Something New [Keara Aithne]

[Peter Parkman]

The computer looked slightly out of place in Peter’s room. He’d commandeered one of the treatment rooms on the second floor of the Asylum, and over time had made it his own. It was the same room that he’d been brought to after the Fae attack, except it looked completely different, now. Rather than just a bed and bare walls, there were bookshelves and warm colours. He’d changed the bright lightbulbs to dimmer ones. He’d laid rugs on the floor. The bed was no longer a single hospital bed but a King size, low set mahogany suite with matching bedside tables and dresser. Why so big, when it was just him sleeping in it? Because most of the time, it wasn’t just him sleeping in it. He was a very tall man who slept with five dogs; the bed being low-set so that the smaller dogs could easily jump up and onto it.

The bed was in the other room. The main room was Peter’s workspace, and though he usually worked from a laptop to keep the historical journal up and running, he had soon realised that his small laptop was not good enough for the new hobby that he had acquired. A hobby that he had thought long and hard about, and had finally settled upon because it did not require that he leave the Asylum. He could work on it from this very room. Except he’d had to shift things around a bit to get the computer to fit. A desktop computer with a large screen and a gently thrumming tower stashed down below. He’d made sure to purchase a mahogany desk that matched the rest of his furniture. It had to be the exact same colour. He’d have demanded that it come from the exact same crop of trees, too, but had been assured that that kind of thing was impossible to track. He’d finally had to give in and agree that this particular shade was good enough.

Although Keara had said she was working on scripts for Peter, he’d purchased some lesser scripts from the shop to get him started while he waited. Keara had said she needed source codes, so he figured he might do his part to try to find them for her.

After a few hours of fiddling with cords and making sure everything was set up just so, with the chair at the perfect height so that Peter could sit with a straight back and a perfect posture, he finally turned the computer on. It purred to life, brand new and barely making a sound. The screen was bright—another few minutes were spent fiddling with the colour and brightness adjustments—and the layout simple. Peter cracked his knuckles, and finally opened the programs that he needed, set up in different windows. He was only just beginning. Only just learning.

The dogs were scattered around the room behind him. They had all been fed and let out and taken for their walk. They became background atmosphere as Peter focused, sinking into the program and feeling a slight thrill at the thought of learning something new.

[Keara Aithne]

Peter had always been a quiet one but lately he seemed even more withdrawn. Enver had told Keara that Peter and Jersey had broken up and so she suspected that this was the reason for his change in demeanour. She had left him to his own devises however and had waited to see if he would come to her. Her childer, while precious to her, were all adults and so she tended not to interfere in their lives unless they requested it of her. Tonight, however, she was determined to force Peter to face the situation and her. She had noted that he wasn't going out much, if at all and so she had decided that getting him out of the asylum was probably the best place to start. Keara possibly wasn't one to speak in this, as neither her nor Enver spent much time outside of the family walls these days but they did venture out each and every night on their own business and they had one another to come home to. Peter seemed to be withdrawing into his own little world and this was what Keara wanted to try and change.

Stepping through a portal, she made her way to a rather secluded section of the city over in Coastside. She had no plan as to what to do with her childe once she had him there, other than talk, she just wanted to make sure that she had his undivided attention. She'd settled by the abandoned dock. Not on the dock, but it was nearby. She knew her son was a little edgy around water from the time she attempted to get him to walk on water but she didn't believe she was close enough to cause him any discomfort. It would have perhaps been easier on them both to summon him into the heart of the city but she'd considered this the best option as it would provide him with a distraction and there was a decent patch of wilderness nearby in which they could get lost if Peter felt stifled by the surroundings.

There wold be no warning for her son. No telepathic message to tell him of her plans. No email in which she explained that he needed to leave his home and that this was for the greater good. No. She simply thought of him and drew him to her. Thankfully, her son trusted her enough for this power to work. Had it not been enough she'd of had to consider taking his tome from him and teleporting him into the city so that she track him down and accost him. That plan however was a little convoluted and so was her last resort. It might have actually been simpler to go with plan C which would have been to drag him out of the home using brute force if necessary.

"Talk I think we should," she said when he appeared.

Keara was perfectly calm. In fact she was seated on the ground, her back against a brick wall, her legs crossed with her hands in her lap. She didn't even look up at Peter when he arrived, choosing instead to focus her attention on the hem of her typically short skirt.

[Peter Parkman]

The zone had been reached. Peter had settled neatly at the computer desk, with the foot rest and the mousepad with its gel lining so that his wrist was at the perfect angle. Not that he needed to use the mouse much, once he was in the system. His attention was solely focused upon the screen, and he wondered why he hadn’t got into this earlier. The code was like a long cold drink of fresh water. Getting it all to fit together to form keys, to get him past secure doors. It was like a whole new kingdom that he could sink down into and forget reality for a while.

He had no idea how long he sat there for. When his vision started to blur, at first he wanted to blame it on the length of time he’d gone without blinking. So he blinked. Once, twice… but with each blink the screen seemed to fade. Too late, he noticed the tug upon his whole body. Until, finally, he dispersed into a thousand million particles. Or, whatever it was that happened when he was forcefully taken from one place in order to land in another.

It scared Peter, more than anything else, when he was summoned. He had no idea what happened to his body in the interim. What happened to his psyche? To his brain? Could he ever lose anything on the way? He wasn’t ever sure whether he could even think or reason while mid-flight.

When he landed, it was on his knees. He gagged and gasped for breath; as if he wanted to scream in pain but the pain was gone. Like it was a phantom pain. He felt like he was going to throw up, but didn’t. Instead, his hands flew over his PJ-clad body, looking for some kind of missing limb. He stood and shook himself out. Everything seemed to be working properly. He reeled. Where the hell was he?!

And then he saw Keara. Well, he heard her before he saw her. Though, the words didn’t compute.

”Where am I?! What have you done?!” he turned around, as if he might be able to discover where he was on his own, and make his way home again. He didn’t have his tome on him. It was on the desk at home. He saw the water in the distance, could even smell it on the air. And he was on the wrong side of it.

”Noooo,” he all but wailed, pacing in his bare feet. Bare feet! In his pyjamas! Somewhere in the… near the docks? Had she brought him back to the place he was sired? Why?! He felt betrayed. He trusted Keara, and she of all people knew how he could get. His skin crawled and he wanted to climb right out of it. He just kept shaking his head and pacing, trying to find some kind of anchor.

[Keara Aithne]

"Come darkling," she said patting the floor next to her.

Looking up wasn't necessary yet as she could hear him pacing back and forth. She knew he'd be distressed but she really didn't see another way of doing this. A shock to the system was what he needed and he wasn't alone. She was there with him. She'd take care of him. He just needed to calm down and see it. Of course if the situation was reversed, she wasn't sure she'd of wanted to be ripped from her home and told to get over whatever it was she was going through. Though if she were in a similar situation, she'd likely be in the shadow realm and unreachable in any physical sense. It was a sad truth but it was one she'd accepted. What with everything they went through after his accidental siring, Keara knew for a fact that she would rather be in hell, than walk this world without her soul mate.

"Sit with me please."

She indicated to the space next to her and finally looked up at her son to take in his appearance. He wasn't dressed to be out in the city but then she didn't think many would notice, as she'd noted that fashion had people wearing stuff like this out on the streets. Not that she thought peter would ever leave his home in that state. Sympathetic eyes roamed over him as she looked to his features to see if his eyes were darker than usual, if he'd combed his hair, if he'd taken the time to clean himself up properly. Of course she knew everyone's habits differed. Hers had been quite different in the old world and had changed again since her return. There was a time when she would spend days on end in the catacombs and sewers before returning home to change her clothes. Now of course she showered almost daily but then showering was much more appealing when one had a companion to join them; or so Keara thought. It still seemed somewhat indulgent to her to cleanse one’s body on a daily basis but Enver's habits had become her own in some areas and he was definitely the hygienic sort.

"In Coastside we are. Thought I did, that this the best place was, for to talk. Away from home we are. And away from home you need to be. Like I do not for you so to see."

[Peter Parkman]

Peter was clean.

His hair was combed and his eyes weren’t as dark as they could be; they were frantic, of course. A little manic. If something went wrong in Peter’s life, routine was the one thing he clung to. It was his saving grace. Where he kept routine before, if there was something or someone in his life to distract him, they could do so quite easily. The routine could be changed or adjusted. If severely distracted, it could even be forgotten. If that person left or was taken away, he had to keep to his routine. In fact, it became more rigorous.

He woke up. He took the dogs out. They all came back inside, and he showered. He combed his hair—twenty strokes of the brush. He brushed his teeth. He dressed in clothes that had been laundered on a specific day and on a specific time, all ironed perfectly. No creases. Just these days, those clothes happened to all be pyjamas. They were more practical if one never left the house.

And now Keara had pulled him away from the house. Away from his routine. And she was asking him to sit in the grass. In the grass, when his clothes were clean. Not that hygiene mattered to a vampire, but if he got them dirty it meant he’d have to wash them sooner, or put on a different pair of pants, and everything would be out of synch. He did not sit, when Keara asked him to. But he did at least stand still.

”Why do I have to be away from home? You don’t like to see me like what? Why here? Why couldn’t you just come and knock at the door?” he asked, his arms crossed over his chest. Not in a belligerent way, but in a way that looked as if he were keeping himself from falling apart, the fingers splayed and digging into the sides of his chest.

”If it’s something secret or… or private we could have organised a meeting. For a… a specific time and a place,” he said. Granted, he’d probably have pushed for that time and that place to be inside the Asylum. But, again beside the point. He bit his tongue to keep from asking questions; to wait for Keara to answer the ones he’d already half-shouted.

[Keara Aithne]

Peter was being his usual difficult self. Not that he was all that difficult per se, it was more that he had his own form of logic that he followed and he seemed to stick rigidly to it. He was unhappy to be out in the city. To be with Keara. At least this was how the woman took it and so she got to her feet. She wasn't about to abandon him and tome home, but rather comfort him. She stood, lightly dusted off the back of her skirt and moved to stand before her son before pulling him into her arms and hugging him tightly.

"Appointments for business and acquaintances are. We family are. And needed I did for something to do." She lightly pressed her lips to his cheeks, having pushed herself up onto the tips of her toes and lightly pulled him down her by curling one hand lovingly around the nape of his neck. "Too long," she began, her hands moving to his shoulders to maintain their close proximity, "withdrawn you have been and worried for you I am. Tough love I believe the term is for what doing I am. Needed you did for your home to leave. Brought you here I have."

She didn't want to lecture him in anyway. A broken heart, which was she blamed his overly reclusive ways on, was not an easy thing to mend. She wasn't expecting miracles from what they did now, only that the first step might be taken. If Peter needed a guiding hand she was only too happy to be that for him. Her childer so rarely required her assistance that it was nice for Keara to feel useful for a change. Even if Peter hadn't exactly asked for her help in this. She hypothesized that time and probably the love of a new woman would be what it took to truly mend his heart but until those things came to pass, she would show him that he wasn't alone and hopefully that he didn't need to lock himself away from the world. Had the roles have been reversed, Peter would likely be bleeding on the floor before her, that or she would have been unresponsive mess, cowering against the brick wall as she babbled to herself. She didn't like to even think of the possibility, especially not as she knew that that path for her led her direct to the accursed realm that she still feared. Thankfully Peter was a gentle soul. His words were his weapons and so she allowed him the opportunity to attack her in his own way by falling silent.

[Peter Parkman]

Peter’s body shook. Not anything that Keara would be able to see, standing at a distance, but as soon as she wrapped her arms around him in the hug she’d be able to feel it. A small tremor that he could not stop, or shift, as if it thrummed from the core of his bones. As if he were cold. And maybe he was. But it didn’t affect him. As soon as Keara stepped back, his arms crossed over his chest and he held them there.

”Why?” Peter asked. He was being stubborn. He didn’t see anything wrong with how he was acting. He didn’t see how it harmed anyone; not even how it might harm himself.

”I still get blood every night. I’m clean and healthy. I’m trying to learn how to hack. What does it matter if I’m withdrawn? Why do I have to leave home?” he asked. He didn’t understand it, and he couldn’t put the pieces together in his head. He wasn’t sure why Keara worried so much when he was doing no harm to himself or to anyone else. Was something else needed of him? Was he letting someone down, unaware of it?

Peter might not call himself heartbroken. At a glance, he wouldn’t say that he was heartbroken, but Peter had never been a man ruled by emotions. He had them, of course, but he was ruled my logic. He was a man who avoided the implications of emotions and who, now, would not admit that they were the cause for his reclusiveness. He would let them circle outside of his focus, and would instead concentrate on other things. On numbers and code. On routine and cleanliness.

Where others would let their emotions reduce them to curled up bodies in corners, Peter wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not by choice, really, but by habit. Maybe he had suffered far too much emotional damage in the past. Had he ever really mourned Lily’s death properly? He was stunted. Maybe it would all snap and overflow one night. Maybe now, having been pushed. But not yet. He remained standing still with his arms over his chest, and that slight shiver vibrating through his skin.

[Keara Aithne]

"Because easy it is for into one’s self to withdraw. Want that for you I do not," she replied without hesitation.

He did of course have a point. If he was looking after himself then didn't he have every right to hide himself away? The fact that he was taking up a new hobby was a positive step and Keara couldn't deny that that in and of itself was perhaps evidence of the fact that he was already healing from his break up. Positivity wasn't something she could give him, so she was glad to see a spark of it come through his words.

His folded arms however gave off another message. One that was telling Keara to mind her own business and perhaps leave him alone. It was defensive. A barrier. But Keara would allow no such barrier to exist between her and her son. To remedy this, she would not pull his arms free and take a hold of his hands like she might do with her husband, but instead she reached out and placed both hands along his forearms. This gesture allowed for her to create the connection she sought, and yet allowed him to maintain his barrier.

"If in your position I was. Lost I would be. The loss of love, painful is. Know that I do. Lost many I have. Family that is. But one husband too. love in many forms does come and to lose it always painful is. Need I do for to know that you coping are." She made sure to look him in the eyes as she spoke. "Matter you do. To me. Wish I do not for you alone in this to feel, even if alone you are. While share I may not in this experience. My own have I do. And here I am if need of me you have."

There were men in the world that may have is interpreted those words, but Keara didn't mean that she would be there for him romantically. Not that peter was likely to take it that way. She was telling him that she would be there for him if he needed someone. It didn't matter to her if he wished to speak or not, she'd be just as happy to spend time with him in comfortable silence if that was what he needed. She just had to press that fact upon him.

[Peter Parkman]

Peter’s head snapped back as if Keara had slapped him. No one, so far, had voiced anything out loud about what it was he might have lost. There was no public grieving process for Peter. No Facebook that he would ever update with bitter status messages. The family forum, too, was no place to air his dirty laundry; it was not logical to share one’s losses with everyone else. What could they do about it? It would make him look out of control, and it would not be respectful to Jersey when their break had been amicable. There was no reason to bring her any more grief.

If someone were to peel back Peter’s skull, they’d see a man inside made of boxes. Every emotion, every event, was tucked away into its own neat little box and stacked according to importance. Some boxes had locks on them. Some were shoved so far into corners so as not to be seen; so as to try to be forgotten and ignored.

What had happened with Jersey was in one of those boxes. Not a locked one. Just a shadowed one. One that had been shoved so far to the side that it would not be acknowledged. On the surface, he understood. He would tell anyone who asked that he understood. There were things from her past that Jersey had to deal with and it was entirely logical that she would want to leave Peter in order to do so. He didn’t know how he could help her. He didn’t want to acknowledge that there was more to their relationship than logic, and that deep down, he didn’t like being alone. He didn’t like being different. Although Jersey had not pushed his boundaries and accepted his routines, she had brought him out of his shell, just that little bit. She had begun to teach him that there were other people in the world. And if he focused on them, he might forget about himself.

Not that he could explain it like that, in so many words. The one thing he did not want to admit, because it would throw his entire equilibrium out of balance, was that he missed Jersey. And he still did not want to admit it. It felt like Keara had shone a spotlight on that hidden box and was trying to crack the lid open. Peter wanted only to slam it shut.

”I’m not lost. I am now, because you’ve summoned me to a part of the city that I’m not familiar with. I know where the Asylum is and I have a routine. And it’s a good routine. And I don’t have any distractions, now,” he said. He was in complete denial, of course. Trying to make out that it was a blessing, and that nothing was wrong. That his discomfort had only to do with how Keara had summoned him unexpectedly rather than with the emotions that he refused to acknowledge. But the cracks were showing, whether he wanted them to or now.

[Keara Aithne]

"Silly boy," she said with a smile, "lost as to your location, with me, you can never be. Know I do this city well. Worry for the environment in which find yourself you do, you never should."

Her hands rubbed along his arms. One hand had briefly disconnected as she'd spoken so that she could lightly brush the backs of her fingers across his cheek before returning to run across his arms once more. She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to pull him against her, wrap her arms around him and show him that he would never be alone. But she didn't. Not yet. He didn't seem to understand her concern and she needed to try and get through to him a little before she offered the physical comfort she thought he might need. Affection from her, while freely given to but a few, was still a little awkward for her at times.

"Distractions, Peter, important can be. If too focused we are. Miss things we do. Miss life we do. More to life than routine there is. Balance there must always be and control you cannot always have. With Enver now I would not be, if to my routine so fast then I held. Followed him I did, for answers to get. For conversation to seek. Had I that not done. Had I my routine followed. A different woman before you now would stand. Perhaps literally too. As met you I would not have. Your life too different might be."

She couldn't say that he might not think that, that was a good thing. Not everyone enjoyed the gift they were given. Not everyone was born to it as Keara was. Few thrived, while the many faded away. At least in this time. She didn't want to consider how different and cold she would still be. How she would be forced to keep contact with the world around her, muttering to no-one but herself. Her childer gave her the tools to live and a reason to remain but it was Enver that had restored her to life. For as long as she lived, she knew she'd never be able to repay him for that. This is what she wanted to give to Peter. While she knew she couldn't be his life, she knew she could help him get through his darker hours, so that he might find his light.