Be Near Me: Prologue
Title: Be Near Me (0)
Pairing: None
Rating: R (language, frank discussion of sexuality)
Spoilers: Through 1-11: Fallout
Summary: Peter finds out a new method of saving the world from Mr. Bennet. Please read disclaimer.
PROLOGUE: The past catches up
All my dreams came true last night
All my hopes and fears
All my dreams came true once more in tears, in tears
...
What's your reputation? Ecstasy!
What's your destination? Next to me!
--ABC, "Be Near Me"
They sat facing each other in a nondescript office. Peter knew he was in New York - the air just felt different here than anyplace else in the world - but other than that, he had no clue, and no recollection of coming here or being brought here. He wondered if his memories had been erased, and he fought down paranoia, struggled to be in the moment, to recapture his inner spirit of mellow. But it was hard, looking at the man, feeling the unease that gripped him while Peter was in his presence. Maybe it was just the glasses. Peter hated that guy's glasses. "You know why I wanted to speak to you today," said the man in the glasses, who preferred to be addressed as Mr. Bennet, like a schoolteacher.
"No, I don't know… I'm not the mind-reader guy; let him tell you what you want to know." Peter shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor, regretting the words as quickly as he said them. So much for mellow. The attitude wasn't helping, and really, they were all trying to save the world, weren't they? The mind-reading guy's name was Matt, and he had a soul like everyone else. Peter looked up again with a frown. "I dunno. You're gonna tell me something that I have to do."
"That's right," was the reply.
"That I probably won't want to do," Peter said.
"Unfortunately, that might be the case. Somehow, though, I doubt it." Mr. Bennet picked up a thick file from the desk he stood against, and leafed through it. "It says here in your files… that you seem… comfortable with physical closeness." When Peter blinked and furrowed his brow, Bennet continued in a dry voice, "You have a history of … multiple … sexual encounters."
"Yeah?" said Peter with a little shake of his head. His expression didn't change, even though he felt that he was probably blushing. How the hell had they found that out? Had he been under surveillance, even then? What didn't they know? "How's that significant?"
Bennet sighed, his eyes scanning the file. "While you were attending nursing school, you were intimate with… twenty-two separate individuals. Seventeen women, and, uh…" He trailed off discreetly, his smile deepening subtly, hinting at a smirk.
"Five men," Peter finished for him, not averting his gaze, and giving the full smirk. They'd really done their homework; there was no point in him trying to bluff his way out of this one. He remembered every single name, every face, every O-face. Even in this messed-up situation, it cheered him up to remember them. "So? I don't have a problem showing physical closeness, no. It's nursing school; it's really stressful sometimes. Sometimes you just need to relax. Show somebody else that you know what they're going through." He didn't need to add, Have a few drinks, split a tab of E once finals were over, backrubs and footrubs turning erotic even when I didn't expect them to. Good times.
"Exactly," said Bennet, and his voice was so free of any level of judgment that Peter was startled. Didn't that little smile equal contempt? "That's exactly the crux of my request."
"So you're not just calling me a slut," Peter said uncertainly.
"Oh, you're a slut," Bennet confirmed, again with the same lack of judgment. "But oddly enough, I think that's part of your power. That's part of what makes you special. Essential to fulfilling our goals."
Peter blinked and shook his head again. Bennet said, "Your ability depends on proximity to other people with special abilities. Sexual contact with these other people provides a lasting change in your manifestation of their power."
"How do you know that?" Peter half started out of his seat. "Who did I sleep with who…" His voice trailed off to a whisper as he raced through his recollections. "…who had powers…"
"Do I need to say it?" asked Bennet gently.
"No," replied Peter, his breath taken away at the gigantic scope of the nameless organization. It had only been twice, when he was a kid… when they were both kids, really. What kids do; explore; explore with whoever's closest.
Oh, God. They knew about that. Peter was suddenly so grateful that Bennet didn't say it aloud that he would have done almost anything the man asked. "Okay," Peter said, his mouth suddenly dry. "So what do I have to do?"
"We have a plan," Bennet said. "A pattern of contacts that you must make. The others with whom you must engage, so as to gather their powers in the most advantageous way. It's our theory that if you follow this pattern, you will be able to retain their powers for a sufficient amount of time to complete the task. These could be long-lasting changes, Peter. There's a danger that you might become overwhelmed. But, we're gambling that you won't. You're a very grounded, very centered person, one who is very dedicated to your own personal cause. That cause is stronger than one that could ever be imposed on you. Fortunately, your cause aligns with ours."
Peter hated being told that he wasn't in charge of his own destiny, no matter what. His choices had always been his own. They still were, kind of. "Am I your prisoner?"
"I wouldn't call it that. But we won't let you leave."
"That kind of makes me your prisoner. What if I just …walked out of here?"
"And tried to save the world on your own? You can't dodge a bullet or heal from a gut shot. You can't anticipate where your enemy will strike next, and you can't tell him not to peel you like a banana. Not yet, anyway." Bennet's little smile was back. "I'm giving you the opportunity for that to be the case. Because if you walk out of here, it's not us you have to worry about. And you're the only one who can do this, Peter. You alone, out of every other person on the planet right now. Only you have the potential to do this."
"But it'll destroy me," Peter protested. "I can't -- I don’t think I can handle that much."
"It's our theory that absorbing powers this way will be much safer than otherwise. That's part of, uh, why we propose this. We don't want you dead, Peter. You're our only chance."
"So I'll become … all-powerful and invincible… if I fuck the right people?" Peter didn't smile, and didn't blink. After a few seconds, Bennet lost the staring contest, staring with interest down at the carpet, taking off his glasses and polishing them with a gleaming white handkerchief he produced out of nowhere.
"Essentially," said Bennet.
"But I'm in a relationship right now that means a lot to me, and just because I'm a slut doesn't mean that I don't want to be true to her," said Peter. "I'm in love. We're in love. I don't think she's gonna be okay with this."
"War is hell," said Bennet off-handedly. "Besides, you left her before, thinking you'd end up dead. Be realistic about her role in your life. This is important. This is the most important thing in the world. We have to stop this. Everything -- everything depends on it."
Peter sighed. "Sounds like you're gonna beg," he said.
"I will, if necessary. This isn't about me. This isn't about what I think or what I feel, or what I believe is right." Bennet paused for a moment, staring at Peter significantly, and Peter thought to himself, Yeah, he does think I'm a dirty gay slut. Fine; let him. "All we know," Bennet continued, "is that time is of the essence. This is your brief." He handed Peter a sheet of paper with a list of names printed on it; names of the people he knew, had met, knew were extraordinary like him. Unfortunately, one of the names made his stomach flip over in his guts, even though he knew that it had to be there. And some of the others… Bennet noticed Peter's look of dismay. "Something wrong?"
"Do I have to do that again?" Peter said in a strangled voice. "We already… did it."
Bennet smiled. "That was a long time ago, Peter. Wasn't it?"
"I can't believe it," said Peter, not listening. "I just… wow."
Bennet wasn't listening either, retreating into comforting technicalities. "Skin to skin contact may not be necessary, but orgasm for both of you is. This is a transfer of energy, not fluids. We all wish we could go back to the way it was, sometimes, when life was simpler. But those times are over, Peter. We're soldiers now. Time is of the essence," Bennet said again, insistently.
"I need one more night," Peter said, handing back the paper. Bennet didn't seem fazed that Peter didn't want to keep the page; he trusted and understood that Peter could never forget that list of names. "One more night with Simone. Is there that much time?"
Bennet tossed Peter's file back onto the table. "Take three nights," he said. "One with her. Two nights alone. And no masturbating; we need to keep your sex drive high." He walked purposefully toward the door, the conversation, as far as he was concerned, at an end.
"Don't I even get some Viagra?" Peter yelped after him, half-serious.
Bennet paused at the door, and looked back. "Come on, Peter," he said rakishly, "we all know you don't need it."
Peter came to when he heard the glass of water on his bedside table fall onto the ground and break. He blinked into the darkness for a moment, eyes focusing on the red digits of his alarm clock reading 9:17 p.m., and heaved a huge sigh.
For once, he had had a dream about something that had happened to him. And now he had only twenty minutes to get downtown on the subway to meet Simone, to explain to her, to have one last night of just the two of them together.
And yeah, he had an erection. They really did know everything.
...TO BE CONTINUED...
next chapter
Pairing: None
Rating: R (language, frank discussion of sexuality)
Spoilers: Through 1-11: Fallout
Summary: Peter finds out a new method of saving the world from Mr. Bennet. Please read disclaimer.
PROLOGUE: The past catches up
All my dreams came true last night
All my hopes and fears
All my dreams came true once more in tears, in tears
...
What's your reputation? Ecstasy!
What's your destination? Next to me!
--ABC, "Be Near Me"
They sat facing each other in a nondescript office. Peter knew he was in New York - the air just felt different here than anyplace else in the world - but other than that, he had no clue, and no recollection of coming here or being brought here. He wondered if his memories had been erased, and he fought down paranoia, struggled to be in the moment, to recapture his inner spirit of mellow. But it was hard, looking at the man, feeling the unease that gripped him while Peter was in his presence. Maybe it was just the glasses. Peter hated that guy's glasses. "You know why I wanted to speak to you today," said the man in the glasses, who preferred to be addressed as Mr. Bennet, like a schoolteacher.
"No, I don't know… I'm not the mind-reader guy; let him tell you what you want to know." Peter shook his head, his gaze dropping to the floor, regretting the words as quickly as he said them. So much for mellow. The attitude wasn't helping, and really, they were all trying to save the world, weren't they? The mind-reading guy's name was Matt, and he had a soul like everyone else. Peter looked up again with a frown. "I dunno. You're gonna tell me something that I have to do."
"That's right," was the reply.
"That I probably won't want to do," Peter said.
"Unfortunately, that might be the case. Somehow, though, I doubt it." Mr. Bennet picked up a thick file from the desk he stood against, and leafed through it. "It says here in your files… that you seem… comfortable with physical closeness." When Peter blinked and furrowed his brow, Bennet continued in a dry voice, "You have a history of … multiple … sexual encounters."
"Yeah?" said Peter with a little shake of his head. His expression didn't change, even though he felt that he was probably blushing. How the hell had they found that out? Had he been under surveillance, even then? What didn't they know? "How's that significant?"
Bennet sighed, his eyes scanning the file. "While you were attending nursing school, you were intimate with… twenty-two separate individuals. Seventeen women, and, uh…" He trailed off discreetly, his smile deepening subtly, hinting at a smirk.
"Five men," Peter finished for him, not averting his gaze, and giving the full smirk. They'd really done their homework; there was no point in him trying to bluff his way out of this one. He remembered every single name, every face, every O-face. Even in this messed-up situation, it cheered him up to remember them. "So? I don't have a problem showing physical closeness, no. It's nursing school; it's really stressful sometimes. Sometimes you just need to relax. Show somebody else that you know what they're going through." He didn't need to add, Have a few drinks, split a tab of E once finals were over, backrubs and footrubs turning erotic even when I didn't expect them to. Good times.
"Exactly," said Bennet, and his voice was so free of any level of judgment that Peter was startled. Didn't that little smile equal contempt? "That's exactly the crux of my request."
"So you're not just calling me a slut," Peter said uncertainly.
"Oh, you're a slut," Bennet confirmed, again with the same lack of judgment. "But oddly enough, I think that's part of your power. That's part of what makes you special. Essential to fulfilling our goals."
Peter blinked and shook his head again. Bennet said, "Your ability depends on proximity to other people with special abilities. Sexual contact with these other people provides a lasting change in your manifestation of their power."
"How do you know that?" Peter half started out of his seat. "Who did I sleep with who…" His voice trailed off to a whisper as he raced through his recollections. "…who had powers…"
"Do I need to say it?" asked Bennet gently.
"No," replied Peter, his breath taken away at the gigantic scope of the nameless organization. It had only been twice, when he was a kid… when they were both kids, really. What kids do; explore; explore with whoever's closest.
Oh, God. They knew about that. Peter was suddenly so grateful that Bennet didn't say it aloud that he would have done almost anything the man asked. "Okay," Peter said, his mouth suddenly dry. "So what do I have to do?"
"We have a plan," Bennet said. "A pattern of contacts that you must make. The others with whom you must engage, so as to gather their powers in the most advantageous way. It's our theory that if you follow this pattern, you will be able to retain their powers for a sufficient amount of time to complete the task. These could be long-lasting changes, Peter. There's a danger that you might become overwhelmed. But, we're gambling that you won't. You're a very grounded, very centered person, one who is very dedicated to your own personal cause. That cause is stronger than one that could ever be imposed on you. Fortunately, your cause aligns with ours."
Peter hated being told that he wasn't in charge of his own destiny, no matter what. His choices had always been his own. They still were, kind of. "Am I your prisoner?"
"I wouldn't call it that. But we won't let you leave."
"That kind of makes me your prisoner. What if I just …walked out of here?"
"And tried to save the world on your own? You can't dodge a bullet or heal from a gut shot. You can't anticipate where your enemy will strike next, and you can't tell him not to peel you like a banana. Not yet, anyway." Bennet's little smile was back. "I'm giving you the opportunity for that to be the case. Because if you walk out of here, it's not us you have to worry about. And you're the only one who can do this, Peter. You alone, out of every other person on the planet right now. Only you have the potential to do this."
"But it'll destroy me," Peter protested. "I can't -- I don’t think I can handle that much."
"It's our theory that absorbing powers this way will be much safer than otherwise. That's part of, uh, why we propose this. We don't want you dead, Peter. You're our only chance."
"So I'll become … all-powerful and invincible… if I fuck the right people?" Peter didn't smile, and didn't blink. After a few seconds, Bennet lost the staring contest, staring with interest down at the carpet, taking off his glasses and polishing them with a gleaming white handkerchief he produced out of nowhere.
"Essentially," said Bennet.
"But I'm in a relationship right now that means a lot to me, and just because I'm a slut doesn't mean that I don't want to be true to her," said Peter. "I'm in love. We're in love. I don't think she's gonna be okay with this."
"War is hell," said Bennet off-handedly. "Besides, you left her before, thinking you'd end up dead. Be realistic about her role in your life. This is important. This is the most important thing in the world. We have to stop this. Everything -- everything depends on it."
Peter sighed. "Sounds like you're gonna beg," he said.
"I will, if necessary. This isn't about me. This isn't about what I think or what I feel, or what I believe is right." Bennet paused for a moment, staring at Peter significantly, and Peter thought to himself, Yeah, he does think I'm a dirty gay slut. Fine; let him. "All we know," Bennet continued, "is that time is of the essence. This is your brief." He handed Peter a sheet of paper with a list of names printed on it; names of the people he knew, had met, knew were extraordinary like him. Unfortunately, one of the names made his stomach flip over in his guts, even though he knew that it had to be there. And some of the others… Bennet noticed Peter's look of dismay. "Something wrong?"
"Do I have to do that again?" Peter said in a strangled voice. "We already… did it."
Bennet smiled. "That was a long time ago, Peter. Wasn't it?"
"I can't believe it," said Peter, not listening. "I just… wow."
Bennet wasn't listening either, retreating into comforting technicalities. "Skin to skin contact may not be necessary, but orgasm for both of you is. This is a transfer of energy, not fluids. We all wish we could go back to the way it was, sometimes, when life was simpler. But those times are over, Peter. We're soldiers now. Time is of the essence," Bennet said again, insistently.
"I need one more night," Peter said, handing back the paper. Bennet didn't seem fazed that Peter didn't want to keep the page; he trusted and understood that Peter could never forget that list of names. "One more night with Simone. Is there that much time?"
Bennet tossed Peter's file back onto the table. "Take three nights," he said. "One with her. Two nights alone. And no masturbating; we need to keep your sex drive high." He walked purposefully toward the door, the conversation, as far as he was concerned, at an end.
"Don't I even get some Viagra?" Peter yelped after him, half-serious.
Bennet paused at the door, and looked back. "Come on, Peter," he said rakishly, "we all know you don't need it."
Peter came to when he heard the glass of water on his bedside table fall onto the ground and break. He blinked into the darkness for a moment, eyes focusing on the red digits of his alarm clock reading 9:17 p.m., and heaved a huge sigh.
For once, he had had a dream about something that had happened to him. And now he had only twenty minutes to get downtown on the subway to meet Simone, to explain to her, to have one last night of just the two of them together.
And yeah, he had an erection. They really did know everything.
...TO BE CONTINUED...
next chapter