Build a life (Patrick, Peter and Crazy!Aly)
Peter Kemp was sitting behind his desk when Patrick stuck his head around the corner and interrupted whatever work he was doing at the time. Patrick would never know Peter was, in fact, doodling stick figures of Rolf killing the Templar because he had run out of steam on his PhD. It was probably for the best, as it would have shattered Patrick's illusions of Peter as some wise, genius, crazy man who saved people. Patrick didn't need to know he was a doodler too.
"I say, Peter, could I bother you for a titch?" The moment the words were out of Patrick's mouth he looked horrified at his phrasing.
Peter looked up at he arched his eyebrows at Patrick. "Of course, Patrick. Have we gone back in time?"
Patrick laughed nervously. "No, no. I'm...just uncomfortable. Uhm. Your wife is an angel, correct? Lovely eyes, curly hair?"
"Yes..." Peter said, rising from his chair already, as if he knew what Patrick was going to say. "Is she-"
"Come here, darling," Patrick said, extending his hand to the woman who was standing a few feet away from him, looking terrified. Someone had mentioned she was Peter's wife, though when he had asked what her name was, she had refused to answer him. Patrick had been told that Peter's wife sometimes forgot who she was.
Aly took Patrick's hand, but by the time he had led her to Peter's office, the other man was at the door. Patrick backed away, feeling suddenly very much like a third wheel and he looked down at his shoes while Peter reached for Aly's hands.
"Al-" Peter stopped and shook his head. "What's your name?" Patrick heard the sorrow in Peter's voice as he asked.
"Faith," Aly whispered. "I'm sorry to bother you, Good Sir, but there's a man in a mask. He's following me..."
Patrick watched out of the corner of his eye as Peter bit his lip and then he reached up to hold Aly by the shoulders. "I know the man you mean," Peter soothed. "You're safe here. Come on downstairs with me, alright? We'll get you sorted. Just give me a moment." Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket and Patrick knew he was dialling home to make sure his kids were all okay. "Angie? Yes. Yes, she's here with me. Can you? Okay, thank you. Thank you so much." Peter hung up his phone and then he looped his arm around Aly's shoulders. "Do you like cake?"
"I love cake!" Aly said, sounding excited and far younger than her thirty and some years.
"I'll be right back, Patrick," Peter assured him and Patrick looked up, having forgotten that Peter was even aware of his presence.
"Oh...okay," Patrick said, waving at Peter's back and then feeling like a fool.
He wandered into Peter's office, knowing that he was welcome. He stepped over to Peter's bookshelf, leaving as much distance between himself and the damn skull Peter kept in there as possible. Sometimes the skull chattered at him and Patrick didn't like that very much.
"Huh," Patrick mused, looking over some of the titles Peter had. "Angels and Demons by Dan Brown." Patrick chuckled. "Obviously no one told him what that was about. Or the fact that it was written by an idio-"
The skull chattered at him.
Patrick straightened up immediately, the movement causing his errant hair to look as if it was standing on end for a brief moment. "What. What? What do- Do you like Dan Brown?" At that, the skull seemed to chatter angrily. "Do you even know who Dan Brown is?! Oh god...d-don't chatter like that, you'll fall off your pillow and I'm not picking you up! You used to be inside someone's head! That's gross! I mean...you...you're not gross, it's just...oh god..."
Peter re-entered the room and he laid a hand on Patrick's shoulder, causing him to yelp and spin around. "Jesus!"
"Are you angering my skull?" Peter said, reaching forward to pat it gently. It chattered twice and fell contentedly silent.
"Peter," Patrick informed him, "you are really weird. Did you actually really Demons and Angels?"
"It was a gag gift for Christmas." Peter headed back to his desk and Patrick followed him. "I haven't read it yet-"
"Are you alright?" Patrick interrupted him. The man had just had to bring his wife downstairs, probably to a shrink, because she didn't know who she was.
Peter shook his head as he lowered himself into his chair. "Not especially, no. But this...Aly is always alright eventually. I took her to see Abby who usually talks her through things until she remembers them. Thank you for bringing her up here."
"No, it's no trouble," Patrick quickly assured him. "I'm really sorry you have to go through that."
Peter shrugged. "It's alright. She's my wife. I would do anything."
"I know the feeling," Patrick said quietly.
There was silence for a moment and then Peter said, "I'm sure you do. What was her name?"
Patrick hadn't really spoken about his wife or his daughters much, beyond explaining that he had had a family and he did not any more. But after just witnessing someone else's pain, Patrick knew he wasn't alone with his. "Her name was Julia and she was beautiful. My best friend. We had two girls, Alex and Daisy. Daisy wasn't her real name, but she insisted on being called that. She hated that we'd named her Virginia, but it was Julia's mother's name. I'm sorry, I...I don't have to talk about this."
Peter smiled gently at him, an expression Patrick took a lot of strength from. "Patrick, you can tell me anything you'd like."
"It was a car accident. They died in a car accident. All of them. I was playing in a pub across town, not my usual place, and Julia...I guess she decided they would all come meet me after the show. To surprise me. I didn't know because they never showed up. I was having a drink with my friend Paul when the police showed up. I had told her I would be back home late and not to wait up. She loved doing that though. Surprising me. It was almost a year ago now. And I still...I miss them. I lost myself for a little while. A long while. Eight months. I drank constantly. And then...strangely enough...the Templar found me."
"Despite their methods, they are good at motivating people to change," Peter said flatly. "I too lost months to the bottom of a glass. My best friend had been killed in front of me and I had been told it was my fault."
"Did the Templar bring you out of it too?"
"Actually no, it was a fellow university student who made me sleep with her in the campus library stacks, but...that's neither here nor there," Peter said, waving his hands around. "It was some years ago. The Templar motivated me to build this hospital though, as I've said."
"Well they're arseholes," Patrick hissed, "but I need to build a life. I'm only 32. I'm not done yet."
"No," Peter said with a smile. "I shouldn't think so."
"I say, Peter, could I bother you for a titch?" The moment the words were out of Patrick's mouth he looked horrified at his phrasing.
Peter looked up at he arched his eyebrows at Patrick. "Of course, Patrick. Have we gone back in time?"
Patrick laughed nervously. "No, no. I'm...just uncomfortable. Uhm. Your wife is an angel, correct? Lovely eyes, curly hair?"
"Yes..." Peter said, rising from his chair already, as if he knew what Patrick was going to say. "Is she-"
"Come here, darling," Patrick said, extending his hand to the woman who was standing a few feet away from him, looking terrified. Someone had mentioned she was Peter's wife, though when he had asked what her name was, she had refused to answer him. Patrick had been told that Peter's wife sometimes forgot who she was.
Aly took Patrick's hand, but by the time he had led her to Peter's office, the other man was at the door. Patrick backed away, feeling suddenly very much like a third wheel and he looked down at his shoes while Peter reached for Aly's hands.
"Al-" Peter stopped and shook his head. "What's your name?" Patrick heard the sorrow in Peter's voice as he asked.
"Faith," Aly whispered. "I'm sorry to bother you, Good Sir, but there's a man in a mask. He's following me..."
Patrick watched out of the corner of his eye as Peter bit his lip and then he reached up to hold Aly by the shoulders. "I know the man you mean," Peter soothed. "You're safe here. Come on downstairs with me, alright? We'll get you sorted. Just give me a moment." Peter pulled his phone out of his pocket and Patrick knew he was dialling home to make sure his kids were all okay. "Angie? Yes. Yes, she's here with me. Can you? Okay, thank you. Thank you so much." Peter hung up his phone and then he looped his arm around Aly's shoulders. "Do you like cake?"
"I love cake!" Aly said, sounding excited and far younger than her thirty and some years.
"I'll be right back, Patrick," Peter assured him and Patrick looked up, having forgotten that Peter was even aware of his presence.
"Oh...okay," Patrick said, waving at Peter's back and then feeling like a fool.
He wandered into Peter's office, knowing that he was welcome. He stepped over to Peter's bookshelf, leaving as much distance between himself and the damn skull Peter kept in there as possible. Sometimes the skull chattered at him and Patrick didn't like that very much.
"Huh," Patrick mused, looking over some of the titles Peter had. "Angels and Demons by Dan Brown." Patrick chuckled. "Obviously no one told him what that was about. Or the fact that it was written by an idio-"
The skull chattered at him.
Patrick straightened up immediately, the movement causing his errant hair to look as if it was standing on end for a brief moment. "What. What? What do- Do you like Dan Brown?" At that, the skull seemed to chatter angrily. "Do you even know who Dan Brown is?! Oh god...d-don't chatter like that, you'll fall off your pillow and I'm not picking you up! You used to be inside someone's head! That's gross! I mean...you...you're not gross, it's just...oh god..."
Peter re-entered the room and he laid a hand on Patrick's shoulder, causing him to yelp and spin around. "Jesus!"
"Are you angering my skull?" Peter said, reaching forward to pat it gently. It chattered twice and fell contentedly silent.
"Peter," Patrick informed him, "you are really weird. Did you actually really Demons and Angels?"
"It was a gag gift for Christmas." Peter headed back to his desk and Patrick followed him. "I haven't read it yet-"
"Are you alright?" Patrick interrupted him. The man had just had to bring his wife downstairs, probably to a shrink, because she didn't know who she was.
Peter shook his head as he lowered himself into his chair. "Not especially, no. But this...Aly is always alright eventually. I took her to see Abby who usually talks her through things until she remembers them. Thank you for bringing her up here."
"No, it's no trouble," Patrick quickly assured him. "I'm really sorry you have to go through that."
Peter shrugged. "It's alright. She's my wife. I would do anything."
"I know the feeling," Patrick said quietly.
There was silence for a moment and then Peter said, "I'm sure you do. What was her name?"
Patrick hadn't really spoken about his wife or his daughters much, beyond explaining that he had had a family and he did not any more. But after just witnessing someone else's pain, Patrick knew he wasn't alone with his. "Her name was Julia and she was beautiful. My best friend. We had two girls, Alex and Daisy. Daisy wasn't her real name, but she insisted on being called that. She hated that we'd named her Virginia, but it was Julia's mother's name. I'm sorry, I...I don't have to talk about this."
Peter smiled gently at him, an expression Patrick took a lot of strength from. "Patrick, you can tell me anything you'd like."
"It was a car accident. They died in a car accident. All of them. I was playing in a pub across town, not my usual place, and Julia...I guess she decided they would all come meet me after the show. To surprise me. I didn't know because they never showed up. I was having a drink with my friend Paul when the police showed up. I had told her I would be back home late and not to wait up. She loved doing that though. Surprising me. It was almost a year ago now. And I still...I miss them. I lost myself for a little while. A long while. Eight months. I drank constantly. And then...strangely enough...the Templar found me."
"Despite their methods, they are good at motivating people to change," Peter said flatly. "I too lost months to the bottom of a glass. My best friend had been killed in front of me and I had been told it was my fault."
"Did the Templar bring you out of it too?"
"Actually no, it was a fellow university student who made me sleep with her in the campus library stacks, but...that's neither here nor there," Peter said, waving his hands around. "It was some years ago. The Templar motivated me to build this hospital though, as I've said."
"Well they're arseholes," Patrick hissed, "but I need to build a life. I'm only 32. I'm not done yet."
"No," Peter said with a smile. "I shouldn't think so."