They're talking to eachother in hushed voices over Peter's head, and he knows they think he's asleep. He's not.
"He's gotten better."
Jet reflects passively, and Peter knows Jet's talking about him. He doesn't mean to eavesdrop, not originally, but they're talking about him, and Peter thinks its better to know what they think of him, it's the only way he can make sure he fits their needs.
"Huh?" Alfred responds, his tone pure confusion.
"Peter. He's gotten better. 'Member when we first found him, he was always trembling and scared? When we gave him food he reacted like we were gonna kill him."
A hesitation, then Jet continues.
"But lately he's been different. Better."
Peter thinks that's normal, though, in these days, and that it's be stranger for him not to be scared. Peter thinks that Alfred and Jet are the weird ones. Alfred sounds disbelieving when he responds.
"You can't actually think that?" He huffs at whatever expression Jet has. "He's still terrified. He's just less scared of us then everything else. Its not just that either Jet! He doesn't even know how to smile! I'm not sure he ever did! He's terrified of eating meat, and he nearly pissed himself at the sight of the deer earlier!"
Peter wants to say that that's not it, he thinks he should tell Alfred that he's wrong, Peter isn't scared of them, not anymore, but something inside Peter won't let him move or admit he was eavesdropping. Jet responds in an even tone.
"Said he's better mate, not that he's okay."
Peter doesn't want to listen anymore, and makes a show of yawning and wiggling in the bag till he's facing Jet's chest, and the two adults freeze for a moment, breath catching, and Peter can feel their gazes on him, and even though he knows that it's just them, and they won't hurt him, his skin crawls with the awareness. It's been a long time since there were people around when Peter was falling asleep, and Peter can't get used to the feeling. However the feeling is gone soon enough, and as though reaching a silent agreement, Jet lays quietly in his sleeping bag, and Peter can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for Peter to fall asleep. Jet's body radiates warmth like a heater, and Peter doesn't even realize he's drifted off and started dreaming.
Peter dreams of dying. Not the long, drawn out dying, with screaming and pleading and the slow dimming in their eyes as their sobs give way to gasps, then even that fades away quickly. No, he dreams of the other kind, the kind they begged for when it got too hard. Peter dreams of a calm death, one where he's laying next to a shallow grave, chest heaving with his final breath, and his eyes go dark and he feels cold and stiff, and Peter knows he's died. It's colder than he expected, and busier. Peter doesn't really know what he expected, or if he believes in heaven or hell or someplace "after" but he knows he didn't expect this.
There's shadows around, forms he can't really see speaking in voices he knows, but he doesn't know how.
"Peter... stay... love you.."
A gentle yetfirm tone.
"Promise... live..."
A stoic and deep voice with an underlying softness.
"Don't... Protect..."
A voice Peter does recognize, one of the adults at the shelter, one who's been gone so long Peter can't remember her face or name.
"Brother...us... Stick together.."
Who is that? Does Peter have a brother? He can't seem to remember.
"Peter... That... Micro..."
An accent Peter both recognizes and doesn't, a clipped British tone much like his own. The voice sounds somewhat clearer than the rest, more real, and then another voice speaks, a voice Peter knows well, sounding as though it's right next to him. The voice says a name so old that even Peter has almost forgotten it, a name no one else should know.
"Sealand?"
Then, even the voices fade away, and there's just darkness, no sounds or voices, and it feels like forever, just Peter in the darkness, just like backthere,there's only darkness, no one to hear or make noises, not even rats left in that place, and Peter is alone. Its a feeling Peter calls "safety" and a feeling that Peter hates. No one can hurt him when he's alone.
He's safe. It doesn't matter if he's craving something more than food, if he aches for a voice, a gentle touch. Those are things of the past, things he can't have anymore. Voices, touches, all of those are dangerous, things that will hurt him. That's why Peter thinks this empty and silent darkness is what "safety" feels like. It's a long and exhausting dream.
Then, something breaks through the silence.
Its a small sound, like the crack of a twig being stepped on, but that's enough.
Peter wakes up with a sense of urgency, an instinctual fear chasing away any vestiges of sleep. There's movements in the darkness, voices whispering, almost too faint to be heard, but that's not what scares him, he's used to waking to Alfred and Jet whispering. What scares him is that the voices don't have the familiar accents, and the two adults are still sleeping by his side, Jet still lightly snoring. Peter knows that they're being hunted bythem.
He's out of the sleeping bag in an instant, already gathering their belongings into their bags as he kicks Alfred and Jet to wake them. The two men wake with a gasp, and Alfred wakes easier than Jet does, sitting up with wide eyes as Jet mumbles and twists in the bag.
"Alfred, Jet!" Peter hisses the words, and even to himself he sounds terrified. "They're coming!"
Jet wakes instantly, and both are up on their feet in a moment, and Peter shoves the bags to them.
"Peter who-"
There's a rustling from behind that only Peter's sharp ears, trained by years of silence, can catch, and Peter doesn't have time to explain, he knows howtheyhunt, he knows that it's almost too late to escape. Jet is quick to catch on, already finishing packing the bags, and both of them look to Peter with a sense of fear and urgency. Peter hears a click in the dark, and whispers a single word.
"Run!"
And Peter bolts. There's only a second of hesitation, then Alfred and Jet move too. It's a second too late, and Peter hears a retort of a gun, and Jet cries out. Alfred stops.
"Jet?"
Peter doesn't stop.