a bit despondently. He spent the last few days thinking, trying to figure out what really happened in that warehouse. He knew he drove one demon out of that possessed guy that was hurting Marcus, though it was mostly instinctive. There was the guilt lurking in the background every time he thought about that man, because he knew he practically killed him, or whatever small part was still there after the demon left. But at the time it wasn't really a choice on his part and the guilt diminished bit by bit each time Tomas caught sight of the wounds on Marcus's forearm.
"Maybe we should head back to the cabin," Peter spoke.
Tomas shook off the thoughts that were still plaguing him. There was really nothing he could do about things that already happened and there was no one to give him clear answers. Better leave it alone. After all, what was the chance he would need to repeat what happened any time soon?
Tomas shuddered at the mere thought and with a resolute sigh, pushed himself off the ground, dusting off his shorts and legs and sending several small pebbles scattering into the water. He wasn't really looking forward to facing Olivia though so his steps were deliberately slow, feet dragging, as if he was heading for his execution. Peter chuckled, but adjusted his own pace. They walked in an amenable silence until Tomas saw the cabin peeking through the trees. He stopped, waiting for Peter to do the same.
"Come on, it won't be that bad," Peter said with a smile, thinking apprehension was the reason for Tomas' sudden stop. Tomas shook his head, worrying at his bottom lip.
"No, it's not that," he said and it was obvious he was working up his courage to say something. Peter raised a curious eyebrow.
"What's on your mind then?"
Tomas muttered something under his breath and Peter frowned.
"Sorry, I didn't get that."
"I said I'm sorry," Tomas repeated a bit more loudly, eyes downcast, one foot digging into the dirt on the road. "I'm sorry for all of this," he added with a sigh and finally looked up. He wasn't sure what he expected to see in Peter's eyes. Either regret or anger, but when their eyes met there was just friendly concern and understanding.
"What exactly are you apologizing for, Tomas?" Peter asked softly and Tomas let out a huff, his arm waving around.
"This? For what happened back in Chicago to Marcus. For the fact you had to leave your home and now we are here, hiding. Just because I'm a freak that can't keep his head down."
"Hey, stop that," Peter said and crossed the distance between them. In a gesture so familiar from Marcus, he tapped Tomas on the chin, making sure he was looking up at him. "Don't call yourself a freak... and don't put this on yourself."
"But I am one! How can you not understand? Even my mother thought so. Do you know she sent me away because I told her how she would die?" Tomas blurted out, for a second satisfied by the look of shock on Peter's face, then instantly becoming scared that he did it, he finally pushed away the person that was just trying to help. Suddenly ashamed of himself, Tomas's head hunched down, his eyes filling up with tears.
"Oh Tomas, just... stop." Without warning, Peter pulled Tomas into a warm embrace. Tomas startled, his whole body tensing as if he was expecting to be hit, but after a moment he relaxed. Peter ran a calming hand over his back. "Now listen to me. I'll repeat this as many times as needed, until you get it into your thick head."
"W-what?" Tomas looked up, confused.
"You're not a freak. You are different, yes, but that doesn't mean there is anything wrong with you. It just means life probably won't be as easy for you as it is for some of your peers."
Tomas sniffed and gave a small nod. So far what Peter was saying made a bit of sense. It still didn't take away from his guilt though.
"As for the apologies... I won't accept them, because none of those things were under your control."
Tomas shook his head stubbornly.
"You wouldn't have to run if you haven't met me," he protested and pulled away from Peter's embrace. Peter let him, though he still kept his hand on Tomas' shoulder, as if worried that he would bolt and run away.
"That's a possibility, yes," Peter agreed with Tomas' statement, though he quickly added: "But then we wouldn't have learned about Maria Walters and father Simon and all the families wouldn't have learned about who was behind the murders of their loved ones. What's worse they would be still free and keep doing what they did."
"But you said the cops didn't catch everyone... that they don't know how deep this cult went. And all those kids I saw in that vision... they are likely all possessed and out there, doing more wrong."
Peter sadly didn't have much to add to that. Truth was even though there were leads linking Maria Walters to the vans used during the murders, it was all circumstantial. A good lawyer and money would get the charges dropped easily. Still, father Simon was dead and according to Jim, the Church was at least made aware of the problem and was sending someone over to investigate. Peter didn't know how much good that would do and Marcus looked pretty skeptical when he learned about it, muttering something about useless pricks.
Peter sighed. There was nothing they could do at this moment, except to keep Tomas safe as long as possible. Train him, make sure he grew up to be able to protect himself. If later on Tomas decided to go and start fighting demons, setting people free, Peter was sure Marcus would be right by his side. Which meant that Peter would be there too to offer any protection he could.
"I don't have all the answers, Tomas. This whole situation is way out of my experience. All I can say is that I don't blame you for any of this. If anything, I'm thankful you came to our lives. You helped Marcus to overcome what happened with Gabriel and I won't ever forget that."
Tomas bit his lip, still shaking his head a little.
"But you lost so much because of me."
"I haven't lost anything that can't be replaced, Tomas. But I gained so much more." Peter said with a smile and ruffled Tomas' hair. Tomas didn't know what to say to that. His face felt hot and there was familiar warmth in his chest. So he simply nodded, then cleared his throat, uttering a barely audible 'thanks'.
"You're welcome. Now let's get inside. I'm getting quite hungry and last night Olivia mentioned something about pancakes in the morning."
Tomas snorted, not sure if he should warn Peter that pancakes from Olivia usually meant a kitchen in disarray. Somehow she always managed to get flour in the most impossible places to clean.
They entered the cabin together and as predicted, there was a clattering of pans and dishes coming from the kitchen area, accompanied by a settling dust of flour and a couple of Spanish swears. Tomas paused in the doorway a bit hesitant to enter the disaster area and face the music, but he felt a light push on his back as Peter followed him inside with a smile on his face.
The sight that greeted them was something to behold. There was Olivia by the stove, trying to flip a slightly burnt pancake, while Marcus was trying to sweep up the floor from the broken bag of flour that seemingly exploded over the whole kitchen. At least that was the only way Tomas could explain how Marcus' blond hair turned white and why Olivia looked like she was getting prematurely grey. Tomas couldn't help it, he snorted. Next to him Peter started to openly laugh and two pairs of eyes snapped up. The smile quickly fell from Tomas' lips as both Olivia and Marcus started in on him. Olivia about scaring her half to death and Marcus about being a bloody irresponsible fool.
He should've felt insulted, guilty or chastised. But somehow, seeing the two people he cared most for, covered in flour and giving him a good talking to like a bunch of worried parents, while the third one was chuckling so hard he had tears in his eyes made Tomas feel warm and safe and just a little too happy. Maybe there was hope and they could become a very strange kind of family. Maybe the future didn't look so bleak after all.
