NOTE: Okay, so this chapter wasn't going to have another chunk of Peter's past in it, but then Neal got talking (you know how he is) and kind of triggered something. I like to pretend that I have control over my stories and characters...but I don't. Honestly. It's a little disturbing at times.

Chapter Thirty-four

"I've been hustled." Neal chuckled.

"Hustled?"

"Hustled." Neal confirmed as he pointless moved his King out of 'check' knowing that no matter what he did Peter would have him in one more move. "There is no way you just started playing this game."

"Between you and Mozzie this is the fifth match I've played." Peter said as he took Neal's defending Knight. "Checkmate."

"Amazing." Neal chuckled as he knocked over his King to admit defeat.

"You shouldn't have let me watch you play against yourself."

"Oh?"

"It showed me how you think both defensive and offensively."

"You watched me play three games like that, the first time it was near the end before you even knew the rules. You memorized my tactics in that time?"

"It's a pattern, I can memorize almost any pattern or series of numbers up to forty digits with a single viewing, given a chance to study I can more than triple that."

"That really is incredible."

Peter smiled, he'd never really found any pride in his talent since it had always just been expected of him before.

"We have to play the numbers game with Mozzie." Neal chuckled. "That will drive him crazy, he's very proud that he can memories a series of eighteen digits with a single reading. He beats me every time, I can't get past sixteen."

"That is still more than double the average human capacity for number recall."

"You said any pattern?" Neal asked thoughtfully. "What about movement on a keyboard?"

"What do you mean?"

Without explaining further Neal gathered up the chess game and pushed it to the side. He pulled his laptop closer before moving his chair to the end of the table so that Peter was sitting to his right rather than across the table from him. Once again Peter eyed the other laptop, after having the saffron rice for dinner Neal had challenged him to chess. It had seemed as good a way to waste time as any, although Peter was starting to think up an excuse to retreat to his side of the house. On a new mission Neal opened a word document and then reduced the screen brightness until it went completely black. Peter still didn't understand until Neal started typing.

"'Can you read this?'" Peter translated.

"Oh that is cool." Neal beamed. "Try it again."

Peter watched as Neal typed out a longer sentence. This wasn't a trick he'd ever tried before, but he found it came easily. Just like any other pattern he'd ever came across his mind naturally absorbed and interpreted it.

"'It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.'" Peter read aloud, adding the author and title himself. "George Orwell, 1984."

"You were allowed to read that?" Neal asked surprised.

"It's not difficult, with your traditional 'home key' typing style it's easy to read the motions."

"No, I meant the actual book. I would think that 1984 would be the kind of free thinking and rebellious subject matter that the Market would not want Animula reading."

"Very few Animula read recreationally so it's not regulated." Peter explained. "Besides, in the end Winston ends his 'stubborn, self-willed exile' from Big Brother, he gives up his love for Julia, and he embraces the Party."

"He doesn't give up anything," Neal corrected "he's tortured until it's taken from him."

Uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation Peter didn't respond. Since Neal had sounded genuinely surprised that he knew the reference Peter doubted that he had purposefully chosen the line to draw him into a conversation about giving in to torture. Although it wasn't the first time Neal had tried steering the topic towards something that would lead to a discussion of Peter's past. Peter hadn't decided yet if Neal was truly seeking a better understanding of where he was coming from or if he was just naturally curious about anything unknown. Either way it wasn't something he wanted to talk about.

Peter had learned long ago that even trying to give up in the face of torture didn't always work. A month after Miller had first collared him Peter was everything Allens could want in an Animula or at least what he thought he wanted. Desperate to avoid the cruel correction of the collar Peter no longer spoke unless a direct question that required more than a head gesture was asked of him. He kept his eyes down and unfocused to the point that he was starting to have trouble keeping his vision sharp while reading his computer screen. If he was sitting down when any of the staff entered the room he was on his feet in seconds, if he was already standing he dropped to his knees.

The cost of the new behaviors however was a sharp decline in Peter's ability to do the job he'd been purchased to do. Beyond having difficulty concentrating he had become hesitant to take risks with his accounts. Taking the safer roads with investments lead to poorer performance over all. Having lost his appetite had gone a long way towards making him the listless creature that Allens expected as well, but it wasn't something that he could sustain without falling ill for much longer. Peter felt like he could adjust to the collar if he understood the rules of it, but in Allens' haste to 'fix' him he was not only over using the power, but worse yet he was also highly inconsistent with it. Peter was willing to offer Allens and the other Masters just about anything to avoid having Miller return and increase the setting, but to him it seemed that what the humans wanted was constantly changing. Although Miller hadn't been called Peter still found himself being corrected almost daily for one reason or another even after a month of trying to be 'more Animula'.

Never knowing when he was going to over step some unknown boundary was quickly making Peter neurotic. Anthony had tried approaching him at first but seeing how Peter fearfully drew away he had given in and was leaving him alone. Peter wanted nothing more than to have Anthony's support, but he worried about Anthony ended up in a collar himself for showing too much compassion, something he was told was a human trait even though he'd rarely seen it from them.

Kneeling in Allens' office Peter stared vacantly at the white carpet while he listened half heartedly to his Master about a new account. All he wanted to do was get back to his own desk and he had managed to learn that the best way to do that was to act like he was listening without seeming too attentive. Allens was on his feet, pacing back and forth look almost as nervous as Peter was. All in all the collar had not made them better at interacting with one another the way Miller had promised. Allen suddenly stopped mid sentence in front of Peter as he sniffed at the air.

"What is that smell?" Allens asked as he stepped closer. He wrinkled his nose at the scent as he also noted that Peter's throat was red. "Open your shirt."

Swallowing hard Peter reached up with a shaky hand and loosened his tie that was already fairly loose since he couldn't stand wearing it properly tightened any more. Undoing the top buttons worsened the musky scent and revealed that his skin was a bright red radiating out from under his collar. It wasn't the action of the collar that was causing the irritation, Peter was simply too terrified to touch the collar to keep the skin underneath clean and dry. With the stress he was under it had only taken a week for yeast to take hold under the tight slightly elastic band. With the infection exposed Peter started trembling again, fearing he was going to be blamed for not caring for himself properly.

"Peter..."

Mistaking his own name for the collar's passcode Peter cried out sharply, welding his eyes shut he tensed every muscle in preparation of the lashing pain. He was on such high alert that it hadn't taken more than hearing the first letter to flood his system with adrenaline. The collar didn't go off, but it almost didn't matter at this point the anticipation of the correction was nearly as agonizing as the actual event. Realizing that Allens had only called his name Peter tried to relax only to tense up again as he realized that his lap had suddenly became wet and warm.

"Did you just..." Allens trailed off his question with a look of horror.

More humiliated then he'd ever been at auction Peter bowed his head. Unable to control his shaking Peter stayed on his knees as he waited to see what Allens reaction to the accident would be. He wouldn't be surprised to actually hear the passcode this time but he found he didn't care. At his lowest right now he doubted that pain could make the moment any worse. Turning an ashen color Allens stepped back until he bumped into his desk. The collar usually stole Peter's ability to vocalize any pain. He had thought that the results of the collar use were obvious enough even if he was silent. However Allens looked like he had just realized that for the past month he had been doing far more than just encouraging Peter's supposed instinct to kneel. He stared at Peter for what felt like an eternity before he turned and picked up his phone, slamming a number into it.

"Miller! I have asked you time and time again and each time you swore to me that I wasn't torturing him!" Allens snarled angrily. "Stop giving me that bullshit about Animula not feeling pain. He's so terrified of me that he just pissed on my carpet!"

Peter looked up in surprise at hearing the anger in Allens' voice as he barked at the Market handler. As wrong as it sounded even to himself it did make him feel better to hear that Allens finally understood now how much he was hurting him. Peter briefly even hoped that Allens would remove the collar and give him a second chance, but it quickly became apparent that Allens wanted Miller to come and collect him right this instant. Hanging up the phone Allens sat down at his desk and raked his hands through his thinning hair compulsively. Peter tried to keep quiet, but with very little to lose he eventually decided to break the heavy silence despite the possible consequences.

"Master Allens..." Peter said quietly "please don't send me back to the Market."

"I have to." Allens replied in a hoarse whisper. "I can't keep you, not after this."

"It was an accident, I'm sorry."

"It's not that."

"Then what did I do wrong?"

"It's not what you did wrong, Peter, it's what I've done wrong."

"If...if you give me a second chance, I'll give you one."

"I'm sorry, Peter, I'm going to have a hard enough time looking at myself in a mirror, let alone..." Allens didn't finish his thought as he looked down and started to pointlessly rearrange the stuff on his desk. "Besides, you'll do better with a Master who knows how to better deal with...well...with you."

There had been no where productive to take the conversation from there so Peter hadn't even tried. He had simply asked for permission to clean up and pack before they came to collect him which Allens gladly gave if for no other reason than to get him out of his sight. Peter was siting in the corner of his room by the floor to ceiling window with his knees pulled up to his chest when Miller arrived to escort him back. He didn't say anything, instead he surprised Peter by simply holding his hand out for him to take. Despite the fact that Miller and his collar had caused him nothing but misery Peter had still appreciated the gesture during the difficult transition back to the Market.

Miller never apologized for the collar but he did apologize for leaving him with Allens and blamed him for misusing the technology. He took personal responsibility for Peter's care during his return to the Market and rather than the mandatory solitary Miller arranged to have him placed in one of the rooms that had a view that were usually reserved for Animula that had not started their careers. Miller had removed the collar and tended to the infection until it healed, making note that the material would have to be adjusted to keep the problem from occurring in the future. Even once Peter was physically healthy again he made time to visit several times a week. Although Peter had very little to say to him he enjoyed the company, it was better to be around someone he feared than to be left completely alone.

As much as Peter hated the idea he had to admit that in a way the collar had done its job. It hadn't helped him keep his home with Allens, but it he did manage to keep his next Master for close to four years with far less trouble. The new Master had been demanding, but Peter had just been grateful that the new owner hadn't found any need to collar him. He might had stayed longer if the economy hadn't taken a sudden turn for the worse hurting the company as a whole financially. When a vulture with a bad kidney came to the now struggling company looking for a match he had offered them top dollar for him if no questions were asked, and none were.

"Peter?" Neal asked pulling Peter away from his thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Peter replied automatically.

"Are you back?"

"What?"

"You just zoned out there for a good five minutes."

"Sorry."

"Don't be, it was my fault. I shouldn't have mentioned Winston. I didn't even realize how much what I was saying pertained to you until after I said it."

"It's okay."

"I don't often think before I talk...or act for that matter. I need to work on that." Neal smiled apologetically. "Seriously though, I wasn't fishing for you tell me about your past, I was just talking about the book. I'll try to be more careful in the future."

Almost instantly failing at being careful Neal reached over and put his hand on Peter's arm to emphasize his desire to offer support. Neal had already noted before that he shouldn't touch without asking, but Peter didn't mind the slip. He knew Neal couldn't change his basic outgoing and carefree nature, which seemed to included a need for casual physical contact. With his hand still on Peter's arm Neal suddenly smiled brightly at him with an expectant look. Peter furrowed his brow, uncertain as to why Neal looked so excited. It took Peter a moment, but he slowly came to realize what Neal had noticed instantly.

"I didn't pull away..."

"You didn't even flinch."