Author's Games: History

Task Four: Entries

Spot 2: Sara_R_Stark

At this point, Peter was debating ignoring the hand roughly shaking his shoulder. He knew what it meant and he knew who it was, and he didn't want to deal with either of them. The museum had been crazy busy for the past few weeks, and another mission through time would drive him crazy. He deserved his sleep, and yet it was constantly being stolen from him.

"Come on, Peter," Heiron whispered. "They say it's important."

"I don't care what they say," Peter mumbled, rolling over in his cot so that his face was smashed into his pillow. "Let them leave without me."

"The agent assumed you would say that. He said I should use force."

"You couldn't hurt a fly. I know for a fact you would never-"

He was cut off as Heiron roughly jerked him upwards, flipping him over mid air to rest bridal style in his arms. Peter gasped in annoyance and pounded at Heiron's arms, though the Greek was too strong.

"Put me down, you oaf," he grumbled. "I don't want to go back. Let them solve their own problems."

"That is not an option," Heiron responded, his eyebrows furrowed at the anger Peter was displaying. "Please do not be mad."

"I'm not mad," Peter sighed. "I'm just tired."

"We're all tired."

They made it to the conference room without much more struggle from Peter. The dark circles underneath his eyes were enough to prove his lack of sleep lately, and the other instantly noticed. What happened to the soldier who always looked so pristine and perfect in his uniform? They were left with a half-asleep mess who would never admit to nodding off once or twice in Heiron's arms.

"Thanks, gentlemen, for joining us this morning," the agent said, forcing a smile. "This mission has much less urgency, as I assume you all require a break. I will send out another group on a more pressing matter, and I hope they can solve it with as much efficiency as you." Peter nodded from his chair, accepting the compliment, though it was clear he still despised this agent with every fiber of his being.

"Where will it be this time?" Eleanor asked.

"It's all in the folder," he said, sliding the manilla envelope towards the center of the table. Peter snatched before anyone else could, ignoring the agent as he began to leaf through its contents. His vision swam, though, and he struggled to remember the content he read. It was a task he gave up on quickly.

"Now, before you all ask, this is Celene," he said, pointing to a new girl at his side. "She's from Italy, and I assumed that with the recent loss of your teammate Freydis, you would need someone to take her place." The feeling in the room instantly shifted, and the air became choking. "Still a sensitive subject, huh? Alright, I won't discuss it. You can all go to the machine when you're ready, I guess."

They all filed out of the room in silence. Bringing up the death of Freydis was not an easy topic for any of them to bear. They had lost three people that day, and two of them were only boys trying help save the maiden stricken with fear. Peter felt especially guilty for her death. She had left the group because of him for reasons that he still could not identify. Anne tried to talk her out of running away, yet she wouldn't disclose to Peter the reasons for it.

"How about we actually take our time today?" Peter suggested. "Let's go pack bags with what we feel like we need. Then it won't be too much of a mad scramble once we arrive."

Everyone nodded and shrugged, regarding Peter as coldly as they did last mission. Peter sighed as he walk back to his wing of the museum. The dynamics of their group had completely changed. In the beginning, they all regarded Peter as their leader. They listened to what he had to say, took part in his plans, and didn't argue when he disagreed with a course of action. Freydis seemed to have flipped their opinions on him. He hated her. He had always held a dislike for her fiery personality, but turning the group against him was not something he could tolerate.