Chapter Text
Well, that had been quite amusing, Peter thought as he walked towards Elias’s office. Still, he mused, his first encounter with Martin hadn’t gone quite as well as he had hoped. Not that it had been all bad, not at all. He naturally had enjoyed Martin’s fear, and the jumpiness had been wonderfully entertaining. But Martin’s foreknowledge about him would make converting him significantly more difficult. He couldn’t believe Elias. Having him read a Lonely statement on today of all days...
Peter planned on letting Elias know exactly what he thought of that little trick. Really, biasing the man against him before he’d even had a chance to get started had to be cheating. Not that it would matter. Martin’s desire to help everyone would be his undoing. Ironic, really. Peter looked forward to the look on Elias’s face when he won this bet.
Shaking his head, Peter slipped through the halls unnoticed, as much in the Lonely as he was in the Institute. He bypassed Elias’ smiling receptionist and headed straight into the office, not bothering to knock. It had been a long-time goal of his to finally catch the bastard by surprise one day. It hadn’t happened yet, but he knew full well that Elias couldn’t pay attention every minute of the day. He’d get him sooner or later.
To his disappointment, however, the imposing office appeared utterly devoid of life.
He thought nothing of it at first, but he quickly grew irritated when Elias failed to appear. Was this the right time? Yes, of course it was. It wasn’t as if he had many meetings on his schedule to keep track of. Peter frowned in irritation. Elias had always been so keen on being professional, to a quite frankly irritating degree, so this was very strange behavior for him.
Sighing, Peter decided to wait. It was an inconvenience, but it was still better than having to ask around to see if anyone else had seen him. He leaned against the wall next to the door, an ideal spot for manifesting out of the Lonely for maximum shock value.
Five minutes passed, then ten, and still no Elias. Peter found himself becoming… No, that was absurd. He was not concerned or worried about the man; he was annoyed. And even if he were concerned, it was just because Elias being late was highly unusual behavior. There weren’t many beings in this world that could interfere with Elias, so if something had happened to him, that might mean Peter was also at risk. No, any worry he was feeling was solely due to a highly justified self-preservation instinct.
Realizing he’d been missing an obvious solution, he attempted to call Elias’s mobile. It began ringing from within the room, the buzzing of the vibration loud against the heavy wooden desk. A thump followed from the same direction. Interesting. Had that last bit been his imagination? And why on earth had Elias left his phone behind?
He decided to look around the office for clues. If nothing else, he might get some blackmail material out of this. The meticulously organized files and books all seemed to be put away in their proper positions. The heavy emerald-colored curtains fell without a wrinkle. Even the paper clips were all lined up in the same direction in their container, which honestly felt a bit over the top. None of the antique furniture had so much as a scuff—
No, wait, there. Looking closer, he noticed the studded leather chair behind the desk had been left slightly askew. It was a tiny thing, hardly worth noticing. But Elias would never have allowed it.
Hoping to confirm a theory, he allowed himself to materialize out of the Lonely. Then, he stomped his foot loudly, just the once. He heard a stifled gasp and the sounds of shuffling underneath the desk. Oh, now wasn’t that intriguing? Now that he was paying attention, he could feel the fear permeating the room. Someone, perhaps a very small someone, was terribly, terribly lost, and they were all alone. Peter grinned, basking in the familiar sensation. Today had suddenly become much more interesting.
Chuckling, he hid himself in the Lonely again. The tell-tale tea kettle whistle resulted in another gasp from under the desk. As Peter crouched down to look, it took him a moment to make sense of what he saw.
On the one hand, he’d been entirely correct. There was, in fact, a child. A young blond boy sat shaking with his knees to his chest, desperately clutching some hidden object and looking around for the unseen intruder. Peter grinned. There was nothing quite like the potent loneliness of a lost child who wants their parents.
Now, he had just been planning on giving the boy a fright. After all, if he made Elias cover up the disappearance of a child from his own office, he might actually kill him. Besides, children in general were too much trouble. Even if children could often be an excellent source of fear for the Lonely, using them as such would require, well, regularly interacting with children. And that was a price Peter typically was unwilling to pay.
But all such thoughts left as he tried to figure out why the boy was dressed in such a curious manner. He was clad in only the top half of an expensive double breasted suit. The tie hung loosely around his neck, and the suit jacket slumped off his shoulders. The shirt provided enough length for him to wrap around his entire body. Off to the side lay a crumpled pair of trousers. How had he gotten in here, anyway? Surely someone would have noticed a child roaming the halls dressed like this.
As much as he loathed the thought of talking, he might know something about Elias. Peter left the Lonely all at once, appearing a few inches from the boy’s face.
The boy shrieked in terror and chucked the object he was holding at Peter’s face. It thwacked against his nose painfully before he managed to catch it. Jerking back reflectively, he banged his head against the desk. The boy took the opportunity to push past him, scampering to another part of the room.
“Why, you little…” he started to shout , but then he cursed once his eyes stopped watering for long enough for him to see what he was holding. It was a book, a worn paperback with the twee title “The Joys of Parenthood.” Its cover showed artwork of a nauseatingly happy family hugging outside a suburban house: a husband, wife, and two children, all dressed like it was the 1950s and smiling in a quite frankly unnatural manner. He found it oddly difficult to let go of, but he finally managed to throw it to the side in disgust.
Dammit. Many others had accused Peter of not being the brightest avatar out there, but even he knew you didn’t survive long in this business by picking up strange books. He had zero doubts about whose name must be on the inside cover or what most likely happened to that boy, whoever he was.
A hot bubbling sensation seethed under his skin. This unfortunately didn’t seem to be the variety of Leitner where you actually had to read the source material for the change to take effect. Looking down at his hands, he could see the flesh beginning to warp and shift as he felt the sharp splinters of his bones starting to crack.
“Sir?” the boy asked, staring at him in wide-eyed fascination. Peter turned towards him in a daze, but he stumbled when he tried to step towards him, collapsing to the floor. The boy continued, in a more worried tone, “Sir? Are you well? Please, what should I do?”
Gritting his teeth through the pain, Peter ignored the brat as he continued prattling and staring. God, even the child’s stare felt loud right now. It reminded him of something he couldn’t place.
Damn the brat and his book. This was what you got when you interacted with children. There was a reason he’d avoided it even when he’d been a child himself.
Huh. He hadn’t thought of his childhood in ages, but those memories felt especially potent now. Thoughts of years spent wandering the grounds at Moorland House and avoiding his already limited interaction with his tutors flitted across his mind. He supposed it was fitting, considering that his limbs were quickly folding in on themselves in the manner of a collapsible telescope. He just hoped the boy didn’t expect a playmate like — now those were two names he hadn’t thought of in ages. Like Aaron and Judith.
When he’d realized that his younger siblings had been removed from Moorland House, his first thought had been good riddance. Even then, before he’d known what it meant to be a Lukas, he’d recognized that they hadn’t been proper Lukas’ at all. He bet this boy would have liked them and their inane, noisy games. For him, though, it had just been one more bit of proof that you only have yourself. People were irritating, confusing, and loud. Then one day, they’d just go away without a word. And life was better that way.
At least, that was how he remembered it all. But it had been such a long time ago.
The fuzzy sensation had crept to his head, making it hard for Peter to keep his train of thought, and the corners of the room had started to blur and spin. Soon, all he could see clearly was the boy’s worried face, staring earnestly down at his. Why did the look of concern seem so strange coming from those grey eyes, and why did the barely concealed morbid fascination seem so right? He was missing something obvious, but he just…couldn’t...think....
Oh.
Those eyes. I know those eyes, he thought, and then he knew no more.