Mm, mm, mm. Oh, Emily. Tryin' to resist the temptation? Trying not to break Peter's heart? Well, what about yours? Don't you deserve to be happy? Of course you do. Yessssssssss. That's exactly right. You're gonna spend as much time with Edmund as you can. You're gonna see a whole 'nother side of Peter, an ugly side you never knew existed. A side that reminds you of your dad. A side that's turning you into what you swore you'd never be.

Peter and I were sitting at his kitchen table. He was nursing a horrendous hangover, and I was trying to do my maths homework. I struggled greatly with math. Before, I would've asked Peter to help me. He always had before, but I didn't want to bother him, nor did I want to provoke his temper with my inability to grasp the subject. I let out a small sigh as I worked at a particularly difficult problem, causing Peter to look up at me.

"Em, can you keep it down?" he asked snappishly, massaging his temples.

"Of course. Sorry, Pete," I murmured, not looking up at him. "Could I get you something, Peter? Some aspirin? A cup of coffee?" I made sure I spoke in low, soft tones. I'd experienced enough of my dad's... No. I was not going to compare Peter to my father. Peter loved me. At least, I thought he did.

"Some coffee would great, thanks," Peter replied, his head resting on his folded arms. I got up and poured him a cup of hot coffee from the pot on the stove.

"Here you are. Careful, it's hot. You might want to let it cool a bit," I said, setting the cup down in front of him and returning to my assignment. So how do I spend a rainy Saturday afternoon? Oh, struggling through my homework at my boyfriend's house while he grumps because he was up all night drinking. I frowned, not able to grasp the problem. Peter took a big swallow of his coffee. I'd warned him that it was hot. I had told him that he might want to let it cool. Even so, it was my fault that Peter scalded his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

"DAMMIT EMILY! WHAT'RE YOU TRYING TO DO, BURN MY INSIDES?!" Peter roared, standing up and towering over me.

"I-I'm sorry, Pete," I said, cowering in my chair.

"Why the bloody hell were you so thoughtless?!" Peter said, still standing over me. I was honestly afraid of what he'd do.

"Hey, what's up? I heard shouting," Edmund said, poking his head into the kitchen.

"Hey, Ed," I said quietly, looking down at my hands in my lap, my back to him. I couldn't look at him.

Peter glared at Ed. "It's nothing," he said. He clearly meant 'sod off and mind your own business.' I'd been around that sort of thing enough to know the difference between dismissal and hostility. I couldn't see him, but, from the way Peter's scowl deepened, I could imagine the look on Edmund's face as he took in the scene before him. I bristled when he sat down next to me. Peter huffed and stalked out of the room.

Finally, I turned to look at Edmund. "So, what're you having trouble with, Em?" he questioned gently.

His question startled me so. "W-what?" I replied dumbly, still shaken from the sight of Peter like... like that.

"Your maths homework," he said nodding toward my book. "What problems are you having trouble with?"

I looked at him gratefully. He didn't say anything about Peter. Just like the old days, when he didn't say anything about Dad, even though it was obvious. I slid my book so that it was sitting between us, and I pointed out the problem I'd gotten stuck on. Edmund nodded, and he patiently explained it to me, watching as I worked it out several times before getting it right. That was something I'd never noticed, that Edmund was so patient. It was rather nice, sitting with him there, as his friend, with him helping me with my homework. Even more than that, it was nice to be able to not have to be so incredibly cautious, watching my every step so that I don't make a wrong one. We finished the assignment eventually, but I didn't want to go home. I stuck my book and my notebook back into my bag. I grabbed the cup that Peter'd left untouched and took it to the sink, dumping out the cold coffee. I sighed. Edmund leaned against the counter next to me.

"Em," he said, trying to catch my eye. I wouldn't look at him.

"Em," he tried again, a bit more insistent this time. Still, I didn't look at him. I swished the cup around the soapy water before rinsing it out.

"Emily Jane Norman!" Edmund said frustratedly as I dried the cup. The difference between Edmund and Peter's frustration is that Peter's frightened me, and Edmund's didn't.

Stretching to put the cup back on the shelf, just out of my reach, I ignored him still. Edmund would want to talk about Peter's behvior, and it was non of his business. More than that, I just didn't want to talk about it. I heard Edmund sigh softly in resignation before he stood behind me, plucked the cup out of my hand, and placed it on the proper shelf. I turned around to face him. "What?" I said petulantly.

Edmund gave me a disapporving frown. "There's no need to get snippy with me," he said, putting his hands on the edge of the counter on either side of me, trapping me there. "Em, you deserve to be treated like a lady. Pter's actions are hardly gentlemanly, and you know it. He's going to end up hurting you. Please," Edmund said, his voice softening as he pleaded with me, "break up with him."

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I looked up at Edmund. "You know I can't do that, Ed. He needs me. He's just going through a rough patch. He hasn't laid a hand on me, I promise." Edmund had been the first person she'd shown the bruises to, before Dad... left.

"Em, do you have any idea what you sound like?" Edmund all but growled.

I couldn't look him in the eyes. Whether this was from shame or the effect Edmund's proximity was having on me, I couldn't say. "My mother," I said, my voice choked with conflicting emotions. "I sound like my mother."