therealpm | 5th October, 10 pm

*Peter is startled out of his usual preparations for sleep by the over enthusiastic ringing of his phone. He rummages around through the papers on his desk, eyes lighting up at the number.*

George! How are you? It's lovely to be able to speak to you again, after so long as a-

Oh really, DEFRA contacted you already? That's very quick for a government department, I must say. Well it's good the paperwork is all finalised I sup-

Yes, George, I know. I did already tell you, several weeks ago.

*Peter blinks in surprise*

Well... the inability to touch silver and a tendency to grow fur during the full moon was a bit of a hint.

Well what else could it possibly have been?

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout.

Look-

Don't be unkind, I'm still me.

I'm taking a potion for that, as you well know.

Well of course it's not risk free, but-

I see.

No, obviously you have to think of your family.

Right.

Fine.

George-

...

*The line goes dead. Peter replaces the phone on the desk and mechanically completes his preparations for bed. He won't give whoever's guarding him the satisfaction of having their suspicions confirmed. He won't.

Dropping onto the bed, he pulls the covers over his head and tries to cry quietly.*

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

bamfbercow.livejournal.com

*John comes downstairs with breakfast. Peter seemed in a better mood recently, sparring and snarking almost like old times.*

*As John arrives, Nigel appears shaken, but doesn't offer an explanation, instead choosing to rush off as soon as he sees John take over duty. Although John thinks his behaviour odd, he doesn't dwell on it too long; Nigel will be Nigel. He calls cheerily through to Peter in his cell.*

Good morning, Peter!

From:

therealpm.livejournal.com

*Peter's lying curled up on the bed, staring at the wall with red rimmed eyes. He doesn't respond to John's greeting and there is little external evidence to suggest that he has noticed it at all.*

From:

bamfbercow.livejournal.com

Peter? Peter are you still asleep under there?

*John lets himself into the cell and sets out Peter's breakfast.*

...Peter, come on; the toast will go cold if you don't eat it soon.

From:

therealpm.livejournal.com

*He shuts his eyes tightly. He really doesn't want to have to deal with this right now. Doesn't want to have to speak extra carefully, to control his voice so it doesn't break and alert everyone to how wrong everything is. Doesn't want to have to see the change in people's expression when they notice his red eyes. Doesn't want to have to bat away the polite enquiries; 'What's wrong?' 'Is there anything I can do?'

When the change comes it's instinctive, more of a ripple than the tearing pain when he's switched forms before. He wonders idly whether it's the potion, proximity to the full moon or the clear desire of both forms to switch, perhaps a combination of all three.

The clouded thoughts and inability to speak- so frustrating when forced by the full moon, are now a blessing. When it's over he curls up under the covers once more, pyjamas puddling round his new limbs.*

From:

bamfbercow.livejournal.com

Peter? Oh come on now, Peter...

*John senses the magic in the room swell and die.*

...What did you just do, Peter?

From:

therealpm.livejournal.com

*He pokes his nose above the blankets, confident that the relative immobility of a wolf's features will give nothing away, and glares at John.

'What does it look like?'*

From:

bamfbercow.livejournal.com

*John looks back at the wolf.*

Why in Merlin's name have you done that?! I thought you detested being in that form.

*John shakes his head*

Never mind, you still have to take the potion, even if you now won't want the toast or tea.

*John puts the potion in a more easy to reach place for Peter in his current state. He then waves the newspapers at him*

You're going to have quite a tough time with the crosswords when you're like that, you know.

From:

therealpm.livejournal.com

*'I really don't care. Just go away, John.'

Peter turns back to staring at the wall.*

From:

bamfbercow.livejournal.com

Peter?

*John rolls his eyes.*

What's got into you today?

From:

therealpm.livejournal.com

*He ignores John and continues to stare at the wall.*

From:

bamfbercow.livejournal.com

*Even John can tell something's not right with Peter, but he doesn't seem to want to talk about it. Instead of asking - if Peter doesn't want to talk, there's no way that John's going to be able to get him to do so - he sits down in the chair and flicks through to the crossword page.*

9 across, "Refusal for Cambridgeshire saint, her very own self" two-word, first of four letters, second of five.

From:

furiously-fiona.livejournal.com

*The Millarbells greet Lindsay and head over to Peter's cell.*

Oh, you're still fuzzy! John said you'd be human again by now. Although I have no idea why it surprises me at this point that he doesn't know what he's talking about.

Well, we just thought we'd stop by to give you the Conference highlights. Which I guess we still can. It will probably go a lot faster if you can't talk back.

*She grins*

From:

bigalcampbell.livejournal.com

*Alastair peers nervously in at Peter. Even if wolf form, he's obviously down in the dumps, but his sulking shape is still intimidating.*

Honestly, that man isn't fit to look after a guinea pig, never mind a werewolf.

What's eating you, Peter? Besides fleas, obviously?

From:

therealpm.livejournal.com

*Peter peers at the door and nearly groans. Unlike John, Ali and Fiona delight in knowing that they're not wanted and no amount of ignoring them is likely to make them go away. He considers using the speak and spell, but there's a slim chance he might actually survive the cure and be around to experience the endless mockery that will ensue if they catch him using a child's toy.

As Lindsay carefully unlocks the door and lets them in, he burrows further under the blankets and shifts back. It's not as easy this time. He's still worn out from the first shift (the lack of food hasn't helped) and neither form particularly wants to switch, but after a few painful minutes during which Alastair looks nauseous and Fiona merely curious, he shoves the blankets off his face and pulls on one of the shirts that he keeps by the bed (one little known fact about werewolves is their tendency to chache clothes everywhere, for obvious reasons). One polite cough to request a moment of privacy later, and he has boxers and trousers on too.*

Didn't sleep well, Alastair, that's all. How did Conference go?

From:

furiously-fiona.livejournal.com

Better than it has in years! Ed gave the best conference speech I've heard since your last one, you should have seen it- *Belatedly, she notices the television on the wall.* Oh, I see you made John install a TV. I should have known you wouldn't miss it even if you were trapped in a prison cell.

*She looks back at Peter's face. He's not wearing the expression of smug triumph she'd expect at this victory over his jailers. In fact, he's not wearing any expression at all.*

Peter, what's wrong? This isn't just about Ed slagging off New Labour in his speech, is it? If you lot didn't want people saying you were too cosy with vested interests you should have been less crap at regulating the banks. Anyway that was Ed Balls, not you.

From:

bigalcampbell.livejournal.com

A TV in a prison cell? What extraordinary luxury. I suppose it might make him ultimately easier to rehabilitate if he's kept in touch with the real world. Still, don't tell the Daily Mail.

Yeah, Peter, spill the beans. Or at least look like you're happy to see us, for god's sake.

From:

therealpm.livejournal.com

*Peter gives a half hearted shrug and considers his options. They're not going to be fooled if he tells them nothing's wrong, but he might be able to throw them off the scent a bit.*

The first night, the two people...

*He looks up at the two of them, twisting his fingers anxiously.*

...one of them's disabled from the neck down. I... I don't know about the other.

From:

furiously-fiona.livejournal.com

*Fiona sighs, and goes to wrap her arms around him. He seems thin, despite the food parcels.*

I'm sorry, Peter.

*That could have been Alastair. But Peter obviously needs them right now, so she carefully files that thought in the back of her mind to freak out about later.*

From:

bigalcampbell.livejournal.com

*When he hears what's happened, Alastair pulls away instinctively, feeling faintly nauseous. He watches Fiona offer Peter a hug, glad that she's the one to do it so he won't have to. He's not sure what to say, so he echoes Fiona's words flatly.*

I'm sorry.

*It's frustrating, not being able to help. At least before, they managed to bring Peter things, to make a bit of a difference. He can't make a difference to this.*

From:

therealpm.livejournal.com

*Peter accepts the hug gratefully, staring at the floor, then lets out a choked up half laugh, half sob.*

I'm not sure sending a card is appropriate, d'you think...?

Edited Date: 2012-10-08 05:17 pm (UTC)

From:

furiously-fiona.livejournal.com

I don't think they make "Sorry I tried to eat you while I was a werewolf" cards, no. Limited demand, you see.

Nor are they likely to be eager to hear from you at this point. Give it some time, Peter.

*She gently pushes him back to sit on the bed and sits down beside him, putting her arm around him again. Alastair has edged back against the wall, probably thinking about his own near miss. She can't blame him. Still, it's a bit odd to find Peter so shook up by the misfortunes of others, even when he's the cause. He's a man of many virtues but compassion is not usually among them.*

*Then again, he has been confined to a cell for the past month with little to think about beside the harm he's done. Perhaps prison works after all.*

Edited Date: 2012-10-08 05:25 pm (UTC)

From:

bigalcampbell.livejournal.com

*Alastair watches them sit down together and thinks about joining them - he wouldn't even have to touch Peter, just sit beside him and say maybe something nice, to help him relax. But his stomach is turning. There but for the grace of God...*

Well, there's not much that can be done now. Don't you have menial paperwork and things to take your mind off it?

*More than anything, Alastair wants his own mind taking off it. If only Peter would just say something bitchy and go back to normal. Alastair didn't have to come here, and now he's being made to feel bad about something done by Peter to a person he doesn't even know? Sod that.*

Go on, stop sulking. Dwelling on this won't make you feel better.

From:

therealpm.livejournal.com

*It feels like a punch to the gut. It's true, Peter muses, that ruining the lives of two people isn't the only thing he's upset about. Perhaps, he notes with a twinge of guilt, not the thing he's most upset about, either. But still.

He breathes deeply through his nose. Crying or screaming will get him no where. Instead he grits his teeth.*

I'm so terribly sorry for being upset at ruining the lives of two people and very nearly making it three! I'll try and be more cheery about leaving someone paralysed and almost doing the same, or worse, to you in future, shall I?

5th October, 10 pm

Navigation

Page Summary

Style Credit