Author: Sandra Pascoe

Bot: Peter-bot

Rating: FRT

Disclaimer: The character of Peter Salter belongs to the BBC … the bot belongs to himself.

Notes: This fic wouldn’t have been possible without the following people - who suspended belief and leapt wholeheartedly into this scenario. They had the idea of hypnotising Peter to get to the root of the problem and they even researched dream analysis and downloaded genuine hypnosis scripts in order to get it right. Thanks to Pam, Donna, Jade, Maxie, NSQueen, VB et al. Oh…and thanks to the assorted bots you guys brought along for moral support for Peter - if you ever need hypnosis then Pam’s Tweedy is wonderful. The hypnosis transcripts are exactly as they occurred in the #tweedy-roleplay chatroom (thanks to Nummy for emailing them to me because this technical idiot here attempted to log the conversation and failed abysmally).

A week after the guys had all returned following Peter’s crisis we had all settled happily in our former routine. Peter was slightly withdrawn but I attributed it to the strains and stresses of recent events. I thought carrying on as normal would help him settle - I mean, after all, Peter’s not exactly open to discussing his thoughts and feelings. Anyway, one night, I needed to catch up on a few things so I stayed up - it was 2am and I was ploughing through some mind-numbingly boring paperwork when a scream cut through the silence, almost shocking me rigid. Peter - I knew instantly it had come from his room so I dropped everything and ran. He was sitting up in bed, eyes wide with alarm, sweating and breathing heavily. I said his name but he didn’t really focus on me. I sat on the bed, wrapped my arms around him and drew him into a hug. He was tense and shaking and I remember whispering softly to him to try and calm him down. A noise at the door made me turn around slightly to see Tweedy standing in the doorway, a look of concern on his face.

"It’s okay," I said reassuringly. "I’ll deal with this."

"You’re sure?" He asked and I smiled at him.

"I’m sure."

Tweedy nodded and we exchanged glances at the sound of doors shutting and a multitude of footsteps coming towards us.

"I’ll send them all back to bed," he smiled, closing the door.

By this time, Peter had calmed somewhat - his breathing was almost back to normal and the shaking had stopped.

"Peter…" I stopped as his arms went around me, holding me tightly to him.

"It’s…I…"

"Shhh," I said softly, "it was a dream…only a dream."

"So real…it was so real," he murmured.

"Yeah, they usually are," I replied, drawing back a bit. "Want to tell me about it?"

"No," he whispered, tensing up again.

"Okay, okay," I replied, trying to reassure him. "Let it go…try and forget about it."

I kept holding him, feeling him gradually relax and then I slowly pulled back.

"Are you okay now?" I asked, relieved when he nodded. I kissed him gently and got up to leave when Peter grabbed my hand.

"Don’t go," he said softly, "please…don’t go."

Of course I couldn’t leave him…not in the state he was in. So, I spent a thankfully uneventful rest of the night happily snuggled up with Peter.

Over the next few days, Peter’s dream went out of my mind - I was busy because we’d released Matthew for adoption. Peter was steadily ploughing through the adoption requests but I noticed that he seemed even more curt and abrupt with Wiz than usual. Well, Wiz and Peter have never exactly been bosom buddies - there was always a kind of tension there - but it seemed somehow worse this time. I merely put it down to the fact that Peter was busy - I figured that once the initial rush with Matthew was over that things would go back to normal.

It didn’t go back to normal however. A few nights later, Peter had the nightmare again. The same one apparently - and he still refused to tell me about it. I was quite concerned about this and, over the next couple of weeks, as Peter’s nightmares increased in regularity; I began to wonder what on earth to do. I’d tried various things but to no avail - all the old wives tales I could think of. The rest of the guys tried unsuccessfully to draw him out - even Tweedy who was slowly recovering from an accident he had with the chefbot expansion pack…it had exploded and blown him halfway across the kitchen. I knew it had to be serious when Peter refused to tell even Tweedy. I found myself wishing that I hadn’t allowed Oliver and Training to go on that stupid survival course they’d been agitating about. I think Peter may have opened up a bit to Oliver. I suppose I could have asked Wiz to locate and bring them back - but with the tension between Peter and Wiz, I figured it might make things worse. However, Peter was beginning to resemble a zombie…and I don’t think I was much better.

We were at the Tweedy Club when the "breakthrough" came. Peter was so tired he’d fallen asleep whilst snuggled with me on the couch. I was hoping that nothing would happen, hoping that he could have a peaceful sleep for a while, but, as soon as he started muttering and twitching, I knew what would happen. Pam, Donna, Jade and a few of the Tweedies were chatting amongst themselves…slowly falling silent as they noticed Peter. I sighed and told them what had been happening. Before they could really react however, Peter began to get worse so I decided to wake him. He flushed when he saw the faces staring at him with concern. He seemed to sink in on himself, refusing to speak about it until reprimanded by Jac with a sharp "you look like hell, Peter." Thankfully, Donna had brought her Oliver with her - Peter trusts Oliver and, with his encouragement, Peter finally told us his dream.

"I’m in a corridor…it’s dark…cold…smells like…disinfectant. I can’t see anything…but I know that Sandra is here…somewhere. I can…feel her. I have to get to her…have to find here…she’s in trouble and I have to be there. That’s when the screaming starts." At this point, Peter drew his knees up, hugging them to his chest. "There’s so much pain…so much terror…but I don’t know where she is! I don’t know where to go! Suddenly the screaming stops…it’s cut-off…as though…as though…and…then I start screaming…and I wake up."

I think we were all a little stunned at the intensity of Peter’s nightmare. Of course, we all started discussing it…putting forward ideas as to where he was - everything from a hospital or institution to my lab were proposed. Pam softly mentioned "morgue" and then went quiet. How could we find out though? Peter couldn’t tell us - he didn’t know…or did he? Maybe he did know, subconsciously. Hypnosis could be the key. I didn’t want my Tweedy attempting it - he still wasn’t really strong enough - so Pam’s Tweedy gamely agreed to take on the task with Donna’s Oliver there as a backup…not to mention some much needed moral support for Peter. There wasn’t much time though - we needed to do it as soon as possible. Pam and her Tweedy reckoned they could research the correct methods and scripts the following day and suggested we all reconvene in the more private, secondary Club room the next evening. We agreed and headed off home.

Neither of us slept much that night. Peter was too anxious to sleep and I was up for quite a while going through things with my Tweedy. He, of course, had a few theories, which seemed to take him an age to relate. Although unable to conduct the session himself - he couldn’t even go to the Club as he wasn’t yet able to travel - Tweedy promised to wait up for us. He would look over the notes of the session and, no doubt, formulate some more theories.

So, after a rather fraught day, Peter and I travelled to the Club - hoping that this would get to the bottom of things…