Peter's sleeping when Alfred arrives, stress and exhaustion finally catching up to him. He wakes up to the sound of none-too-quiet voices in the next room.
"Are you kidding me? Thanks for the faith in me, mate."
An all-too familiar tone, Jet's joking accent.He's alright. Its improbable, but undeniable. The thing Peter has barely let himself hope for somehow has come true. And just like that, Peter's fully awake. He needs to see with his own two eyes, to confirm that Jet is okay. He gets up and pads quietly across the floor, stealth trained by decades of practice.
"We only managed because we had help." Alfred's voice chimes in the conversation. "We might have been in trouble if it weren't for him."
Peter stops at those words. Alfred was saying that they survived because of Peter. And something in Peter's chest is stirring, a familiar feeling he'd almost forgotten. Finally, Peter had done something other than running and hiding. He'd helped someone. And because of that, he'd managed something he hadn't done since before the bunker. He'd saved someone. It makes Peter feel warm inside, and his face pulls oddly, trying to form a smile that it hasn't made in decades.
Peter makes his feet move again, fully and confidently into the doorway. And there they are, like a dream, backs to him. Jet's shoulder is wrapped in bandages, and his arm is in a sling, but he's still standing straight and firmly, and Peter thinks his back has never looked so strong. Alfred is rocking on his feet, like he's in a rush to go somewhere, but is trying to be patient. The other brother, James, is leaning on the counter and doesn't see Peter, but Mathew does, and he locks eyes with Peter for a moment.
Then Mathew throws Peterinto the conversation.
"Ah, by the way, I found someone you wouldn't believe."
Mathew makes a face like a grin, but doesn't quite succeed at looking happy.
"Missing anyone by the name of 'Peter'?"
Alfred stops rocking, going stiff and still, and Jet catches his breath suddenly.
"You've seen Peter?" Alfred's voice is sharp. "Is he okay?"
Mathew's strange smile twists a little bit more as he responds.
"Yeah, you could say that."
This time it's Jet who speaks sharply.
"What does that mean?"
In response, Mathew points, and Peter suddenly finds himself the focus of four pairs of eyes.
"Well, he's here." Mathew says dryly.
And something moves, impossibly fast for the size, and Peter barely has the chance to flinch before he's suddenly constricted with fierce arms. Peter's on the verge of screaming, biting, thrashing, anything he can to escape- but he recognizes the strong arms holding him too tightly, and the sound of the voice speaking into his hair.
"Oh, thank god."
It's Alfred who's holding him so tightly Peter can barely breathe, breathing shakily like he's trying not to cry. And Peter should be uncomfortable - he's restricted, he can't move or run, he's weak and can't defend himself-but strangely, he's not. His body responds before Peter even processes how strange his response is, melting into the mugs and clinging to Alfred tightly. Then Alfred is pulled off him with a muttered, "Back up, Mate" and Jet takes his place with a comforting one-armed hug, just as tight and comforting as Alfred's. And Peter finally understands the comfort he's feeling from their embraces.
It feels like a long-forgotten concept, buried under years of fear and trauma. It feels like comfort. It feels like home.
"Jet! Alfred!"
He's so emotional he can only call their names, unable to articulate a proper sentence, but somehow he feels like both Alfred and Jet understand anyways.
Finally, after a long time, but still too soon, Peter is released, and Jet busies himself looking Peter over critically.
"You're really alright?"
The words are so ridiculous all Peter can do is stare, because he wasn't the one who wasshotbut Jet's still acting like he was. Peter finds his words with a high-pitched squeak.
"You got shot!"
Jet blinks, then grins, making a show of stretching hsi shoulder, despite the bandages, but Peter doesn't miss the wince he tries to hide.
"This? This is nothing, I'll heal in no time."
And with those words Peter knows that Jet is the same as the rest of them. Like Peter, he's not human. But Peter doesn't ask Jet about that. There's something that's more important to say.
"I'm sorry."
His eyes are burning, and Peter scrunches up his face so he doesn't cry.
Jet stops making exagerated movements with his arm and Alfred chokes on air.
"What?"
Peter finds himself tracing the flooring beneath his feet, old and yellowed tiles, cracked in places.
"I ran away." Peter explains guiltily. "I left you guys alone."
Mathew makes a strange sort of sound in his throat, and Peter casts a quick look around to guage the reactions of the adults surrounding him.
Mathew has that same twisted look on his face, and James looks bewildered, like he doesn't understand why Peter is apologizing. Alfred looks completely blank, and Jet is making an unusually serious face.
"You don't need to apologize for that." Jet corrects firmly, "It's my job as an adult to look out for kids like you. I'm just glad you're safe."
Alfred remembers himself and cuts in too.
"You have no Idea how worried we were when we couldn't find you! We'd rather you be safe than in danger, no matter the situation."
Peter can't take comfort in those words, because he knows something Jet and Alfred don't. Because Peter isn't a normal kid, and he won't die that easily from a bullet. And even knowing this, Peter still chose to run, leaving the two people who took care of him sincerely alone. Peter swallows heavily.
"I don't need to be protected." his voice is lower than he means it to be when he speaks. "I could have helped, but I ran away."
"But you did help?" Alfred's voice is too bright and cheery, like he's discussing a fun movie. "You woke us up and warned us. And besides, you came back, didn't you?"
And Peter starts, looking to Alfred to try and read his expression with wide eyes. Alfred looks startled that Peter was startled.
"That was you right? The one who sniped that dude?"
Peter is stunned. He'd almost forgotten what he did, doubling back to save them like they'd saved him, and he'd never have thought they would know it was him. After all, he was just a kid in Alfred and Jet's eyes, and who would expect a kid to be able to snipe a person in the dark without proper gear? But Alfred was still looking at him, so Peter nods slowly, dazed.
Alfred grins.
"See! You didn't abandon us, so it's all good!"
Peter's eyes are briming again, for a different reason now, but he blinks those tears away too. Peter doesn't want to cry anymore. Jet ruffles his hair with a large and warm hand.
"You did good, kiddo."