2 o'clock in the morning.
Oct. 28th, 2004 10:49 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
x-pete.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xp_logsSure, maybe he and Scott don't always agree, but they've got more than a few traits in common. Pete, Thursday night, when the house is quiet.
Pete pushed the laptop away, listening the beeps as it shut down, and then, finally, the silence as the fan died away. The data was backed up, cross-referenced, archived and organised. Culley had an ops brief waiting for him when he woke up. The reports were written, and the emails sent. With any luck, there was a least one other Mistra safe house that'd be gone in a week or two. No kids to rescue this time, but no survivors, either.
He glanced at his watch. 2am. A whisky, then bed.
Five minutes later, he was sitting on a bench outside, looking up at the stars.
One out of six. Nate'd been a step or two from falling apart, but Moira'd be there to catch him.
One out of six. None of us were killed. No serious injuries.
One out of six. How long had they been dead? What if he'd dropped everything as soon as Nate knocked on the door?
One out of six. What if he'd decided to risk keeping Culley in America after they took Nate back, instead of assuming the cover'd been blown? Would he have found the place sooner.
One out of six. What if he hadn't been so fucking distracted with the bloody school, and all the chaos here?
One out of six. What if he hadn't taken that bloody holiday?
One out of...
Enough. He raised the glass, took a sip.
"Sorry, kids."
He glanced at his watch. Half two. Maybe he had time to get a couple more things done tonight. Simon had gotten him that intel on the training camp in Malaysia - he ought to at least skim that, see if it was worth trying to get someone to shut them down yet. He had time to do that before bed...
Pete pushed the laptop away, listening the beeps as it shut down, and then, finally, the silence as the fan died away. The data was backed up, cross-referenced, archived and organised. Culley had an ops brief waiting for him when he woke up. The reports were written, and the emails sent. With any luck, there was a least one other Mistra safe house that'd be gone in a week or two. No kids to rescue this time, but no survivors, either.
He glanced at his watch. 2am. A whisky, then bed.
Five minutes later, he was sitting on a bench outside, looking up at the stars.
One out of six. Nate'd been a step or two from falling apart, but Moira'd be there to catch him.
One out of six. None of us were killed. No serious injuries.
One out of six. How long had they been dead? What if he'd dropped everything as soon as Nate knocked on the door?
One out of six. What if he'd decided to risk keeping Culley in America after they took Nate back, instead of assuming the cover'd been blown? Would he have found the place sooner.
One out of six. What if he hadn't been so fucking distracted with the bloody school, and all the chaos here?
One out of six. What if he hadn't taken that bloody holiday?
One out of...
Enough. He raised the glass, took a sip.
"Sorry, kids."
He glanced at his watch. Half two. Maybe he had time to get a couple more things done tonight. Simon had gotten him that intel on the training camp in Malaysia - he ought to at least skim that, see if it was worth trying to get someone to shut them down yet. He had time to do that before bed...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-10-28 07:04 pm (UTC)See, this is why I love Pete. Great stuff, Alasdair.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-29 02:04 am (UTC)Poor Pete...