We walked back to the alleyway together.

He sat down against the wall as casually as someone might sit down on their couch, and handed his coffee over to Delilah, who was silently thrilled.

"I'll see you on the Saturday."

I was tempted to correct him, but I could tell from his shit-eating grin that he was messing with me.

I rolled my eyes, "See you then."

I walked to the building my first class was in and spent the rest of the day going to class and studying.

Tony texted me occasionally throughout the day, apologizing for being weird the night before.

I told him it was alright. I mean he was being jealous, but could I really blame him?

He showed up at my dorm later with candy, and we hung out for a while.

When the second movie of our mini marathon ended I said, "Okay, I have a test tomorrow so I really need to study a bit more before I pass out."

He snorted, closing the laptop that was balanced on his stomach, "Why?"

"Because I'm not smart like you and I need to."

"I'm not smart." He insisted.

It had always floored me how little he seemed to realize that fact. I referred to it as the Tony Effect, where someone is literally so smart they don't even know it.

He finally concedes and I kick him out, spending most of the night studying in a low light so that I wouldn't disturb Miriam.

The next few days I focused on school and band practice. Lorne gave up on the tough paternal thing after he saw Tony accompany me to a practice. I still went every morning to give money to Delilah and all the others, which I told Lorne and he accepted it on the grounds that Tony seemed okay with it.

Tony decided that it wasn't worth it to be that jealous of a random homeless man. So we all just sort of went about our merry business.

By the time Saturday rolled around I could barely sleep. There was just too much excitement cording through me. I liked going home and seeing my family, and this time, I would get to be with Peter.

I drove my car into town early that morning and tapped on my horn when I pulled up to the alleyway. He was already awake and out of the sewer.

Hopping into the car, he immediately rolled down the window as a courtesy to me. His shower at Lorne's had worn off a long time ago.

He went through a fast food drive through and I was shocked that he knew what he wanted.

I was even more surprised when we got to the window and he practically threw himself over me to wave at the employee.

"Hey, Ashley!" He beamed.

"Peter!" She seemed just as happy to see him, "How's things?"

"Not too bad, I think the weather's getting better."

"That's good, so. You'll be able to break out your spring ensembles soon."

They both laughed and then he waved goodbye as I paid for the food and pulled away.

"Making friends?"

"Yeah," he shoved a breakfast sandwich in his mouth and fought to speak through it, "The city is great, there are so many people to talk to here."

I laugh, "So that's how you got all the way here."

"Pretty much."

I turn on the music and flip to something I know he knows. As if on cue he begins singing along and I join in.

The whole trip is about 3 hours, and about half way there our singing finally tapers off and we just listened to the music play softly.

"So," I cut in, "That night when we went to save the boys, I was just wondering, how you did that thing?"

I waved a hand around my face to try and add some more definition to my vague question.

"Oh, right, that," he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, "I didn't really do it per say. I just let it happen."

I glanced at him questioningly.

"I'm always fighting it. It never goes away, but it can only come out if I give into it. That's why it only used to happen while I slept, but anymore all it takes is me losing control for just a second. I just picked an opportune time."

"That sounds terrible."

"Yeah, I guess. The closest thing I can relate it to is when you're really nauseous and you feel like you're holding yourself back from puking. It's that feeling, just all the time."

"Okay, that really sounds terrible."

"There are worse things."

We didn't say much for the rest of the ride. There wasn't much to say after that.

We pulled up to the house a while later. No one was home, which didn't surprise me. Cam was probably at dad's and mom always had something to go to.

We got out and I tried to hide my smile as he swung his head around and insisted that all the houses were just the same building over and over.

We had to take off our shoes inside, which confused Peter, but he complied.

"My room is upstairs," I told him, and then laughed as he bolted up the carpeted stairs, nearly knocking down a framed portrait of Cameron and me.

He opened the first door and said, "It's so small."

I walked up the stairs and passed by him, "That's a coat closet."

"Oh," he said, closing the door and following me.

I walk into my room, flipping on the light to reveal my partially uninhabitable room. The bed was full of summer clothes and the rest of my things were half in and out of moving boxes.

I would have felt more embarrassed if it were anybody else here with me.

"Your stuff is in here," I said, opening my closet door and flipping on the light.

It was a big closet, mostly stuffed with all the things I avoided dealing with.

Peter's stuff was in a group of unmarked boxes underneath a set of shelves.

"That's it." I pointed, not wanting to get near them.

He happily ran over to them and got to his knees, tearing them open. It was adorable, like watching a kid on Christmas morning.

I stood there as he pulled out clothes and books, little pieces of our past together. He would take something out and twist around to show me.

I wanted more than anything to sit down next to him. But I was afraid to get too close.

I wasn't that person anymore.

"Do you remember this?" He went to get up but smacked his head on the bottom of my shelf.

He stopped, rubbing the back of his head.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

But instead of answering, he just growled.