Chapter Nineteen

Slowly opening his eyes Peter was greeted by the first light of dawn that was casting a red stain across the wooden floor of Neal's apartment. With some of the Dilaudid still swimming in his veins Peter found himself in less pain, but also in less control of his thoughts. Propping himself up on his elbows he looked around somewhat confused. Everything came back to him as he spotted Neal sleeping on the couch with his arm draped over his eyes.

Watching Neal laying vulnerable less than twenty feet away Peter fought with himself on what his next move should be. If he was going to murder his new Master now would be the time to strike. Peter furrowed his brow as he distinctly remembered warning Neal that he was going to kill him in the morning while under the influence of the powerful drugs. Sleeping peacefully near by Neal clearly still didn't see him as a threat.

"If you don't fear me attacking you, why are you insisting on a collar?"

Having asked the question out loud the only answer that came to Peter's mind was that it wasn't fear that drove Neal's decision but rather a desire to control and degrade him. Neal had already shown that he didn't know how to interact with Animula, a collar would be a simple way to remain dominate at all times. Unlike Cheng most owners didn't have a true taste for blood. Collars had been developed for 'self defense' against un unlikely attack, but they were quickly abused by owners to use for punishment for performance issues, or to inflate the egos of the users, or sometimes simply for human entertainment. Most of the owners from Peter's past didn't even have the strength to strike him hard enough to make him hesitant to misbehave again even if they wanted to. The collar was quick and easy to use, it rarely resulted in a physical mark, but it always left a lasting impression.

"The perfect passive aggressive punishment, easy to stay a gentleman if all it takes is a word."

Muttering to himself Peter became less fearful and more angry. Quietly moving so that he was sitting up on the edge of the bed Peter had to pause for a moment as wave of vertigo washed over him. He could feel the heat as it radiated off his skin, but he didn't care nor did he realize the effect it was having on his thought process. Looking down at the forged tattoo Peter ground his teeth in mounting rage. Neal was human, but he wasn't a 'Master', he wasn't even a legitimate owner. The fact that Neal had been fighting to keep him alive was lost on him at the moment as his thoughts became darker. Drugs, fever, and fear distorted his perception of the last few days.

"You have no right to collar me." Peter hissed at the sleeping man quietly as he slowly got to his feet. "And I'm not going to even give you the chance."

Having stayed up until the very early hours of the morning watching over Peter to ensure that he kept breathing Neal was sleeping heavily now. Peter froze as Neal moved him arm off his face and settled it on his chest. Panting for breath against his rage and a dangerously high fever Peter forced himself to remain standing. Once he was sure the Neal hadn't woken Peter stepped forward, causing the IV line to pull tight.

Blinded to any pain he might be in by the adrenaline released from contemplating murder Peter yanked the needle out of the back of his hand and stalked over to where Neal was stretched out on the couch. The sun had fully risen now and the bright day was streaming in through the glass patio doors. A combination of the sixth sense that lets you know someone is close and Peter's shadow falling over him finally woke Neal. He looked up at Peter and smiled brightly.

"Peter, you're up ear..."

Neal stopped cold and gasped in shock when Peter barred his teeth at him like an angry lion seconds before he pounced on him. Grabbing the front of Neal's shirt in both hands Peter used his purchase to haul him off the couch. Falling to the hardwood floor on his back and striking his head Neal didn't have time to react before Peter drove his knee into his stomach. Knocked breathless by the nauseating blow Neal tried to draw breath only to find Peter's forearm pressed firmly against his throat. With his knee still digging into Neal's stomach Peter pinned him down as he leaned a majority of his weight onto the arm that he had across Neal's throat.

Neal kicked uselessly, unable to get good traction against the polished wooden floor with just his socks on. With one arm trapped against his side by the couch Neal could only defend himself by bringing his right hand up and pushing against Peter's chest. Neal was strong and fueled by fear, but Peter had all the leverage, a passionate rage, and a desire to kill that equally matched Neal's desire to live. Snarling at Neal Peter fought to lean in harder while Neal strained to push his weight away. Swallowing convulsively Neal managed a few shallow gulping breaths. Weak from pain and sickness Peter wasn't able to actually crush Neal's trachea, however if he kept this pressure on him Neal would eventually pass out and then he'd be completely defenseless.

Struggling for air Neal slowly started to lose his ability to fight. Peter could feel Neal weaken but found that he couldn't bring himself to put all of his force into a sharp blow that would end his young victim's life. Neal stopped pushing against his attacker's chest and moved to grip Peter's arm. He didn't dig his fingers into Peter's flesh in a last ditch effort to cause pain, instead he held on the way a frightened child would hold a parent to seek comfort. Peter looked down at the terrified man pinned under him as the fog created in his mind from his previous rage began to dissipate. Neal's eyes started to lose their focus and roll back to white as he lost his grip on Peter's arm. With Neal losing consciousness Peter suddenly truly saw what he was doing. Realizing that he was about to take a life Peter jerked away from his captive.

Free from Peter's suffocating weight Neal automatically gasped for breath. He hadn't actually blacked out and now that he was able he scrambled back away from his attacker. Backing himself under the kitchen table Neal's chest heaved as he coughed and sucked for breath. Disoriented by the unexpected assault Neal cowered from Peter rather than retaliated. Having expected Neal to react with lethal force once released Peter stared at Neal in confusion while Neal stared back at him in terror. He was shaking violently from the close call with death. Peter had never seen a human tremble in fear the way he had done so many times before, and he had certainly never had anyone look at him the way Neal was looking at him right now.

Kneeling on the floor Peter bowed his head in defeat. His previous anger had been replaced by a hollow numbness tainted with regret. A strained minute ticked by where neither one them moved. Eventually Neal took the chance that Peter was no longer a direct threat and he slowly crawled out from under the table. Peter looked up causing Neal to freeze in a crouched position. He risked a glance at the door, calculating a way to get there without risking being caught by Peter again. Peter found it surprisingly painful to have Neal terrified of him. His throat was turning a bright angry red and Peter could hear his wheezing breath.

"I'm sorry, Master Neal..." Peter apologized with most of the emotion drained from his voice. "I won't let you collar me...one of us has to die, and I realize now that I would prefer that it was me. I don't want to fight, I don't want to be in pain, I don't want to be afraid, I don't want to be alone. I'm done. I can't do this any more."

"Wha...what?" Neal stuttered hoarsely. He slowly got to his feet but he needed to lean against the kitchen table for support.

"You don't understand...it's more than just the fear of pain...it's the fear of wearing a constant reminder of my last moments with her. I can't, I just can't...and I won't..."

"Peter, I..."

Neal was cut off as there was a knock at the door that startled them both. Mozzie didn't wait for a response as he let himself into the apartment and stepped into the tense scene. Mozzie had entered with a triumphant look on his face with a black canvas case in is hands. However one look at the pair and he instantly became anxious. Peter looked over his shoulder at Mozzie with what he still assumed was a collar in the case, choking on his fear he was instantly seized by a violent fit of dry heaving.

"Peter..." Neal automatically stepped closer to help but then backed away again.

"Neal, what is going on?" Mozzie demanded. "Are you okay?"

"Mozzie, give us a moment."

Peter managed to stop retching, with his arms wrapped around his stomach he just awaited his fate.

"Wha..."

"Mozzie," Neal said more firmly despite his painful voice. "I need you to leave."

"Neal..."

"Go." Neal ordered. "*Now*."