In a Voice Like a Prayer (Peter, Casual)

[LING LING DONGFENG]

She was walking, and the clarity wasn't there. And that was wrong.

She wanted clarity, because she needed to clear her mind and everything seemed so strange today, not because of anything specific, not really, except she went to a cinema for the first in ages and there were lights and loud noises and it wasn't anything like the movies she thought of so fondly. This was too loud, too much action. She had wanted them to pay attention to the story, the actors.

And so, being the creative girl she was, she thought of different ending and situations for the movie, that would make it better, and she was having so much fun doing it that before she knew it, it was late, and that scared her.

Because if she couldn't keep track of the time, what if she couldn't keep track of what was real, too?

It was an unreasonable fear and she knew it. She wasn't a schizo, no, no, she wasn't, she repeated to herself, but learning through repetition had never been one of her methods. She was at the park, and wandering wasn't helping at all, not even standing on the bridge and watching the water like she usually did, and so, feeling the sudden need to hide, hide away from anything or everything or something, anything, she ran. And ended up in front of the playset, meant for children.

She didn't care it was meant for children. There weren't any children around right now, after all, right? They were all asleep, seeing as it was two in the morning. There was an almost-full moon, and for some reason it made her sad, because it wasn't all the way full; there was still some missing. Perhaps she was a little crazy.

She sat on the swing, and though she didn't go high, she moved her body back and forth until she had a steady, slow rhythm of back and forth going, just enough to make things move smoother than they would if she walked back and forth the same way. Her feet brushed the wood chips that littered the ground on the enclosed area, and the flats that she was wearing slipped off so that the wood scratched the bottom of her feet. It was real, and she liked that it was real.

The metal of the swing made squeaking sounds, higher when she went forward, and lower but still high-pitched when she went back. Sounds were real too. Pain and sounds and taste; she tasted blood on her lips from where she bit it through a little while running. A breezy wind made minimal but comforting sound as well. And it was good, or at least, better than she thought it was.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

It was two AM. Normal people would be at home sleeping, but he’d never thought of himself as normal. Normally, in his realm of normal, he would be sleeping by this point. However, the past three or four nights had been less than satisfying in the sleep department. He had a lot on his mind.

He figured if he wasn’t sleeping, he might as well use the time to his advantage. That was how he’d ended up in Manhattan, Baze tugging at his leash, rearing to go, no matter what time of day it was. Central park at night was the best time to take him. Letting him off leash to run always managed to bring his energy level down, and if his energy level was down, the dog would let him be awake with everything on his mind without bugging him. So he crouched down and unclipped his leash, letting the dog go. Baze barked happily, running around like he owned the park.

The whole act of the playful puppy made him grin. The dog was eight years old and he could still put the younger dogs to shame. Peter strolled along, letting the dog pick the direction. As always, he wasn’t worried. If anyone came across the dog, they’d run in the opposite direction. And if anyone came across him, well, Baze owed him enough to come and save him from whatever. However, the worst they’d ever run into was a couple squirrels, some quiet walkers, and Ling Ling. That had been out of the norm, but she was by no way threatening to him. Just another wandering soul tying to make sense of life.

Making sense of life...that was a laugh. There was no making sense of anything. Life happened and you went with it because there was nothing else that you could do. People lived, people died...and kids were shot before they even had a chance to.

Baze came running back, stick in mouth, body vibrating with excitement. He dropped the stick on Peter’s foot, bringing his attention back where it should have been. He picked it up and hefted it forward, watching as the dog took off like a shot after it. He still had a good left arm when it came to throwing things, so it took the dog a minute to bring it back. Again, it was dropped on his foot. This time, he threw it towards where the path branched, missing the path and hearing the stick hit the brush. Baze trotted right in after it. Peter kept walking, waiting for the dog. When it was more than a minute, Peter frowned.

“Baze!” He called, letting a sharp whistle follow.

He heard barking, following the path until he could see a flash of white. He was not in the mood to play hide and seek.

“Bazin!” Peter snapped, finally seeing the dog near an offshoot playground.

Baze turned at the tone in his voice. Generally, Peter liked to think he was a nice guy, but he was still the master, and Baze was the dog. He knew better than to not come when he was called, and Peter was within his rights to use that tone. Baze finally met him part way, belly close to the ground in supplication. Peter crossed his arms over his chest, making the dog sweat. He knew better.

After a pitiful whine from the dog, Peter knelt down so they were on the same level, cupping the dog’s cheeks so he could look him in the eye. “Now, what were you doing, mutt?”

Baze carefully got to his feet, rubbing his side along Peter’s bent knees, earning a scratch behind the ears before he started trotting towards the playground. Peter glanced up, catching sight of someone on the swings. He paused for a moment, squinting in the poor light before he recognized the person. No wonder Baze hadn't listened.

“Ling Ling?” he asked, coming closer so he could see her better. "You sure get around this park."

[LING LING DONGFENG]

She was pleasantly startled when a dog was suddenly in front of her, panting and nudging her hand excitedly. She blinked out of her much too consuming anxieties, and stared down at the dog. Her eyes, now well adjusted to the darkness, recognised the dog. She couldn't remember quite where from, but she knew he was friendly.

"Hey boy," she said softly, scratching behind the dog's ears absently. She didn't really care whose dog it was; she was just glad for the company.

“Baze!” Both Ling Ling and the dog turned their heads towards the direction if the shout, followed by a sharp whistle. Ah, no she remembered. Baze, the dog she'd met on the bridge at midnight a while back. What was the man's name again? Ah yes, Peter. He was nice. Fate was funny; she'd not thought she'd ever see him again. Then again, the number of people who took midnight walks in central park was a rather selective group.

“Bazin!” She heard Peter yell again, and now he was close enough that Ling Ling could make out his outline in the shadowy darkness, lighted by the evenly spaced street lamps.

"Go on, puppy," she said softly, stopping her petting him and pushing him gently away. The dog whined, but followed Peter's voice back to his owner.

She watched as Peter said something to the dog, before noticing her and coming closer. Ah, people. Good. Real people. Oh god! Suddenly, a terrifying thought rushed through her head. Was Peter even real? No, she felt Baze, but her mother… god, her mother had felt them too. “Ling Ling? You sure get around this park," she heard Peter say as she approached her. But there was no one else around, of course there wasn't, so she couldn't ask if he was really there…

"Hello," she managed to say, and she felt paralysed, gasping for breathes above water, and no, Peter was real, but what if she was just saying that and these thoughts were just irrational! She gulped, slid off the swing gracelessly. "I-" she swallowed again, "How are you?" She forced out, her words sounding weak even to herself.

[DETECTIVE PETER ARAMIS]

"Hello. I – How are you?"

Peter paused at how hesitant she sounded. This was nothing like the girl that he had met last time who had been more amused by the dog jumping at her, and happy enough to converse with him on the bridge. Peter frowned a bit, wondering if something was going on with her. Maybe his own perceptions were just off. After all, he hadn’t really slept in what felt like forever.

“I’m doing alright,” he replied with a shrug. “Taking another one of my walks so I won’t have to think.”

He chuckled a little, but it was flat to his own ears. He walked closer, flopping down into the other swing. He rocked a bit on his heels, feeling the swing going back and forth a bit. If he put some effort into it, he would be able to get pretty high. He looped his arms around the chains, watching as Baze snuffled around nearby.

“You know, I was a kid the last time I bothered to swing.” He smiled a bit at her. “I and my sister used to see who could go the highest. She always won because I couldn’t stand the thought of flipping over the bar.”

Angelique was a daredevil in ways Peter hadn’t been. He had tried, hoping to fit in with the other boys, but the car accident had ended that. His sister still went sky diving, drank with the girls, and had a blind date every other week. He could face bullets, but dating?

“Swing with me?” he offered, gesturing at the empty swing.

Maybe if they swung for a while, she’d relax a bit and tell him what was bothering her. He always had time to listen.