That was just the thing. Peter didn't know where he was. Under the street someplace. There were landmarks, there had to be landmarks.
A building... just came down.
He bit back a sharp bolt of pain. Healing wasn't quite right, but it would have to do for now. The ability would be strengthened and refueled once Claire arrived.
But it was difficult to keep this connection open. The air coming in through the small hole he had made was helping, but his lungs were still burning from not enough oxygen. He'd delayed the next cycle of death, but he hadn't stopped it. Not yet.
Follow... follow this to me. This would be the tricky part. Using all the concentration and will he could muster, Peter gathered his telepathic strength and forged it into a lifeline. Five years of experience with the mental ability had given him time enough to hone it to this level, even if it did take some intense effort.
But when he tried to fish it out to Claire, something strange happened. Peter felt the connection split, moving out to two sources. Two Claires.
Damn it. That was right. There were two of her here, and two of him. That was why her inquiry had echoed so strangely. In this state, he couldn't tell which was his Claire. So the line went to both, weakened by the split, but he couldn't risk not reaching the one who could help him.
He hadn't considered that both might answer the call.
There was also no way to limit what went through the line. They would know the state he was in, know the pains that ached him from the broken and compounded bones. The burning in his lungs. He only hoped that Claire wouldn't feel it as her own.
He needed her to hurry, but he couldn't bring himself to plea. She would know. She had to know.