Ulterior Motives

Difference of Opinions

She was woken the next morning when Peter started stirring. She was still sitting cross legged on the couch, the rag had fallen off Peters head and had soaked her pant leg. Her foot had gone numb. She reached down and dumped the rag into the bowel of water, all the ice had melted, but it was cold.

Oliver was asleep in a chair on the other side of the sofa behind her shoulder. A blanket had been draped over Peter while they slept. Reagan reached over and tossed the blanket over his legs so she could check on the bruise. It was nearly gone. Merely a shadow across his torso. Peter suddenly grabbed her wrist as she reached back up to check his temperature with the back of her hand.

He moved so quickly she didn't have time to react. He had turned on her, her wrist clasped in his hand grinding the bones painfully together while his other hand grabbed her by the throat. She couldn't breathe he was crushing her windpipe so tightly.

Peter glared at her so fiercely she was immediately terrified. He leaned towards her inches from her face as she fought to draw air. He held her like that, unable to move as his anger ebbed out of him in waves, paralyzing her. She was as defenseless as a bird caught in the jaws of a predator. She could feel his essence incase her.

He was powerful, and it only enhanced the feeling of suffocating. She was nothing more than a rabbit following the footsteps of dragons and had finally been caught. His blue eyes were cold as she starred into his face unable to look away. She was fading. She could feel the pressure build and knew she was about to die. Black dots appeared in her vision. She was sinking.

"Peter." Someone shouted. "Peter. NO!"

Her eyes closed but the hand around her neck released her as she sagged against the arm rest. She inhaled deeply, breathing in wonderful air. She only got in half a breath before she began to cough.

"Damn it, Peter. She was trying to help you." Someone's hand held her face up but she was struggling against the dizziness, fighting to breathe. She was week, barely able to keep herself awake. The room was spinning. She felt nauseous.

"Reagan. Breathe, honey. What the fuck was that Peter?" His tone was furious and fearful at the same time.

She opened her eyes barely enough but everything was blurry. There were still spots in her vision. Blinking a few times until Oliver's concerned face came into focus. "Oliver?" She croaked. Her throat was swollen and bruised. His hand stroked her cheek along her jaw as he continued to hold her head up not letting her fall asleep.

"I'm right here." Oliver turned to look at Peter. "You nearly killed her. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I don't know who she is." Peter snarled back at him. "I barely got here before I passed out. Then I wake up to some stranger looming over me after someone tried to kill me. You'd freak out too."

Oliver summoned a glass of water and helped Reagan drink what she could. If she hadn't almost been murdered herself seconds ago she probably would have remembered what Oliver had said and pulled away from him but she was too thirsty at the moment and her brain was fuzzy.

She choked a little at first but after the first few sips she was able to swallow most of it. She felt weak, and rested her head back down once Oliver was sure she wasn't going to pass out.

"What happened to you?" Peter asked he didn't seem worried about Reagan. Actually, he didn't seem concerned about her at all. Oliver threw him a glare and turned back to Reagan.

"I wasn't sure were you would go so I went to Reagan." He tilted her jaw up so he could see the hand shaped bruises forming on her neck. "I was barely conscious but had enough energy to blink. She nursed me back to health and then we came to find you. You're welcome by the way."