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Pete was sleeping. Well, dozing. He didn't sleep much anymore. The one eye he still had tended to pop open at random intervals nowadays. Paranoia? Of course not. If he wanted to count all the people who were currently after him, he'd have to knock half a dozen of them out so he could use their fingers and toes. He was also dreaming, which wasn't a good thing. Especially since all he dreamed about these days was Kitty. He'd pretty much conquered the random desperate urges to run to her. There were whole days when he only thought about her, oh, three or four dozen times. But at night, when his defenses were down, he lost every inch of the ground he'd gained. Every time he closed his eyes he could feel silky hair coiling around his fingers, taste satiny lips brushing his own, smell the faint, sweet scent of her・/FONT> He sat up, scrubbing at his face with weary, grubby hands. He was tired, he was dirty, and his empty eye-socket ached bitterly as he reached for the one thing that made the endless pain in his head bearable. It was mostly psychological, of course・ he thought it would make him better so it did・but he swallowed the two aspirin anyway. There was something comforting about their unrepentent bitterness, even as they brought relief. Drink? Hah! He'd lost one eye already to being less than fully sober, and he didn't want to repeat the experience. Thus it was that Pete Wisdom, Career Sponge, had dried out and stayed dry. It wasn't fear for his poor, cirrhosed liver, or concern over whatever of his mental faculties remained intact. It was sheer, primal fear for whatever soft and vulnerable round thing he might lose next. The pain eased slowly, and he dragged himself out of bed. He should shower, he should shave, and he wouldn't do either, but breakfast was also on the 'should' list, and had the highest potential to actually happen. Mm・food. And, thinking of food, he really had to stop forgetting to eat. His stomach was well beyond patience, a fair way past nagging, and approaching 'you'll be hearing from my lawyer if you don't get some grub down here, sunshine'. Oh, and his phone was ringing. That was odd. He couldn't think of anyone who had his current hotel number. Knowing that picking up was an act of supreme foolishness, not to mention suicidal chutzpah, he grunted and picked up. He was Wisdom. Stupid was practically his middle name. "H'lo?" "P-Pete?" a female voice quavered. A *familiar* female voice. "Pete, i-is that you?" He nearly lost his grip on the phone. How the hell had she found him, what on earth did she want, and *why* did she sound like she was crying? Hadn't she gotten everything she wanted? "Yeah・yeah, it's me, luv. Are you okay? What's wrong?" She burst into tears. "Oh Pete・I don't know w-what to do! I know I sh-shouldn't have c-called but I d-didn't know who e-else to g-go to." She sniffled. "I'm so f-frightened!" His heart twisted at the forlorn, pitiful note in her voice. "It's okay, luv, it's gonna be just fine," he soothed as gently as he could. "I'll come right away, all right? You still at th' manor or whatever it's called?" "Y-yes・ The sweet, despairing voice was touched ever so lightly with hope. "Oh, P-Pete, will you really c-come now? We n-need your help." "I promise," he swore fiercely. "Anytime you need me, anytime at all, and all you have to do is call me, all right?" "A-All right," she agreed, tears fading to sniffles. "I knew if I c-called you that you'd help. You've always been such a g-good friend・ "Yeah, well, not as good as yer deserve." He smiled, a real, honest smile, the first in a long time. "I'll be there in a few hours, okay?" "Okay." "I'll do whatever needs doing," he promised, voice softer than it'd been in ages. "It's going to be all right, Meggan." Meggan sighed shakily, and he could hear the answering smile in her voice. "I know it will, now." The End ((What? You think she doesn't miss him?
Wouldn't call him if she needed him? Well, you're wrong. Pete had more
friends on that team than he's given credit for, methinks.
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