Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Peter wakes up on a ship, which is confusing, because the last thing he remembers is that he died at the hands of the archivist by refusing to answer his question about Elias, about his plan. He died because of his husband and Peter’s own hubris. He was so sure he could win, he was so mad about Elias…doing whatever is it that he did to Martin, but then that's not right, Martin chose to betray him.

He blinks, staring at the cloudy sky. He is in a ship, but he died, so? How is he here? Peter slowly rolls to his side and with an aching…everything he gets up. That's when he realizes that something is terribly wrong besides the fact that he should be dead.

Getting up on his elbows he sees he is in a rowboat, however that is not the main issue. No,the thing that freaks him out the most is the size of his limbs, short skinny and honestly pathetic looking. He moves to look over the edge of the ship, making it sway in a dangerous way, before he stares at his face reflected on the water. 

A child 's face. Peter touches his cheeks, soft and baby-like, he can't be more than ten or twelve, Peter was always tiny and frail looking before puberty hit him like a truck and he got the more appropriate family body shape.

Now he is small, his eyes have purple rings under them and he is so pale you could almost see his own veins. His freckles popping way too much.

“What the-” Even his clothes now that he inspected it, are different, instead of his blue coat, he was wearing the yellow raincoat and boots he used to put on as a child, he even has the blue sweater and light brown shorts he wore all the time back in Mooreland. His face looks terrified and his lips quiver, in what he realizes in horror, in an attempt to cry. He feels utterly stupid! He hasn't cried in so long. Why would he cry now? Yes he is confused but this doesn't- this cant-

But the tears dont stop and he lets a loud sob in the middle of nowhere. He instantly covers his mouth, trying to shut up, Peter has never been a loud crier, something he had to learn to do. But it just feels like too much, he was doing alright, he was going to win his bet and get Elias killed, but then Martin betrayed him. Then the archivist outsmarted Peter and to rub salt into the wound, Peter himself decided to refuse his answer, effectively dooming himself, all because out of spite and also some….sort of loyalty towards Elias nudged him in that direction.

Peter curls up on the floor of the wooden ship and cries for a long while.

Eventually he has to put himself together, enough to assess his situation. There is a single box under one of the seats, there are rows sitting perfectly still on the side of the ship too. Peter inspects the box first, inside there is a radio, a small thing really. He frowns and presses to turn it on, there is…no music, he tries to change the channel, but there is just static. 

He sighs and places it down back in the box. The sound of the sea and the wind was the only noise he could hear at the moment. 

Peter checks the water once more, there are…no waves, which is kind of unnatural on its own way, he feels uneasy,he is sure its the sea the smell of salt is undeniable. and he has been in trips on the ocean for most of his life so he knows, but…with how still everything is he could believe if he was in a lake somewhere.

The fact that there is fog doesn't help him at all to see anything in the far off distance, like if there is an edge or land. Anything really.

He can only see so further away. The only other things he finds besides the radio in the box are a lantern and a blanket. He stares at it for a moment but settles it down once more. There is no food or water,  Peter doesn't feel any thirst or hunger, which points to his theory of being dead.

Or…maybe Elias won, maybe this is the ritual and the lonely tried to bring him back but didn't have enough time to turn him into an adult. However if that was the case Peter just doesn't feel seen. In fact he feels alone.

In a way he doesn't hate it, its almost like being back on the Tundra. He tries to relish on it, he is alone, like he always wanted, but its not quite…right. Peter dreamed of his ritual, of an apartment building of seeing others but knowing they were unattainable. Yet here…there is none of that. No neon lights of the city, no people stuck in their own little worlds. Just him on the ship with not even a crew to torment from a quiet corner.

There is something wrong with this.

He touches his chest and…somehow, he didn't notice but on his neck he has the necklace, the one with his wedding rings. He pulls them up to see them. Two of them.

For their first marriage, the one where they merely signed a post-it note since it wasn't legal to marry, and the second one when they could finally properly tie the knot so to speak. 

One silver, the other gold. Elias having a mirror match. 

Thinking of Elias makes his stomach churn, he feels a mix between anger, resentment and….his face burns. He can't help it, he feels embarrassed by it, he…thinks of him and he feels all stupidly warm. He hates him, hates how weak he makes him feel, how…soft. Elias ruined him, he was the one who caused this, who made him fall in every way possible and who like a spider kept beckoning him closer and closer till he was trapped in his web. Peter a stupid and willing participant.

No sound, no nothing, when he speaks he feels like there is a crushing weight around him. “I hate you” There is no one there to listen to him. 

He rows. Tries to at least, but his arms are short and weak and if he had his normal body this would be so much easier, so much faster, but as it is, his coordination is shit, his eyesight poor as it has always been doesnt help anything. His hands are too soft and the rowing is making him hurt and ache all over. It takes him a long while to get a semi decent pace, albeit he ends up in circles a few times.

Once he knows he is going on a straight line more or less, he attempts to continue, hoping that perhaps he can reach land eventually. He has to, right? Peter rows and rows, and rows until his hands fill with blisters, and he can no longer hold the rows because his arms shake so badly he thinks he won't be able to hold anything ever again. He has a moment to pull them back into the ship with a titanic effort to ensure he doesn't lose them. If he does he is stuck.

Once he secures the rows he flops into the bottom of the ship. The fog and clouds at the very least ensured he couldn't get sunburnt. Still the weather was chilly and he felt sweaty. Tired he lays there till his eyes are too tired to stay open.

When he wakes its to pitch blackness. Peter for a moment stills in a moment of childish fear, his eyes not being able to find anything in the dark, no stars, to moon, nothing. Its almost as if he was blind, feeling his heart….beat faster on his chest, he scrambles to get to the box, to the lantern. The hair on the back of his neck rises and he feels goosebumps. The quiet is deafening, but for a single moment, he swore he heard something splash in the water.

Peter’s body seizes and he stays stock still. There is no more noise. His fingers touch the box. Water flickers on his cheek. 

He doesn't look to the side, he doesnt yell, he doesn't even move. He stays perfectly still, like a deer caught in the headlights. He should know better, he should! But he doesn't, he is afraid and his hands are clammy and for a moment his mind tries to think or work itself out because all he can think in his childish panic is that he wants one of his sisters.

Peter feels the wood of the ship groan as if something was grabbing the side with a painful grip. He touches the box and opens it, he grabs the lanterns and with shaky fingers presses the switch on. There is for a single second a shadow on the corner of his eye but then its gone.

He turns and there is nothing. 

His limbs still feel loose, his fingers not being able to properly close. He sets the lanter in the middle of the boat and he peeks from the edge of it to see into the water. Right now it looks like ink. He touches his face and pulls away, a smear of…inky is on his palm. On the…side he notices another splotch, almost…hand like, but not quite.

Peter breath hitches. Is it the dark? Is he being targeted now? 

He slinks down and stares at the light. A single beacon in the dark, the cold was getting worse so he pulled the blanket around him. From time to time he hears noises in the water. Swallowing hard he focuses on the light, he covers his head with the blanket. Peter should know better than to think something like this could protect him, but right now being stuck in a child’s body caused him to revert to a more childish state he muses. It would explain why he couldn't stop crying or why he was feeling so over the place.

Peter didn't like to think of his childhood much, it wasn't interesting, it was a moment in time only. Nothing more to it, the only good thing to come out of it was the fact that he found Forsaken, that he was in a way special. However that didn't seem to do much now.

Thinking back on it, part of him felt…angry and scared. He had been scared too, he shuffled and practically hid in the blanket. He hates to think of himself as a victim, he wasn't, he chose this, he enjoyed his job, what he did. But part of him has to admit that his childhood wasn't normal by any normal means, that there were moments where he was truly afraid. 

“I wanna go home” No noise. Home.

What was even home anymore? Mooreland? The Tundra? 

…The flat he shared with Elias.

A place he felt happy to go back to, that he could miss, where he would see his cats, where even if Elias managed to spoil his mood, Peter could even…miss him. Despite his complicated feelings for him, despite knowing he was a bastard. 

He looks around, the fog was even thicker, he could not see the water anymore. He stays like that huddled on the floor for a long while. The ship is still in the unnatural sea. Slowly once his arms feel a little bit better he decides to row again. He thinks he won't be able to sleep knowing…there is something out there. So maybe he can sleep during the day. Peter has to struggle once more, to set the rows in the water, to move them at the right speed. He hurts, but he must continue if he wants to maybe get out of here.

Nothing changes much as the days go by, his arms get used to the pain just a little bit, he still gets terrible cramps and his sleep hours are terrible, the floor of the ship is not very comfortable. He feels no hunger or thirst, but he can still get tired and that's a problem. The nights are the worst, Peter just feels uneasy all around, the fog gets seemingly worse by the time the lights go out and he is sure there is something there.

There hasn't been any other…attempts, at least as long as he keeps the light on. He can still hear something occasionally move in the dark but the small beacon he has lets him feel a bit of safety, the same as the blanket, even if logically despite his childish beliefs, he knows that none of that is actually doing anything. Peter is likely in as much danger as he was the first day, whatever it is out there is just…biding his time.

It terrifies him to think about being put in this position. Some karmic retribution maybe, perhaps this is just hell. Maybe this is a reverse of what he put through the people he sacrificed, in some sort of fucked up mirror. Peter leaving them alone in the Tundra versus Peter being stuck in a row boat, similar enough to the ones he used to wait with the crew and Tadeas as someone was taken.

Elias would find amusement in that.

The radio he tries every day, but…so far nothing, no noise beyond a low humming or buzzing. He keeps it on sometimes, to hear something besides the sea, he talks to himself quite a bit. He has nothing better to do and he knows there is something in the water, and they know he is there, so speaking to himself makes no difference regarding his own safety.

So he does, he talks about nothing important really, just…anything to keep his mind occupied. He is used to silences, to being on his own, but even in the Tundra he had Tadeas, he could follow the crew invisible to them, hell he could call Elias when he felt like it, or well more like the beholder called him.

Right now he is stuck.

“Are you going to kill me? It's been….god i don't know like two weeks?” There is no reply, Peter pushes with all his might the rows, he misses with the right one and curses as it pulls at his arm and he has to try to move them again. His eyes fill with bitter tears. He is so tired.

“I want to reach land, i hate this place, all i want is to touch ground and never row in my life ever again” God if he does reach….whatever is there to reach, he plans to burn the rows and ship to the ground. “I miss the Tundra and my cats! I hate this place!! Even Mooreland was better than this!”

The sound of splashing makes him shut up, he swallows down hard and keeps trying. He has to make it out of here, has to. Wherever this is. Or maybe this is truly his punishment and there is no end, forever stuck in dangerous waters trying to row into safety in an endless ocean. Simon would have appreciated that torture.

All Peter has is time as he wanders across the water. Time and his own thoughts. The anger he felt towards Elias melted a bit as time went on, he tricked him, he lied, he must have! He must, he must!!! Peter didn't lose. He cant have lost! He must have done something to Martin, told him something, because Martin-

Martin hated him, Martin outwitted Peter simply because he cared so much about the stupid archivist who barely knew him. It makes him mad, it does, it does!! Peter shakes in outrage, Martin was his to play with! He was doing an excellent job as a future avatar and yet the archivist ruined everything.

Peter wants to kick something wants to yell.

“Its not fair, Its not fair!!!! I didn't lose, I didn't!” Jonathan Simms didn't even know Martin that much! Martin didn't even know Jon either! They weren't even like Elias and me! Elias knew me even if I didn't want him to! He did, he is an asshole but he- he-!” Peter feels odd, he is…is he having a tantrum?

He feels childish impotence and bitterness. He feels cheated, he worked so hard for his ritual, for the bet, with Martin! Peter genuinely liked him and yet all of it slipped through his fingers because of the archivist.

First Gertrdue then Jonathan. She ruined his work, he killed him, he stole martin, Elias paid him all the attention! Peter was always robbed of what was rightfully his! Elias lured him into a sense of false security didn't he? He did! All those bets, he probably planned this all along! Maybe he even wanted Peter dead, maybe he got bored of him,maybe he wanted that stupid archivist-

And Peter’s eyes filled with tears and he went from angry to jealous and miserable so fast he felt whiplash. Elias is his husband, his partner! But he did this to him, but he is also his.

Peter’s mind is struck by opposite ideas, he is instantly jealous while also being pissed off.

He kicks his legs and pushes the rows in anger, he calls everything stupid and dumb and he can't remember ever being this mad, or feeling so…much. Actually Its like his chest was being torn open, like everything was an open wound, Peter actually…felt everything keenly and sharply like his eyes just went into focus all of a sudden. 

The ship shakes with his violent movements. Peter should know better, should be able to control himself more, but in reality after a certain point, Forsaken took the responsibility to muffle his most…aggressive feelings, not even counting on Peter himself trying to bury them.

A mix between his homelife and patron set him off to have a polite if affable personality, yes he could be petty and get mad, but that burnt out quickly. He wasn't one for confrontations, the archivist and Elias having tipped him off significantly by accident unbalanced him. 

“I hate them!” He practically spits out the words in his frustration, the wind picks up around him. “Why? Why couldn't I win! Why wasn't I enough?!” Nothing. 

The dark sea remains like that, like ink, the fog a white cloud surrounding Peter, a fake sense of familiarity. Darkness and only a beacon of light to keep him relatively safe.

The wind continues to pick up and he looks around, there is nothing to see, the freezing chill makes his teeth chatter. Peter’s arms hurt so he pulls the rows back into the ship and just lays on the ground once more, using the blanket as a cocoon around him. He sniffles and rubs his face, he is better than this, he is! He is not an actual child, he is not this… this pathetic.

He was pathetic wasn't he? He fell in love, in his own stupid way and that led him down a path that would wind him up here. Dead and in hell for all the people that he killed. In a logical way this is well deserved, he is a monster, on the other he is now twelve and he is terrified and scared and all he wants is something familiar, he just wants home.

Whatever that means.

Peter doesn't sleep, he is scared something might get him in his dreams, so all he does is move a bit to grab the radio and even if he knows there is nothing there, he turns it on, the background noise better than nothing. Better than to hear the wind pick up and to listen to the water splash around him.

Peter curls up, holding onto it as the white noise continues.

Its tough to only have yourself for company, oh he always enjoyed it, has spent a lot of time alone truly, but at the end of the day, he always had the knowledge that there were still people around, Peter liked having the illusion of being alone. The hearing  others around but never being able to find them, the moving in the lonely and seeing the pale shades that people represented.

Sitting on a balcony with a cold little man on his side watching the city and all the people move around like ants, doing their own thing, unaware of each other and how alone they were.

Even in the Tundra he had to talk to Tadeas from time to time.

Its been weeks like this now, only himself, the radio and the light, and whatever monster there is during the night. Peter stares at the water during the day, its water, its clearly water yet at night it turns into ink. No, its not the dark tricking him, he touched it and saw his hand get dirty as if he dipped his fingers on an ink well. Strangely enough when in the morning he tried to wash it off in the proper sea water it…didn't fade.

So now his right hand was blackened up to his knuckles.

He stares at it a lot.

One night, after what he thinks is…a month, Peter feels a moment of pure desperation, is he going to row forever? Is this it? Forever stuck on a ship alone in the body of his child self with his emotional range? For the first time, instead of letting the lantern in the middle of the ship, he lifts it and uses it to see into the water. After that first day he had been too terrified to look into the water directly. His hand dipping aside.

There is nothing there that he sees at first of course. For a moment all there is is a pool of blackness, one that can't even reflect the light coming out of his lantern. Its…almost like a black hole, sucking in the light. Peter stares at it, not even his reflection can be seen. But then…oh, then. He sees it, white spots, staring at him.

Across what little he can see in the inky water due to the fog, he sees glowing white orbs. For a moment of course he doesnt recognize what it is. Then he realizes as one slowly starts to lift off from the water that they are…eyes.

Many, many eyes.

A black splotch, shapeless except for the white of its eyes emerges slightly from the ink, more start to move around the boat, Peter fucked up, he did, fuck- He drops back onto the floor of the ship as it began to shake, whatever the creatures are, seem to be shaking it, inky limbs grab onto the ship and he cant help but yell what do you want from me.

“What is it?!” There is no reply. Only one of the creatures begins to rise and rise…and become taller and bigger and it towered over him and his boat. His hand could literally just pick him up. Peter breath quickens and maybe this is it, he was stupid enough to try and see. To understand, he should have stayed in his ignorance, his fake sense of security. 

The dark shadow bends forwards slightly, ink falls from its face on the boat, on Peter himself.

He holds the light like a lifeline stupidly enough, if it was a dark creature maybe he can scare it away? “Please i dont know whats going on i just-i just want to go home” Then after a beat of silence where he felt nothing short of his heart escaping his chest, he hears them talk.

He says them because the voice sounded like many people speaking at the same time. Overlaying.

“So did we” His blood freezes and his hands feel clammy. He sees the creature lift his hand in a fist and raise it up, his intention clear. Peter should beg for his life, but his throat is constricted and all he can do is become stiff as a board. All he can do is lay there in utter terror and panic as the creature threatens to kill him.

Peter begins to cry, not the quiet thing he is used to, he just starts sobbing, closing his eyes highly as he sees the hand of the monster go down quickly. The only thing he manages to say before that is that he is scared. Yet…he adds one more thing.

“Im sorry mom, i'm so sorry-” His mind could only think of his faceless mother in her mourning clothes pushing him aside and getting rid of the few things that got him joy. He can only think of knowing that if he did not behave as he was meant to, he would be sent away like his siblings. Not knowing if they were with someone else or if they just got killed. Even if he tried to not be close to them, he didn't actually want them dead. He wanted to believe they were sent to live with some other relatives, someone who could care for them.

Peter was afraid of her, out of everyone in the house it was his mother he was most terrified of. 

Peter shakes and expects death once more, but…nothing happens. He opens his eyes, the creature starts to melt down into the water. He stays there crying still, for a long, long…while.

When he is sure he is not going to die, he looks to the water again. Limbs thrash over and over again, the boat shakes and he is too scared to move, some of them reach to it, others pull them away while more of them try to grab the ship. Peter doesn't know what to do. He has to wait till its daytime, he has to, but as time goes on the limbs get more rowdy, more violent, hitting and slapping the ship making it sway, if they keep up he will fall off. So with terror in his veins he picks up a row and hits them. Some grab onto it and he has to struggle to get it out. 

“Leave me alone, please, i just want to go” No reply, the monster doesn't appear, the blackness and the eyes in the water all stare at him. He swallows and with effort he tries to row, this time with both. Its even harder with the hands trying to keep him there, but they can't seem to fully grasp the rows, not enough to steal them as long as he uses all his might to continue.

“I hate you, i hate you” He rows and hurts and can only sniffle as he continues, till eventually…the hands disappear and the water calms down. Peter continues until morning comes and even then he keeps going, even if his arms are so stiff he can barely move them.

His throat is clogged and he feels sweaty. Even so he rows with what little energy he has left.

Surprisingly, something does change.

At night, the water is not inky black anymore, rather it seems to glow in a green and cyan bioluminescent look. His arms can't move so he can only stare at it during the night, the fog for the first time is less thick so he can see ahead of himself more. Peter sits and stares, not daring to get closer to the water or to turn off the lantern despite the natural glow of the water illuminating things now. He just…watches.

Like that, he notices…something moving in the water. The light lets him actually realize it was a floating glass bottle. Peter blinks and sees it pass him by, slowly he catches sight of more and more of them. All innocently moving across the water in his opposite direction. 

One of them moves so close to the ship that even with his hands completely stiff as they are he manages, clumsily may he add, to grab it. To do that, due to the state of his arms, he accidentally dips his hand into the water again, albeit this time with his left hand.

Once more like with his right and blackened one his skin gets sort of dyed in a green blue gradient, this time up to his wrist since the bottle slipped and he had to shove his hand into the water to catch it.

Peter holds the bottle and sees inside it, there is a piece of paper. A…message in a bottle. A very childish part of him, the one that liked to pirate legends as Simon told him, picked it up. He unscrewed the cork and managed to pull it off. He unscrolls it and sees its a letter. There are no names on it, but it is a letter.

-

I miss you, I can't help but think of you every time I go to the park, it was our place remember? That's where you proposed to me. I cant believe its been so long, why did it have to be you? We were making a life together, but then the stupid accident-!

I don't know what to do anymore, I kept the ring you gave me, I know you would want me to move on, but the truth is I don't want to, I just feel so alone and hopeless.

I am going to travel soon, maybe it will help me clear my head.

We always wanted to travel together.

I love you.

Always and forever.

Peter stares at it, he can get the gist of it. When another bottle comes by he picks it up, the story is all the same. Someone grieving for a person who is gone.

He looks around. There must be thousands of letters floating in the water.

Peter hesitates, but he puts the papers back in place before putting them in the water once more. What good would it do for him to keep them? Elias probably would, he would collect them and hoard them like a dragon, would wonder about the people behind the letters, would ask Peter his opinion and Peter just to annoy him would make up silly and outrageous stories to fill in the blanks.

They would fight and banter and it would end with Elias grumbling while reading in bed, all while Peter puts his head on his lap and tries to sleep. Elias would eventually let a hand drop on his head and gently rub it there, petting him softly as Peter fell asleep in a moment of peace.

He stupidly enough lifts his hand and hesitantly tries to emulate the motion. Petting himself. His eyes get teary, for all that Elias ruined his life they had beautiful moments didn't they? The only person who knew him.

Elias and Simon were the only two people who actively knew him.

Mikaele and Tadeas were the closest thing to friends he had considering his allegiances, while Elias was his partner and Simon something akin to family. One better than his own, he was after all the only grown up as he grew up who paid him any mind, who actually tried to give him advice and stories and didn't mind him being quiet. He just filled the silence for Peter.

He stays there watching the bottles slowly drift by during the night. Peter puts on the radio once more as he does. It still has nothing but white noise, its alright its better than nothing.

He rests his arms for an entire day before going back to rowing. 

The nights are more peaceful now, he still tries to sleep during the day and advance during the night, still unsure about the dangers of the dark, but as time goes on all he does is find more bottles. Sometimes he picks them up to read. He is slow, his eyesight as shitty as always, but there is no rush and he can take his time to decipher the handwriting.

Most of them are about missing someone, others are about someone being glad that the person they wrote about was dead. They felt relief about them being out of their lives or they felt angry that they would never get back at them or to tell them how they messed up their lives.

It ranged from normal to horrible, the things that they wrote.

Peter had nothing better to do than read. One night he actually ponders something.

“I suppose there is no letter for me is there? Who would miss me or even know that I was gone?” Simon would know but the old man lives by his own rules of everyone being meaningless in the end. His family perhaps finds out and makes a funeral, but no one would actively mourn him. His siblings won't even know that he is gone. Tadeas…won't mourn him per se and Elias…

Well, why would Elias even care?

Peter is forgotten as he always wanted, maybe he didn't die alone, but he sure as hell is forsaken. Instead of the…thrill he expected, all he feels is uneasy. Is this it? All he amounted?

Nothing?

Yes its better if he doesn't draw others' eye, but at the same time, all his life just…slipped by. His ship will be given to someone else, his ritual a joke to his family and the avatar community, he died a senseless death for a man who doesn't care and who will likely destroy the world, or maybe he already did.

Peter did nothing with his life. He was proud of the small bubble he made for himself, the corner of the world he occupied but now…now it's easy to see that all of it was for nothing in the grand scheme of things.

He is just now one person stuck in an endless sea, forced to go through some sort of punishment to pay for what he did. Maybe that's the point, maybe nothing in his life was ever meant to mean anything.

“Great, I'm getting existential now, that's just peachy, I'm sure the vast would love to take a stab at me now. Simon would find it amusing to no end” Maybe he even feeds from Peter, even so… “I wish Simon was here at least” He hugs his legs. Fine he doesn't want him to die to get here, but Peter actually would like his company. He can't admit it, can't admit to himself that he feels….lonely.

Not in the way he always enjoyed, but this different, this is just painful, its like he has a hole in his chest and instead of having Forsaken there filling the void, he just feels it. “I hate this, why does it hurt? I don't remember ever hurting” He grasps his sweater, he took off the yellow raincoat, he wasn't that cold. He feels the rings against his chest as he does.

“It didn't hurt, I liked being alone, even as a child I was always trying to be alone, so why is it painful now?” He hates picking on his feelings, its…not good. He would rather ignore them, but with nothing to entertain himself, nothing to numb himself into forgetting he is a person for days at a time, all he has left is time to think.

Peter's leg bounces and he grabs his head. “Why do I have to think about this now? Why am I here?” Punishment he supposes its the only thing that makes sense. He bites his lips painfully till he feels it bleed. The taste of copper is familiar in his mouth. A moment to think of Elias, of kisses and touches and more. His cheeks flush and he pulls at his hair. He feels funny and his hands get sweaty, there is a mix between missing it and feeling gross. Peter is already awkward with physical contact, as sheltered as he was, the idea of kissing at twelve felt disgusting.

Still it's a fond memory. A good one even if Elias…

Well, Peter is furious at him now. He hopes that when he goes, he goes down in pain for everything that happened.

The water glows, the bottles continue Peter yells into the ether and receives no answer so to speak. All there is is himself and the sea.

It dawns on him that he has no home its a few days later that he gets that realization.

The flat is gone, Mooreland once he left was never truly…home, not beyond the charades they had to play for funerals and weddings. The Tundra could be home, but here? That doesnt exist anymore. Nothing does.

Just this stupid bloody rowboat.

Peter has nothing to return to, and no one either. The invasive thought continues as he is forced to row through the sea with all the bottles surrounding him. Messages of people who love, who hate, who fear….an archive of unnamed memories. 

Elias would have appreciated it, then again the bastard was too afraid of his own demise to ever end up here. They would have driven each other mad if they were together in the afterlife, hah, Elias would probably have to see all his friends, the ones he contributed to their deaths, that would be interesting and Peter-

Well.

Here he is. Trapped.

He misses the cats, if there is one thing he at the very least feels sorry for is for leaving the cats. Hell on earth was about to commence and he had no idea what would happen to them, Elias sure as hell wouldn't have time to care for the small felines.

“I miss Captain and Socks and…even Duchess despite always trying to scratch me and being mean” Sometimes…as days go by and he feels more…settled into this stupid body, he aches to hold something. Anything really. Sometimes he simply grabs the radio as if it was a plush toy, others he takes off his raincoat and does the same despite it not being soft or comforting to hold.

“I would love to hold Captain, to feel him purr against me again, or even let Empress steal my socks all over again, i would live my whole life without having a single matching pair of socks ever again if I could” Peter plays with the radio changing the stations again.

He sighs.

“....I like animals far more than humans, at least they can't perceive you, not the way humans do, they know you are there of course and they can give you affection but they don't…demand it the same way. They are simple creatures with simple desires. No fluff about feelings or mistakes or anything. Just…pure instinct”

But right now, thinking about them and of not seeing them ever again makes him so sad. It hurts to think about it. Them. In fact it hurts to think about anyone, right now he likely will never see them again. Swallowing hard and blinking away tears he tries to ignore how miserable that makes him.

The sky goes dark, quicker than it should, the clouds he is used to seeing grow black and he swears he sees lightning, the waves…don't pick up as he would expect, they do move more but nothing that would be dangerous. The sea doesn't get its glow in the dark effect and Peter is left with a sense of unease. The bottles don't come. Its not inky like before, its water only.

At least….till he sees the glow again, only this time its not the water that glows, but rather something inside it? At first glance he thinks they are plastic bags. Then he realizes they are actually jellyfish.

Glowy jellyfish.

They are small the size of his two fists put together. They move across the water, again, all in the opposite direction of where he is going. Peter doesn't tend to look back much but once he woke up he just felt the need to go in a straight line. Even when everything he sees goes in the opposite direction. He is not even sure why he does, he just feels compelled to.

The sound of thunder makes him cover his ears, too loud, too painful! Peter puts the hood up of his raincoat, he sets the radio and blanket inside the box, it wont let them get wet as a few droplets fall from the sky.

He grabs the rows and begins to work. He sees more and more jellyfish as he advances, their sizes changing from small to bigger, and bigger…

When he passes one that is the length of the boat he gets a shiver down his spine. That's…way too big, the tentacles are thick and long and flowy almost… like a dress under the water. He continues as the rain pelters him, the thunder makes him almost jump every time, the noise stronger and closer, the lightening the only specks of light illuminating the sky and giving hints of light from between the fog.

Peter rows and the jellyfish continue to grow, this time getting more long, covering more of the space around him. He sees the pathway they make with their glow, its beautiful if not a bit…terrifying.

Things go well, despite the weather change, the creatures seem peaceful for now. Its when Peter actually has to go above a jellyfish the size of a house that he gets in trouble. He knows that jellyfish are more water than anything, they aren't actually moving, the water does, they eat what gets tangled between them. Sting them into submission. Their airheads basically.

Predators in the most…loosest of terms. Peter does like watching sea life documentaries, sue him.

So he feels all sorts of conflicted when he floats above said creature and its…loose limbs. He stops rowing, hoping it will move away on its own, yet…it doesn't. In fact more and more creatures begin to just…float closer to him. 

Swallowing, he tries to move instead, yet when he touches the water, and…hits a tentacle, unlike everything he knows about jellyfish, the thing…moves. Closer to an octopus than what should be a creature that lacks any real mobility.

It wraps around the row and lets one of the tips fall inside the ship, he yells in panic as it flats uselessly in its gelatinous state. Peter is not sure what to do, so he pulls the one row that didn't get grabbed into the ship and then struggles with the other one. The grip is not tight so he can rip it away. That…causes more of its limbs to flop over the ship like stripes. The rain was making everything slippery, at this point more drizzle than actual full blown rainfall.

“Out, out, OUT!” God dammit what is this hell-!

He uses the row to try and push the tentacles back into the water but all it manages is more of them falling on top of the boat, covering it. He has no idea why, until…they begin to push down.

He has to balance himself before falling. His eyes widen as he realizes its trying to sink him. “No! No, no-” Peter tries even more quickly to get rid of them, hitting and pushing but the row is too large and its a clumsy attempt at best, so in a moment of panic he…grabs it with his hand.

He doesn't register the pain immediately.

Oh no, no, it takes him a few seconds to feel the pain and burning sensation on his palm. He yells and has to struggle to push and pull at some point he looks and his hand is blistered and red. He pulls off his raincoat and uses it to help himself push the thing away. “Leave me alone, leave me alone please-” 

He continues the slow work as it replaces every tentacle he drops for a new one. He doesn't know what to do. The ship groans under the weight and pulls downwards.

Oh god, oh god-

“Please-!” He uses both hands to try and fight it off even if it hurts, but nothing works. “Please” The tentacle he grabs recoils and grabs him, His entire hand is engulfed and he screams in pain, it hurts, it hurts so, so much, why does it-

Forget?

Wha-

Forget it hurts. All of it.

“What?! No, Let me go please, i don't want to die-”

Forget them . Come with us, come back, start again. Forget?

“Forget who?! Go where? What is going on?!” A tentacle touches his cheek and he screams again, it hurts it hurts it hurts so much-

Forget and start again, it hurts to remember doesn't it? You have to let go. Let go . 

Let go? Let go of what? Who- 

His mind goes to the cats, to…the others, isn't forgetting kinder? Wouldn't it be better? To not be miserable because of them.

Let me, forget…him, you can begin anew, forget.

Peter struggles, he struggles till he doesn't, till he is still, the pain almost gone, the sensation is numbing he is tired. He cries.

“Will it hurt less? Will this stop? I want it to stop, how can I do that?” But to that there is no reply.

Let me help you forget.

And for a moment Peter’s mind is filled with memories of his childhood, miserable as it was, of his siblings blurry as they were, his life quickly passing by, muffled, gray, slipping through the edges. When he reaches his thirties….a memory, of a party, of Simon beaming at him, and a man.

Older than him, well put together, with the most…unsettling pair of eyes he has ever seen, yet also the most beautiful too. He always had pretty eyes…

What was his name? Who…

It jumps and he forgets and then there is a man, a familiar one, blonde, same eyes, fights, misery, pain, lies, bets- 

A bastard.

Yet, yet-! Dates, kisses, sex too. Comfort, softness in places and people who should not even be able to have it. Love.

Cats, three of them but one his, a kitten.

Small and weak and abandoned to his fate.

An old man who was nice to him, in his own way, who amused him, who gave him things he could keep, who gave him his first captain coat, he was annoying yes, but he was…Peter’s…

He struggles to think, he never could put a name to it, worried of the consequences. But in a small part of him he knew he was a friend, family. Something to miss and want away when it was too annoying as family gets.

Peter is lax on the ground, it all slips away from his mind, the pain is numb. He…feels something pressing against his chest,he is on the floor of the ship. It hurts. It…hurts. With his free hand he moves clumsily till he pulls the rings that were pressing against his chest. Rings…? Marriage.

Those were…his.

A proposal at midnight first, a dinner and a request on the second one.

Peter breathes hard in and out, in and out-

“I- i don't want to forget”

Why? Shhh, come with us, you will forget and be like us, free.

No more thoughts in your head just….peace.

Come child, be like us, be like me, be at ease, be at home. 

But Peter doesn't want to, this isn't home either. Whatever that is, and thinking even if it hurts…that was him. He doesn't want to forget, he doesn't want to be no one, he wants to matter.

Even if its to himself.

“Let…ME , go!” He stops grabbing the creature and after a long pause it too, stops holding him, in fact every single tentacle drops back to the water.

Alright.

And then there is nothing more. Peter is left on the floor panting, feeling his entire body paralyzed. The rain was cold, his raincoat was just a little bit away from him, but he couldn't move. Every single nerve on his body was on fire and his brain was hazy, his memories where…slowly regaining clarity, color.

They were his, as painful as they were and he didn't…want to let them go. He didn't want them to stop hurting, because as long as he had them, Peter was himself and even if they made him sad, he could still be happy too.

It takes him hours of laying there before he can finally move, the rain stops, albeit the sky is still dark. All he manages is to turn to his back. A strike of lightning in the distance…

Hm?

Peter blinks a few times.

Another one and-

He shifts and turns and closes his eyes. No.

Nonononononono.

No.

Nope.

No.

He doesn't-

No.

n

o

It takes him even longer to stop crying, he started the moment he managed to turn around, no. He isn't- don't look up.

Don't look up to the sky, he gets it now. Just look to the front. Never back, never up, never down. Just…keep going and avoid looking for more than you can see, or even understand. He shivers, his hands are still full of blisters, his face when he touches it has a burn on one of his cheeks. Rowing will be a pain, but he must keep going.

He is trying to not think about any of it, the jellyfish and that- His mouth dries just to think about it. The size. The colossal size. Better not to…dwell on it. He couldn't even fully understand the shape that it had, just…there were so many eyes.

Peter gets up and with nothing but his own body to take stock off, he sits, he cant row now, he just…can't think. He sits completely blanket out staring at his own hurt and messed up hands. This trip will be even more painful huh?

The radio is useless until it isn't, the first time he hears music he almost drops it. Its days if not a week after the jellyfish incident. At night there are no more bottles, or jellyfish, just water normal looking one.

His hand bleeds for the first two days, it aches horribly and he has no way to bandage them, he only feels a compulsion to keep going, despite not having a goal in mind beyond passing through this hell.

The music is a piano, it takes him a long while to realize he knows the melody, the one that repeats itself over and over again. It was the song his sister played the night before she left, Lydia played this for him. 

Peter knew the melody, he tried to forget it, but right now…he can't be happier that he didn't. Its still as sad as he remembers it to be, but…its something. Its…a goodbye, a hello. It's a gift.

It plays sporadically, he leaves the radio on all the time now, waiting for it. For the piano as he has nothing more to cling to. Soon the piano is accompanied by a violin, then the music shifts changes to other tunes he doesn't know. None of them with lyrics, just music.

His thoughts are more tired and peaceful with it. The music was much better than the quiet, than his own voice for company. He could just close his eyes and focus on it without a single thought behind.

Peter relishes on it.

In the second week after the jellyfish, he sees petals on the water. Golden petals. Red ones too. He picks them up. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with them. As he advances, his hands…still hurt, but healing, scarring along with his face, he sees more and more and more till finally he cant see the water. Just the petals.

Its not long before he reaches what he can only describe as a city, he is ecstatic, but it seems abandoned, his boat goes through canals, almost like if he was in Venice.

The place was half crumbled, everything was in islands with destroyed buildings, roots and vines and flowers grew all over. A tree taller than he has ever seen grows in the distance dropping golden leaves and letting sap fall into the water. Fish, for the first time appear, they seem to eat from the roots that he can barely see poking out in the water. They look all…wrong, malformed.

He decides not to get down the ship. After all there was nothing there for him to pick up anyways. Eventually he sees sunflowers, despite the fact that he hasn't seen the sun since he got here, or has seen the anything but fog, they seem to grow fine. If not in…insolit places. Their petals falling.

Peter watches, eventually he sees more flowers, all overgrown of what would be considered the small town. In the water, full blooms float as well. He sees plenty of marigolds.

From the tree he sees the golden leaves fall perpetually like a cascade of gold. Long yellow stripes of silk can be seen tied up between the small islands. His curiosity gets the best of him and when he gets close he pulls at one of them. Nothing happens, in fact it unties from the two ends he was set in and slowly Peter can pull it towards him. He runs his fingers through it, soft.

He considers it before using it to wrap it around his hand. He picks another one, has to balance himself on the boat before he gets it but its…fine. He tries to wrap it around his other hand, but…he considers it and elects not to. 

The last thing he does is pick up a carnation from the water. The bloom makes him think of…Elias. It was his favorite flower.

With shaky hands he sets the flower and the piece of golden silk inside the box. 

Peter quietly rows and passes the town, the flowers were beautiful but…there was something really wrong with that place and he didnt want to stay too long to find out what was it.

The next hurdle he goes through is the boats. The night is calm as usual when nothing spooky is going on, but then in the fog he sees…light. Familiar light, like the one his own boat was making.

A lantern, then two, then three…

More and more dots pass by, the fog retreating till he sees more people in ships all sitting and rowing. The only difference was that…they were going to the opposite direction that Peter was.

He was going against the current, while they were going with it.  He stares at them, all pale, all seemingly…accepting of their fate. All of them childrens too.

Peter is shocked, but…but he calls out.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” No one turns around, no one seems to see him or even hear him. He tries again. “Hello? Where are you going? Why are you going in that direction, what's going on?” 

No one…says anything.

For a long while all there is. Quiet.

Peter only sees the many many boats at night. And there are just so…many of them.

Time blurs, he is not sure how long he keeps going, the radio now has music all the time, sometimes he swears there is interference, he swears he can almost hear…humming. Human humming.

During the night…he is sure he hears mumbles and a voice, but it never seems to…fully reach him.

It goes on like this for who knows how long, Peter got bored of counting the days, he talks to the dead, for that's what they are, none of them ever answer, but its nice to see a person after everything. It takes him even longer to finally see someone…he actually knows.

By then he was bored and just…tired. He wasn't moving, was he? He was just struggling against the current, there was no end, sometimes he contemplated letting the sea take him with the rest. After all wherever he was going there was nothing waiting for him there, he is fairly sure he is likely going to hell if this is purgatory of sorts. That's the conclusion he came to after seeing the rest of the people.

A middle ground.

Its then, after…who knows how long, his hands were healed, he washed the bloody stripe of golden fabric, albeit…it turned red. He was puzzled by it, so he kept it in the box with the blanket. A red and yellow string.

Anyways, he finally sees a familiar face, sort of, he recognizes the look and the scars who apparently were kept even in his childish form. He can't exactly believe it, after all, last time he saw him he killed him.

“Archivist?” And surprise of surprises, the man turns towards him. 

Their boats both slow down as each of them stop rowing, even if they were going in opposite direction. It seems to take a moment for him to register who he is, when he does he narrows his eyes. Peter should feel the outrage, the fury for him killing him but…

After all this time, at most he just feels exhausted.

“Peter?”

He smiles ruefully at him. “Well there, hello to you too. Seems like we are in the same..boat huh? Hahahaha” He can't help the stupid joke, he always did like to make them. Elias actually found them amusing, even if he said he didn't. It always made him smile… Also its been months since he last spoke to a human being, so, excuse his social awkwardness.

The archivist pulls a face and then asks what is going on. Peter blinks and asks him the same thing.

“After all, i died, so i reckon you did too, i don't know where i'm going though. Do you?” Jonathan opens and closes his mouth. He looks at his hands and says he died, Martin killed him at his request.

Peter makes his own face of disbelief, before saying that doesn't sound much like him. “Well it was the only way to save the world and send the fears away since Jonah did his ritual” There is fury and anger and hurt. There is also resentment, albeit not…all aimed at Jonah.

“Oh? Problems in paradise?” Jon glares, Peter merely scoffs at him.

“What, did you think things were going to go well with him? Really? You barely know him, you thought he was going to be on your side? Did you have another idea besides sending the fears away? Please, you were alone, by the time you woke up no one was on your side besides officer Tonner and then she was gone too. Martin? He knows how to play people, even you, even me”

Jon gets outraged of course, gets smug about Martin defying Peter, and tries to defend him. Peter gives him a disgusted face.

“You just don't want to admit that you two didn't cut it, that in the end neither of you really understood or knew each other” 

“Screw you-! You don't know anything, if anything this was all your fault, you knew what Jonah was planning and you died to be stubborn. You doomed the world!” Peter gives him a pitiful look.

“Me? If Martin had killed him as I intended none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have sent him to the lonely, you wouldn't have gotten the last mark. Or perhaps you would, you walked time and time again into everyone's business, wanting more and more and even when you had a way out, you were too much of a chicken to blind yourself on your own. No, you had to ask Martin. Oh, I heard about that . If you wanted to spare the world you would have just quitted, or simply do like Getrude and get rid of everyone without getting your hands involved. In fifty years, that woman only ever got three marks. While in the span of two years you got all 14, one after the other because you had too much of a bloody bleeding heart and curiosity for your own good”

Peter might not be angry, but he is bitter.

“Don't blame me for your failures”

Jonathan looks stunned and then guilty and then incensed.

“If its anyone's fault is the web and Jonah, it wanted this, he wanted this. We were all just his pawns” Peter can't deny that.

“Fair enough then. So? Archivist, what are you doing?” Jon takes a breath,his mouth stays open and then…it closes with a soft clic.

“I…don't know. What is there?” Peter hunches his shoulders and touches his face.

“Nothing you will like” 

Jon makes a soft oh.

“What is on the other end?” 

Its Jon who frowns and says he doesn't know, he just woke up alone in the ship, he didn't even see Martin. Peter says maybe he survived.

“After all he wasn't the one being stabbed and cut off from an eldritch god”

They both stay quiet. Jon looks at his hands and says he will keep going. Peter takes a deep breath and says he will too. Before its too…late he asks about Jonah, the archivist reply makes him pause.

“I killed him. He died begging for his life. He…wished me luck”

Peter feels that childish and petty sense of jealousy. The archivist had Martin, had Jonah wishing him luck even if he killed him. Peter…

“Alright”

Peter rows and so does Jon, two opposite ends.

Who cares?

He does. Very much so actually.

Peter was embracing the child-like mentality, he couldn't help it, it was months and it was truly…freeing in some ways. His own childhood was gray and controlled, even if he suffers no is here to tell him how to behave. He is not sure what to make of it.

The music of the radio changes, from a piano and a violin in somber duets, it goes to songs that he knew, songs that he remembers from living. The first time he hears the Piña Colada song he bursts into tears, curling up in the ground. It takes him a few moments to sing, his voice a mess but he can't stop the stupid little smile.

As he thinks of better times.

Of a honeymoon by the beach, of a balcony and a song playing in the distance as he and Elias drank champagne and kissed while sitting on the ground like two idiots. Elias sat on his lap, held his face and kissed him silly, he was so tipsy…

Peter remembers laughing and kissing him back, he would leave for many months after this, but it was worth the two weeks of peace, the memories would keep him lonely as he was away. Missing something that he knew he loved.

Peter loved and hated Elias so much it made his heart feel like it would burst.

He sings and sings, and then yells the lyrics into the sky, his voice cracking as any pre pubescent teen would at trying to reach the goddamn pitch.

More songs, more music, more…things to entertain himself.

All songs that in one way or another he related to…happiness, joy. A moment in time where he felt good. As a child, all he heard was the piano and the stupid pre-prepared wedding music.

As an adult he was reluctant to broaden his horizons, but…he was away from home, he was free. And he liked music. 

Mr. Bluesky always made him think of Simon, to this day if he hears the song he just pictures the old man. The Piña Colada song of course makes him think of Elias, the…abba song too. Mamma Mia. 

That he blames on Elias and one drunken night as the other put it on and forced him to slow dance with him as he sang the stupid little ditty. Peter held that memory close to his chest.

Thinking of the jellyfish trying to steal that…it felt like a physical blow. He held his chest, the rings. All the songs that he enjoys that make him think of home just pop by.

Again he recalls that there is no home to go back to. Not anymore. There is no place for him, this is his eternal punishment, perhaps even the songs were part of it, a reminder of what he can never get back, the burden he chose to keep when he pushed the jellyfish away.

He sees bodies in the water. He ignores them, they float through the current like everything else, Peter just…ignores them, he rows with his scarred hands. He ignores the souls, bodies or whatever floating underneath him and he just continues. He wont stop, he can't.

Peter doesn't know why, but all he knows is that he can't go where they are going.

One day the sun doesn't come back up, the day doesn't get light, its perpetually set in the night. Peter can only see due to the lantern, he rows and loses track of time, of days even more than before.

Its all just one endless night.

He rows.

And rows.

And rows till he feels his mind start to slip.

A mental breakdown.

No more bodies either, just Peter and the water, his scarred and colored hands, his fear, his hopelessness. His stupid radio with songs reminding him of a life that he can't have back, of a home that doesn't exist.

He rows and a storm comes by again. This time its a strong one, the waves finally pick up, and Peter has to struggle with his poor arms to row and sail further away, to avoid being dropped into the water, in fact he has to struggle to not hit a bunch of rocks! 

He is lucky the row was the first to touch it and not the ship, but going through them becomes harder as there is more and the rain makes it harder to see, his arms too tired but if he stops he will crash and sink. He has to try at the very least. His nerves were frayed to no end. He can't let things end here, he can't.

He must go on.

But its too much, the wind, the rain, the waves, his hands can't hold onto the rows, one of them slips and falls quickly to the water. Peter yells but he can't catch it, he almost falls himself trying to stretch his arm to get it. A dead face stares at him from under the water and he falls back on his ass as the ship shakes and a pale hand grabs the ship and tugs.

“Help me-”

“-us-” More hands, more people trying to climb into the boat, they were closer to the rocks. He grabs the row he has left and hits their hands making them drop the boat as they hiss and beg for help, to please let them in, they didn't mean to fall, to crash or drown again.

Peter is terrified. The rocks get closer, he uses the row to push against them to keep the boat from hitting it, its…hard and his entire body thrums with the force he makes. Peter spends the next part of his journey, quickly hitting the row of bodies trying to climb up with him while attempting to avoid hitting the rocks that could sink him, kill him.

It takes him hours.

By then he is just curled up under a seat, the bodies and rocks gone, the sea no longer as rowdy but still messy. There was no point. He lost the other row, he can try to use the one he has left, but the effort would double, if he has to push and change over and over again for it to move forwards instead of making him spin.

He stays under the seat. 

He stays there.

The night doesn't disappear.

he.

just….

waits.

Peter hasn't moved in days, there was no point anymore was it? His entire journey, what was he even aiming for, what was he trying to reach? Perhaps it would have been best to give up, follow the other ships, that had seemed like the kinder path.

Maybe forget and turn into a jellyfish. 

Maybe let the inky monster sink him and let him become a part of it.

Let the plants eat him.

He closes his eyes tightly.

What did he amount to?

Even in his death, he did nothing, he reached nothing, he survived but so what? What did that give him besides more pain, more scars, more…hurt. Terror. He was just as much of a pawn here as he was alive, he was just a scared kid. He-

He was just a kid.

Peter's lips tremble. he is just a kid all he wants is someone to be nice to him, all he wanted was to see people being happy, because in his house that didn't exist, he was afraid, he pushed his siblings away, felt better than them but in reality he was no different, yes he was more introverted and lonely, that's the only thing that kept him from being sent away to an unknown fate.

The only happy memories he has are of himself being on his own or of Simon being around him. All his adult memories are bittersweet, but they were his. A life, a…meaningless one, but his nonetheless.

Even Elias wasn't his, he never was, Peter was an idiot who thought he was manipulating him but in reality he truly fell in love.

He sniffles. Covering his mouth he muffles a sob. He wants his cats, he wants to sleep in a bed, he wants to walk across the beach, he wants a ship that is not a fucking rowboat. He wants….he wants a house by the beach. He always did.

Peter just wants to go home, but home is….

Home….

He puts the music, he is wrapped up in his blanket, the fog is even worse, the light of the lantern is dim, soon he will be just eaten by it. The fog that he used in life to kill others. Peter is exhausted.

He fiddles with the buttons till he finds a station playing something soft and mournful, no lyrics, just….a piano.

He tied the red and yellow strings on his wrist, they are soft so he just rubs his face there.  The flower he puts it on top of the radio. It did not wilt at all after all this time

“Hey Elias” He trails his fingers on the radio, he is still lying on the floor. “I hope you know I hate you. I wanted you gone, because…I loved you. So much it hurt, it made my heart hurt. I was weak, but you made me fall every time. Like a moth to a flame I kept going back to you” Peter sighs.

“I…miss you, I hate that, but I do. I miss our fights, i miss the times when we got along, where we were soft in between all the banter. I…” Peter likes his solitude, that probably will never change, but now, this sort hurts. “I don't want to be alone” 

The admittance burns at the tip of his tongue. “I'm scared, I just want to go home but I don't even know where home is anymore or even if I have one. The flat is gone, that's the closest I ever felt….” He takes a deep breath, the music is struggling, filled with static.

“I don't have much time left, I don't even know what happens if the fog is what eats me in the end, I suppose I just…disappear for good? This time no one will get to see me, I suppose I should be happy but…Lias I don't want to disappear, not like that, not like this. I just don't know. I wanted a reason to keep going, but with what purpose? There is nothing there besides an endless sea, I'm stuck, my own personal hell. I just…i wanted a sign, something but all i found were monsters and reasons to stop trying”

He drops his hand.

“I suppose in the end i am more like that friend of yours, the one you kept the skull of back at the institute. The one my grandfather killed”

A stupid fool asking for a lifeline from a man who would never give it. Who was too self centered and curious to see save anyone. Peter was like that too, selfish. Monstrous, but in that at least they understood each other.

“I don't want your help, I don't need it, I know you will never give it, I know…who I married. I know” Breathing slowly, feeling oddly tired and numb, his eyes start to close, the fog descends upon the inside of the boat like a physical presence. Dripping down as if it was water.

Cascading even.

“Goodbye little siren, goodbye my…m…my…shining- l…lighthouse….” Peter’s words slur slowly as his mouth falls asleep. His head falls and he struggles to open his eyes or move, the radio loses the music turning back to interference and white noise. 

The world ends for Peter once more.

He died finally, alone and afraid.

He still hears the radio as he goes under, he is too out of it, but he thinks he hears his name.

Stupid huh?

Something dark latches onto the boat and the light for the first time fickers, till it slowly starts to die out too.

Brightness hits his face, its painful how bright it actually is. Peter scrunches up his face, what- The numbness and exhaustion is still there, but he can barely open his eyes, squints really, before he sees light just…spinning.

Spinning?

Wait what?

The fog is receding from the ship, the inky handprints are all there, but there is no creature in sight. There is however light in the eternal night. Why is there light, where is it…why is it moving? Peter struggles to move, his limbs all weak. He finally looks up, he doesn't understand at first, the light is moving, it goes from left to right, it spins…it- hm? 

Its….Oh! Peter stares, its the light of a lighthouse! He recognizes it now. He- wait, a lighthouse? Then that means-

Land. Peter scrambles out from under the seat, he crawls in all fours to the front of the ship till he can stand on shaky legs. He stares and can't help but laugh desperately. He clutches his sweater in nervous energy. Its…still far away, but there is something. But…

Why should he try, what would he even do?

His smile drops and he sits again.

“What am I even supposed to do? I don't have anywhere to go”

The radio picks up music again. He doesnt song, but the lyrics, the lyrics just-

We laugh until we think we'll die, barefoot on a summer night

Nothing new is sweeter than with you

And in the streets, we run afree, like it's only you and me

Geez, you're something to see

Oh, home, let me come home

Home is whenever I'm with you

Oh, home, let me come home

Home is wherever I'm with you

Peter stares.

Home…?

The flat is gone, so is the ship, Mooreland was never home. When Elias was in jail and he had the flat for himself…even if all their things were there, it wasn't nearly as…comfortable. It was after all just him and the cats.

“Home…is not the flat is it?” Home is three cats and a beholder bastard who makes his life hell. “But…what does it matter we would never be happy together, we…we will just ruin each other we…”

He fidgets with the silk on his hand.

“I want to go home, i want to…see the cats, i want to see Elias”

The music picks up on the last chorus till it slowly drifts off.

“I want to be mad, i want to…laugh at his face for failing, for winning, i want…i want to hold his hand” Thinking of kissing still felt weird in this body. Childish as it is.

Peter looks at the remaining row and the distance. All he has left is to try.

“Home, let's find home” He picks up the row and slowly, as he has to row and change sides every time to keep a semi straight line, he moves forwards. And for the first time since the moment he died, he finally sees ground.

He finally sees sand.

A beach and a cliffside and on top of that a lighthouse illuminating the way back.

Peter jumps out of the ship the moment he is close to the ground, he picks up his things, the blanket tied around his shoulders, the radio on his hand, the flower in his pocket.

He hits ground and he feels like he is going to weep tears of joy, Peter makes it to the beach and he flops to the sand, he laughs, and laughs hysterically, till all he can do is cry out of desperation. His entire body is thrumming with energy, its still nighttime, so he has to make one more trip to get the lantern. Like this he makes his way to the lighthouse.

There is no door to enter to his dismay, however there is a strange little message.

Tie the knot, pay the fee in gold, love and fear. 

In front of that plaque, there was a small chest to put things inside. Peter stares trying to understand.

Tie the knot and pay a fee? How do you pay in love and fear? Gold? He doesn't have money! Peter thinks, biting his lip, clearly he has to be here, the lighthouse turned on in the right moment it has to mean something.

Tie…Well, if its literally he has something to tie. Peter takes off the yellow and red thread. Tie a knot, here goes nothing. He ties both pieces together, then he interwoven them again in a braid of sorts. Eventually he places them inside the box.

Love? Hm… Well, Carnations are supposed to represent love, he wanted to give the flower to Elias, but…

He places it inside.

Now gold and fear kind of confuse him. When he thinks about fear he looks at his hands, his still colored hands. He frowns.

He bites his lip and eventually he grabs his blanket. Fear, he…was afraid and he hid here, he tried to also get rid of the marks but couldn't, they were just a part of him now. Then he turns to the lantern, the thing that kept him alive, that lets him see the monsters. He felt afraid without the light. 

Peter hesitates but he turns the lantern off and places it inside the box, he was in almost pitch darkness, the lighthouse being the only light left. Swallowing he only has one more thing left. Gold.

Yellow raincoat and boots, no. But gold…there is one thing that he has that is golden.

He pulls out his rings, Silver and gold, the second one a gift from Elias to him. Their legal marriage. He hesitates with this one, it was his. All the other things were just stuff he found, but this was his.

He didn't even know what was inside the stupid lighthouse. It could be anything.

But he got this far and he wanted to find home. Peter grabs the golden ring and gently puts it inside the box before closing it.

Nothing happens for a moment, he looks around feeling kind of stupid, the blanket he ties to his shoulders like a cape. Biting his lip he opens the chest again but the objects were gone.

He blinks, what- But…did it not work and it took them anyways?

Where-

Peter gets up feeling robbed, he gave away the ring Elias gave him! God he is so stupid he can't believe it, why would he trust anything in this shitty afterlife, for all he knows this was just a way to leave him defenseless and he fell for it. Hell getting worse for him.

Maybe he is like in that book Elias read once, the…seven circles of hell or whatever, maybe Peter is just walking his way deeper into it. He should have let it consume him, perhaps it will be worse, maybe he-

Something in the corner of his eye catches his eye, light, soft, thing, a crack? He moves. He knows there weren't any doors before but now there is one. He hesitates on the handle. 

But…what else is he supposed to do?

Peter tries to open the door at the same time as someone else quickly opens it. He is standing in front of a…he thinks he sees a girl, the hair is long sue him, but then he notices the clothes and he is fairly sure it's a boy.

Red curly hair, freckles…but the important part is-

“Jonah?”

“Peter?”

Peter is left speechless at the child in front of him, the voice unrecognizable, same with the body, but the eyes…those he knows better than most. Sharp, cold and beautiful albeit there is an air of fear and sadness now. Peter holds out his hand and-

“Peter” His name sounds like relief, it sounds important as he says it. Jonah’s eyes get misty eyed and Peter panics, not knowing how to deal with it. 

“Lias-”

“You made it!” Peter has no idea what to say. “You…how did you- there were no doors, I was stuck here for months!” Peter stares and then he opens and closes his mouth, Elias- Jonah keeps asking him stuff but Peter can't process. He is just…

“Hi. Im home”

Jonah stops and then he is crying and Peter is being hugged and it takes less than a second for him to hug JOnah back just as tightly as he buries his face on his neck, in his hair, he is breathing and crying too, he kisses him as he can in whatever piece of skin he manages as Jonah does the same and they are just a tangled mess of limbs and tears.

Peter sleeps in a bed. Small but good enough for two twelve year olds. He finally sleeps at night, he asks Jonah to let a light on, he agrees. Peter holds onto him so tightly he thinks they could meld into each other. Jonah likewise holds onto him.

They don't talk much beyond a few words of reassurance and why’s and how’s neither can answer because they just don't know, or understand.

In the morning, Jonah wants to leave, Peter says he wants to stay a few days, he only ever slept in a boat for months on end. Jonah, who was stuck in the lighthouse, wants to explore. 

They fight, they stay quiet and seethe but unlike their adult selves, neither can't stand the quiet now. Both drift to each other and hold each other till they feel better. JOnah compromises to stay for a while, Peter agrees to go with him once he feels less tired.

Its something.

Jonah has food, Peter can actually cook. He doesn't need to eat but god does cooking soothes his nerves. There are no scissors or mirrors in the lighthouse. The closest thing he found was the grandfather clock, the hands on it looked sharp as knives, looked like scissors too, the glass on it was reflective. But you had to break it.

Jonah says he didn't have a face when he got here.

“I was all ink, only had my eyes” Peter shudders thinking of the ink creatures. He mentions the monsters, Jonah seems curious but he refrains from pushing which is a first. They eat and his husband cries at the first bite of food, admitting he thought he would never get to eat his cooking again. That he actually felt sad about it.

Peter swallows and says he almost forgot but that he couldn't bare to do it.

Jonah tries to tie his hair, its not…great, Peter finds the yellow silk, all the objects except for the ring were there. He uses the yellow to tie Jonah’s hair into a braid, he even interlaces it with it to his delight.

Peter’s hair is short again so he can't tie his hair.

Jonah grabs the red string and ties it around Peter’s wrist, he cuts it afterwards and then ties it around his own. 

“There, now we cant lose each other” He doesnt get it, but if it makes him happy….

Eventually after a week Elias asks to go and Peter agrees, not after they spend the last day sitting by the top of the lighthouse watching the foggy ocean. Elias head on his shoulder, the radio playing music.

There is no champagne and they are kids, but…its one of the happiest days since he got to this place.

“I love you”

Jonah curls up against him, the blanket now around the two of them.

“I love you too”

He doesn't apologize for his part in Peter dying, he didn't expect him too and to be honest it was also his own hubris that did him in. Elias talks about the ritual, about how he won, about months of feeling nothing but ecstasy.

“Oh I sure hope the archivist caught you with clean pants-” He hits him and looks very cute, all red faced matching his hair now.

“Shut the hell up! It wasn't like that at all!!!” Peter snickers and kisses his cheek. 

“Little devil”

Jonah bites his cheek to Peter’s outrage. “Pervert” He mocks gasps and then says pot and kettle.

“I don't really want…i don't know if its safe, Lias, what if this place is the only safe one there is?” Peter is tired. Jonah touches his scarred cheek and then grabs one of his hands. He kisses the palm. “I'm afraid too, but I don't want to be stuck here forever. I want to go home” Peter asks what does that mean for him.

“Home? Well…the flat, you. The cats too” 

“Not the institute?” Jonah makes a strange face and says no.

“Its not home per se, it was my…heart but not home”

Peter kicks his legs back and forth. “Home is a house by the beach to me, with you, the cats, Simon visiting. That's what home is to me”

Jonah stays quiet and softly says he would like that to be home.

“Well…maybe we can find it, who knows maybe there is something good out there?” 

Jonah thinks and says maybe. “After all…i heard you” Peter blinks, asking how come.

“My radio, i heard you talking to me, i couldn't make the lighthouse work since i got here, but i heard you and somehow…i did and then…you managed to make me a door. If you haven't made it this far i would be stuck here forever, if you haven't survived and found all of those things we would have never found each other. Maybe there is something good”

Peter pulls him to his lap, Jonah squeaks adorably and despite his feelings on the matter he kisses him. Actually…Peter likes it. Likes it a lot. He and Jonah just make out and then laugh, with pink faces and nervous smiles. A hand touches his scarred cheek rubbing a thumb there.

“Hi”

“Hello”

Peter wont say it, cant fully conceive that…maybe this is what he was driving towards to, Elias. All this time, he was just trying and struggling to make his way home. Maybe there was a point to this? Who knows. All he knows is that he wants to be with him. They will drive each other mad but…there is no one else he would rather drive insane than this beautiful bastard.

In the morning they prepare to leave. They have backpacks and supplies and they are about to go, except, when they open the door…they're not outside, but rather in a completely new room. 

Jonah stiffens but Peter notices there are windows, he can see a beach, but more importantly he can see the sun, something he hasn't seen in months.

He tugs Jonah to keep going to explore, its not just a room its… a house. They are on the second floor, they find the bathroom, the master bedroom, a study…They go around and eventually they reach the first floor. There he hears a pair of meows, when he turns Captain and Duchess were there. 

Needless to say he and JOnah both go and grab their cats crying and holding them as they kiss their little heads.

They can leave, the door to the lighthouse is gone, they are on a completely different beach in a beautiful house by the sea. In the distance they can see a town, can see people too. They don't go yet, Peter just soaks in the warmth of the sun with Jonah.

Its two weeks before they get a growth spur and soon they are seventeen more or less. Which is great mostly because he doesn't have to use a stool to cook in the kitchen anymore.

In the town ex avatars live, he finds Simon who looks younger, he also hugs Peter tightly before congratulating him on getting here, he admits to missing him and being sad he died. Peter is overwhelmed but says he missed him too.

His scars remain in place, Simon says softly that he hopes the journey isn't so bad.

“My own trip was…hm long, time works funny here, a lot to think about and sort out lad. Anyways, you are welcome to come visit me any time”

Jonah finds his mother, she has a flower shop and she bursts into tears when she sees her son, touching his face and calling him a miracle. 

“I love you jonah, so much, oh god-” Peter  leaves them to it.

Empress Socks comes a few weeks later, looking scared and thin, Peter holds her all the time, it seems to soothe both of them. Jonah just stays next to him and they sit on the wooden deck at the front of their house. Peter sighs and drops his head on top of JOnah’s

“So? Is death so bad?” Jonah grumbles and says maybe. Peter sighs.

“We can try again, that's what the ships were for, that's what my mother told me, you can try again, the whole…reincarnation thing” Peter mulls it over, he could have tried again if he went with the ships huh? But….

“I think I want to stay here for a…long while. I don't have any hurry to try again, besides I have everything I need right here. You make life interesting as annoying as you are” And Jonah gets offended and they fight and they make up.

And its perfect.

Peter still has to leave a light on. Elias has to check every day that the windows and doors are still there. Peter cuts his hair, albeit Jonah is alright with letting be a bit longer than before, to his chin really. Peter just likes playing with the curls when they cuddle.

Its not perfect, but they are doing better and maybe just maybe he passed whatever test there was. Whatever it is,he is glad he was stubborn enough to remain.