Karma? (Peter, Aly, Dream!Emma, Spectre)
For days, Peter had dreamt of nothing but...well...nothing. All of his visions had come to him during skull-shattering seizures which was probably one of his least favourite things ever. But it seemed that fate, or what have you, was finally willing to give Peter, or more succinctly, the object of his dreams, a break.
Peter slipped under while reading a book, the book hitting him in the face without a reaction from him. His body and mind were too exhausted to notice the inoffensive paperback rebounding off his nose and slipping to the side where Peter's place was promptly lost. Ah, fate was fickle. But a place lost, meant a person found.
Peter was in the same dark corridors as before, being dragged by the arms towards a workroom he knew the contents of all too well. Peter also knew the men holding his arms were Templar, and that they were going to torture him senseless...in what he would reluctantly call the best of circumstances. What he did not know, was if he was indeed the subject of his dreams, the owner of the arms being held, or if he was simply taking the place of the true person meant for the suffering.
That was where Spectre came in. Spectre was an angel and as such, he could slip into the land of dreams and the subconscious and he did just that around about the time Peter was begging mercilessly as the Templar readied him for the strappado. Peter's panicked eyes swivelled over to rest on his friend and immediately he started to beg. Beg for Spectre's assistance. "Adrian! Adrian please, stop them! Help me!"
The problem with that was that Spectre couldn't interfere with the dream, nor could the denizens of the dream see Spectre at all. They continued about their business, affixing Peter's arms to the strappado. "Adrian, make them stop, I can't! I can't do it again!"
To Spectre's eyes, the person in front of him was not his friend Peter Kemp at all. In fact, in was Emma Kemp, Peter's sister-in-law of sorts. The woman who had run out on Peter's sister and their family only months after their civil union because things had gotten too scary in London. It was horrifying to see the poor woman in such a state, and slightly odd to hear her calling him by his real name, as pretty much only Peter and Mara did. But that was not his purpose here. Emma was in danger, as the dream clearly showed. And Peter needed to know that, despite his frantic begging. This was a dream. Emma's predicament was not. "Peter! It's not you, it's Emma. Emma Kemp." Spectre didn't leave the dream then, though he hung back to try to gain as much information as possible.
It took a moment, but eventually understanding dawned in Peter's terrified eyes and he knew what his friend was saying. He was in Emma's place in this dream world. And it was she who was suffering the very real events that were echoed here, out in the real world. "Emma..." Peter practically whispered.
"You going to give us her name then?" A Templar said as he finished affixing Peter to the strappado. "All we want is her name. You have accepted God's forgiveness. You will use your popularity to spread His good word. But we must have the name of your wife. She too must be cleansed."
Peter's jaw firmed with newfound bravery. No one was touching Liz. "Raise me up." He growled at them, his voice whimpering despite his bravado. Peter looked up at the strappado above him. "Raise me up and damn you all to hell."
Peter awoke with a scream as the memory of pain still hung around him, lurking in the shoulders that had once been so horribly stretched by that vicious instrument of torture.
Emma.
Peter jumped up from his bed, nearly tripping on the book he had been reading before he fell asleep, and he raced down the stairs towards his front door. "I have to go find Liz!" he yelled as he ran.
Aly, hearing her husband's plight, darted into the entrance hall. "Peter, is everything okay?"
"It's Emma." Peter said, breathless as he tried to pull his shoes on while standing up. "It's Emma and Liz needs to know."
Aly, who was adept at translating Peter even when he gave very little information, understood what he was talking about at once. "Be careful, Darling." She reached for his keys and the second he had successfully pulled his shoes on, she pressed them into his hand and gave his cheek a quick kiss.
"Thank you." Peter said gratefully, and then he raced out the door to his car.
Ever practical Aly shut the door behind him, and then she went quickly to the phone to let Liz know a frantic Peter was headed her way. Surprise was never a good way to go with these things. And she too had dealt with knowing the person she loved was going through horrible things when the Templar had had him. Liz would need Aly too. And Aly wanted, more than anything, for Liz to know she was here.
Peter slipped under while reading a book, the book hitting him in the face without a reaction from him. His body and mind were too exhausted to notice the inoffensive paperback rebounding off his nose and slipping to the side where Peter's place was promptly lost. Ah, fate was fickle. But a place lost, meant a person found.
Peter was in the same dark corridors as before, being dragged by the arms towards a workroom he knew the contents of all too well. Peter also knew the men holding his arms were Templar, and that they were going to torture him senseless...in what he would reluctantly call the best of circumstances. What he did not know, was if he was indeed the subject of his dreams, the owner of the arms being held, or if he was simply taking the place of the true person meant for the suffering.
That was where Spectre came in. Spectre was an angel and as such, he could slip into the land of dreams and the subconscious and he did just that around about the time Peter was begging mercilessly as the Templar readied him for the strappado. Peter's panicked eyes swivelled over to rest on his friend and immediately he started to beg. Beg for Spectre's assistance. "Adrian! Adrian please, stop them! Help me!"
The problem with that was that Spectre couldn't interfere with the dream, nor could the denizens of the dream see Spectre at all. They continued about their business, affixing Peter's arms to the strappado. "Adrian, make them stop, I can't! I can't do it again!"
To Spectre's eyes, the person in front of him was not his friend Peter Kemp at all. In fact, in was Emma Kemp, Peter's sister-in-law of sorts. The woman who had run out on Peter's sister and their family only months after their civil union because things had gotten too scary in London. It was horrifying to see the poor woman in such a state, and slightly odd to hear her calling him by his real name, as pretty much only Peter and Mara did. But that was not his purpose here. Emma was in danger, as the dream clearly showed. And Peter needed to know that, despite his frantic begging. This was a dream. Emma's predicament was not. "Peter! It's not you, it's Emma. Emma Kemp." Spectre didn't leave the dream then, though he hung back to try to gain as much information as possible.
It took a moment, but eventually understanding dawned in Peter's terrified eyes and he knew what his friend was saying. He was in Emma's place in this dream world. And it was she who was suffering the very real events that were echoed here, out in the real world. "Emma..." Peter practically whispered.
"You going to give us her name then?" A Templar said as he finished affixing Peter to the strappado. "All we want is her name. You have accepted God's forgiveness. You will use your popularity to spread His good word. But we must have the name of your wife. She too must be cleansed."
Peter's jaw firmed with newfound bravery. No one was touching Liz. "Raise me up." He growled at them, his voice whimpering despite his bravado. Peter looked up at the strappado above him. "Raise me up and damn you all to hell."
Peter awoke with a scream as the memory of pain still hung around him, lurking in the shoulders that had once been so horribly stretched by that vicious instrument of torture.
Emma.
Peter jumped up from his bed, nearly tripping on the book he had been reading before he fell asleep, and he raced down the stairs towards his front door. "I have to go find Liz!" he yelled as he ran.
Aly, hearing her husband's plight, darted into the entrance hall. "Peter, is everything okay?"
"It's Emma." Peter said, breathless as he tried to pull his shoes on while standing up. "It's Emma and Liz needs to know."
Aly, who was adept at translating Peter even when he gave very little information, understood what he was talking about at once. "Be careful, Darling." She reached for his keys and the second he had successfully pulled his shoes on, she pressed them into his hand and gave his cheek a quick kiss.
"Thank you." Peter said gratefully, and then he raced out the door to his car.
Ever practical Aly shut the door behind him, and then she went quickly to the phone to let Liz know a frantic Peter was headed her way. Surprise was never a good way to go with these things. And she too had dealt with knowing the person she loved was going through horrible things when the Templar had had him. Liz would need Aly too. And Aly wanted, more than anything, for Liz to know she was here.