Warnings: Language.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Notes: Peter runs. Set when they're 16 or so.
He was late. Very late and Walter was going to be fucking fuming. He'd skipped out of class early to check out David's new car, a vintage Firebird with a great body and shit for an engine and Peter was probably going to spend the rest of the year rebuilding the thing. He'd passed on getting home in time for dinner to flirt with Angela instead, also a great body but she was vapid beyond imagining and he couldn't really put much enthusiasm into the production. He'd missed curfew to hit up a party in Belmont that turned out to be a complete waste of time and he was cranky and tired and did not want to be yelled at by Walter.
He was a few blocks from home when the echos of pain and fear hit him, her voice screaming in his head.
He slammed on the breaks and sat panting for a moment. He could see the glow from the fire and feel them waiting, feel her chanting run run run. He put the car in reverse and whipped around, headed west looking for any sort of perimeter guard they might have put in place. Traffic was almost nonexistent this early in the morning and he made the edge of the city in record time. He scanned the road behind him in a nervous pattern.
He could feel the plan forming in her mind even as she sobbed against Nick, saw flashes of her dream and forced away the consuming grief that Walter's last act was to protect him. His hand shook when he turned the radio on to provide background noise. He debated leaving the interstate for smaller roads but decided he'd make better time this way. For now. Soon he'd have to ditch the fucking car, he'd be too easy to find in it. Ditch the car, change directions, throw them off. The training was kicking in, taking over. He'd need cash and a couple stolen credit cards, another car, clothing. He thought about going after the money in their accounts but it was too risky. He just wasn't fucking prepared for this.
The sun was wheeling its way across the mid-morning sky when he felt there was enough distance and pulled off the road.
The rest stop was nearly empty. A few trucks that hadn't moved out with the morning's arrival. An old man walking a little dog. He walked across the sparse grass to a table near the back of the clearing. The dense wall of trees rustled in the light wind. He sank to the bench and watched the parking lot, watched the cars pass and knew he'd be looking over his shoulder forever.
The wall was there now, like when she didn't want him to know something, like when they practiced keeping each other out. It was stronger though, better and he knew she wasn't fucking around, that when she was done they'd never be able to use her to find him. He loved her for protecting him, for lying for him and he hated her because she had Nick and he was alone. For a brilliant second he could feel her so clearly, feel Nick behind her, then they were gone and he dropped his head to his hands and sobbed.