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Peter generally tries not to think too much about the past. He finds it makes his mood swing dangerously, edging towards insanity, and he doesn’t want to find himself slipping away again. He’s been there before - it’s no fun. He prefers spending his days in the present, his mind focused on things ahead, not dwelling on times past and gone. What’s done, is done, he told Derek the week before, and his nephew had just glared at him and held on to the picture of him and Laura he’d been keeping in his wallet for years already. Peter doesn’t have any pictures left, wouldn’t want any either, because he can see how hurt Derek looks when he lets his thumb brush across his sister’s face. He doesn’t let himself remember, because when he does, he thinks he won’t be able to keep on going.
He freezes in the middle of the record store when he hears it, the lyrics that bring everything flashing back with such embarrassing clarity he almost drops the vintage Rolling Stones EP he was about to buy. His vision blurs, red and gold flashing before his eyes, screaming in his ears. The violin accompanying the words almost sounds like the wailing of young children, bouncing of the edges of his mind and growing louder with the second until it’s all he can hear. He manages to put the record down before he bolts out of the store, leaving behind a very confused bunch of students and an annoyed store clerk.
Fire crackling, his sister trying to push past the barrier of mountain ash that lined the escape route, the all-consuming fear as he realized there was no way out. The children are screaming, the adults tugging at the barriers in the air-holes that lead outside. But without the ability to shift, it was a lost cause. He can see the moment Talia comes to the same conclusion, and runs towards him, grabbing him by the shoulders and looking him in the eyes. He can tell what she means without having to say it out loud.
“I don’t think I can.” He mutters, giving her a helpless look. There has to be another solution, there has to be a way out. She smiles sadly, and flashes her eyes at him, the red giving him a burst of courage. She then presses her lips to his forehead and says. “Like the moon loves the sun.”
“And the stars love the sky.” Peter replies, voice hoarse, and then she’s gone, huddling the kids together in the middle of the room with the other humans. Peter’s eyes immediately seek out Mira, and she looks up as if she felt his gaze. Her eyes are sad, and he can see she understands what’s happening, knows she’s not making it out alive. His instincts are screaming at him, and he glances over to where Talia is furiously whispering instructions to the remaining adults, who are looking shocked yet determined.
Peter makes his way towards Mira, crouches down in front of her and glances down at the bundle in her arms.
“He’s asleep.” Mira says, her voice shaky, and Peter has to swallow to suppress his own tears. He gently reaches out to cup her face, pressing their foreheads together, for once so glad she can’t smell his emotions because there’s nothing but the stench of misery and pain right now, mixed with the harsh prickly smell of smoke.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He mutters, taking in the way her lips curl into a smile as she swats his arm. She’s so beautiful, even when her face looks ashen and there’s dirt streaking her cheeks, and he wants to remember every little detail, have it burned in his memory when it blacks out.
“What would you be sorry for, you big idiot.”
“For not being able to protect you and Teddy.”
Mira chuckles, and runs her fingers through his hair. He leans into it, tears burning in his eyes when she scratches behind his ear, the weak spot only she knows about. The weak spot Teddy will never get to use against him. “You’ve always protected us from the worst.”
There’s a meaning behind her words, and Peter almost laughs. Almost. There’s a crash behind them, parts of the ceiling crumbling down, and Peter can see Jake and Erik trying to support the ceiling so it won’t fall on top of the children. There’s not much time left.
“Now you listen to me, Peter Hale.” She says, urgently, and her expression is the fierce stubbornness that made him fall in love when they first met. “This is not the time to be a coward. You’re a wolf, not a pigeon.” She leans forward and presses their lips together, Teddy safely tucked between their bodies like nothing bad will happen as long as they keep him there. Peter kisses her back with all the love he has in his body, and he almost doesn’t notice when she moves his hands from her face to her neck.
“I love you.” She whispers against his lips, and squeezes his wrist, before she bites down gently on his bottom lip and smiles. “Oh, how I love you.”
“As I love you.” He replies, hands trembling as much as his voice. “Wait for me on the other side.”
Her chuckle is the last sound she makes before he snaps her neck with a quick twist of his arms, and her hand falls down, her entire body going limp. The pain that shoots through his entire body is indescribable, a large hole where Mira used to sit. He gasps for air, trying to see through the stabbing pain in his chest, which grows worse when the ceiling breaks down on top of Jake. The screaming grows louder, and Teddy starts to wriggle, the loud sounds finally waking him. Peter takes him from Mira’s hands, tucking the child against his chest and muttering sweet words until he stills again. He’s so tiny, so fragile, and so very human. He remembers the day he was born, Mira’s exhausted face lighting up when Peter had handed her the wriggling body, not bothering to clean it up just yet. There were excited yelps from the hallway, their family hearing the third heartbeat and excited the child had been born healthy. He looks down at Teddy’s form, sleeping peacefully, and takes a shaky breath. Ironic, in a way, that he’d been the one bringing him in the world, and would be the one making him leave as well. It wasn’t fair. He leans forward and presses a kiss on Teddy’s forehead, breathing in the scent of him and Mira and family and safety. And then it’s but a couple seconds before it’s over, before he’s bending over the bodies of his family and screaming. He feels the house crumpling around and on top of him, but he doesn’t know if the pain he’s feeling is physical or mental. There’s so much sound around him he doesn’t really know what happens next, except that when he gets a grip on his surroundings, he’s outside, and he turns to see the flames reach for the sky, smell the stench of burned flesh in the air and see his own arms are red-raw and not healing as they should. But it doesn’t matter, because his family is dead, someone killed his pack and he’s about to die and there’s nothing he can do about it. It’s an oddly comforting thought to have before the world turns black.
He’s not aware of his surroundings until his feet touch the edge of the forest, the heavy scent of the earth and decomposing leaves bringing him back to the present for a moment, enough he realizes it’s safe for him to let go. So he cracks his neck, and lets his wolf come through completely, for the first time since he was young. It feels like jumping in an icy pond, his spine lengthening, nose growing longer as fur easily replaces his skin. There’s a twinge of pain when his tail starts growing, and he lets out a yelp, but it’s over as soon as it’s started, leaving him panting and taking a moment to adjust to his new vision.
He takes off again, focusing on his senses and trying to keep all rational thought out of his mind. The emptiness doesn’t get any less, this way, but he’s at least able to contain it. It’s easier to understand, to mourn, when his entire being is aware of exactly how lonely he is. It’s the most common way of mourning for their kind, going back to nature and wrapping themselves around the feeling until they can accept it and move on. He never had the chance before. When he came out of his coma, it didn’t feel like he had the right to mourn anymore, felt like he didn’t deserve it because he woke up with blue eyes and the taste of death on his tongue.
He keeps running until he can smell himself on the trees, until he’s in his favorite clearing, where the ground is soft and mossy, bouncing back against his paws. He spins around once, before he slowly makes his way to the middle of the clearing, where a fallen tree has lodged itself on top of some larger rocks, creating a small cave. He whines as he walks towards the cave, sniffing the air in idle hope to catch another familiar scent other than his own. He doesn’t. He feels the incredible sadness welling up in his chest, and instead of pushing it down, shifting back and pretending this didn’t happen, he lets it come through. He whimpers as the feeling settles in his bones, floods through his arteries until all he can feel is the overwhelming pain of loss. The forest doesn’t feel any more like home than the flat his human lives in, and when it crashes down on him he throws his head back and howls. It’s as much an expression of his own sadness as an ode to everyone he lost, his family, his pack, parts of his heart that can never be put back together. If he tries hard enough, he can imagine he hears them howling back, and he keeps that sound in his head as he curls up in the cave and closes his eyes.
He jerks awake suddenly, heartbeat spiking and the fur in his neck standing on end. He was sure there was a threat, but he couldn’t immediately pinpoint it, since all he could smell was pack and nature and… Pack.
Derek is sitting outside the cave, a small smile on his face as he turns his head around to Peter, probably having heard him shuffle around. It’s such a foreign expression on his nephew that Peter finds himself tilting his head to the side inquisitively. Derek lets out a small snort, and reaches out to pat Peter on the head. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you fully shifted.” Even if Peter would want to dignify that with a reply, he wouldn’t be able to, so he just huffs and stretches, before walking out the little nest he’d made for himself and sit down next to Derek, magnanimously ignoring the pat on his head - he could tear at Derek’s throat, of course, but he’s still an Alpha and Peter is rather fond of being alive, most of the time. He’s still sleepy, feeling disoriented and confused about Derek’s presence, since his nephew had made it quite clear that he didn’t really consider Peter his family anymore. They sit in silence for a while, Peter occasionally yawning and Derek cutting at a branch. Peter has tried to see what he was doing, but Derek’s hands were hiding the wood from his sight every time he looked, until Peter rolled his eyes and focused back on a bird which was hopping across the clearing. It must be a stupid bird, Peter thinks, watching the tiny thing skip over the leaves, completely unaware of their dangerous presence. So it’s really its own fault when Peter pounces, a snarl on his lips as he snaps at the bird, which easily flits through his paws and flies off. There’s a chuckle behind him, and when he turns around indignantly, Derek starts laughing. It’s soft, strange on Derek’s lips, but that’s definitely laughter. It flutters through the air and tickles Peter’s ears, and he involuntarily starts wagging his tail. Because Derek is laughing and Peter did that, and it’s almost as if he’s home again.
It’s getting dark again by the time Peter shifts back, a crack in his spine indicating that the wolf is retreating, and it happens so fast that he stumbles forward a couple steps before losing his balance and dropping to the ground. “Fuck.” He mutters, as he gets up again, muscles stiff and slightly painful.
Derek is in front of him in a second, offering him a bundle of clothes Peter gladly accepts. A pair of sweatpants and a shirt, both obviously Derek’s, and Peter almost smiles as he puts them on. It’s comforting and pleasant, having the Alpha’s scent mixed with his own.
“I heard you howl yesterday.” Derek says, when they’ve been awkwardly standing in front of each other for a couple moments. “I answered.”
“I thought I’d imagined it.” Peter replies, because he did, had thought it was just his mind playing tricks on him, punishing him for procrastinating on his mourning. “I’m glad I didn’t.”
Derek gives him a smile, and no matter how small it is, it starts a spark of hope in his chest, that maybe this time he will manage to get on with his life, and not alone. “Come home with me.”
Peter nods.