This story is for Dora, who asked cute.

Pete stepped off the boat, and was promptly engulfed in a slender tornado of blonde hair and teary blue eyes. Anyone (and that's ANYONE, including God himself) else would have been shrugged off with a shrug and a rather bitter quip. But because this was Meggan he folded his arms around her and hugged her a bit awkwardly. "There now, luv, it'll be all right."

Meggan sniffled into his shoulder. "Oh, P-Pete¡¦we're so worried about her. She won't eat, she won't drink, she just lies there and stares¡¦

"I know, Meg, you told me on the phone, remember?" He hugged her once more and detached himself gently, leaving one arm around her shoulders. "And I dunno what you think I can do about it, but I promised to help and so I will, right? Now you just fly me up there so me tired old bones don't get all worn out 'fore I'm even in the front door."

That got a watery giggle out of her, even as they lifted off the ground and drifted up the hill towards the bulk of the Muir Island Research Centre. "Oh, Pete, don't be silly. Your bones aren't the slightest bit old and tired."

"Yeah, well¡¦ He managed to dredge up a lecherous grin from somewhere, even though his heart wasn't in it. "The line got me all cuddled up to a pretty blonde, didn't it?"

She smiled, and hugged him to show him that she appreciated the effort. "Oh, hush. I'm a married woman now," she mock-chided him as they landed lightly on the doorstep.

Brian Braddock, waiting by the door, scowled a little. "That's right." Then he saw the eyepatch, and flinched a little.

"Guessin' it wasn't your idea to call me, then." Pete shrugged, ignoring the flickering glance at the place where his eye had been. He missed that eye. It'd been one of a unique matched set. "So, you gonna let me in, or are we all planning to freeze out here together?"

Brian opened the door silently. In the spirit of one who's found himself the target for every single bodily function Fate can think of, Pete decided he was entitled to leave that arm around Meg's shoulders for a bit longer. Poor little thing probably needed a bit of a cuddle anyway, being as Brian wasn't the demonstrative sort. Neither was Pete, usually, but it was different with Meggan. "So, where is she, then?"

"In her bedroom," Meggan said softly. "We¡¦we thought that was best."

"Probably," Pete agreed. "Wanna show me where it is? I seem to've forgotten." He smirked at Brian. "Been knocked about a lot, I 'ave¡¦ His voice trailed off in a blatant sigh of self-pity.

Meggan giggled, and Brian glared after them as the oddly matched pair headed up the stairs.

When they got there, and Meggan had tactfully faded away to 'get you something hot to drink, you look dreadfully tired', Pete slowly eased the door open and slipped inside. <*Christ, she looks so bloody small,*> he thought, heart constricting suddenly. <*So helpless¡¦where'd the fire go?*> Porcelain skin stood out against the dark blue sheets and blankets, and reddish brown hair spread across the pillow in a careless tangle. She lay on her side, curled a little into herself. She looked asleep, but he knew faked-napping when he saw it. Every muscle she still had was tensed. Best to start as he meant to go on, then. "Christ, you look awful. Worse than usual, even."

Once-sharp blue eyes snapped open, and she looked at him. "Thought I'd got rid of ye, ye chain-smoking sassenach."

"Bad-Penny Wisdom, that's me," he said cheerfully. He sat down on the end of the bed without waiting for an invitation. "Shove over. Me feet 'urt."

"Get off my bed," Moira said, without rancour. She didn't seem to have her heart in it anymore. "What happened to yuir eye, then?"

"Lost it," he said, with a perfectly straight face. "You know 'ow it is, you wake up the morning after a few drinks and you've lost 'alf of bloody everything you had on yer when you went out."

She chuckled a bit raspily, then she seemed to dim. "Right, then," she said, without much interest.

Pete sighed. So much for cheering her up. "Meggan called me. Cryin' her bleedin' eyes out, she was."

"I told her not to call anyone," Moira said listlessly.

"I'm not anyone," Pete said calmly. There was a cooling bowl of soup on a table by the bed, and he jerked his chin at it. "She said yer not eating."

Moira shrugged a little. "I don't feel like it."

"Given up, 'ave we?" Pete said sarcastically. "Is the nasty old virus too much for us? Just gonna curl up and starve ourselves, are we, because we're too bloody chicken to put up a fight anymore?" She opened her mouth, eyes snapping with a semblance of their old fire, but he just talked right over the top of her. "And they can't stop you, because they all bloody love you f'r some reason and if they try and force you t' eat then you just cry at them or go all still and they can't cope, right? So you get yer way, and you keep starving to death a bit at a time. And that's why Meg called me, and why she was right to call me, not anyone else. 'Cause I don't love yer a bit, McTaggert." He leaned down, until his face was only inches away from hers, and spoke with deep, heartfelt sincerity. "I don't even LIKE you. So eat that bloody soup or I swear I'll hold you down and pour it down yer stubborn throat."

She blinked. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," he said flatly.

She looked at the soup. "It's cold," she objected weakly.

Pete reached over and inserted a hotknife into the murky fluid. "It's hot now. So are you gonna eat it or do I spoonfeed yer?"

* * *

Pete rubbed his hands over his face. It'd been nearly two full days since Meggan had first called him, and he hadn't slept yet. "So yer sayin' it's bad, then."

Hank McCoy nodded. He looked as tired as Pete did. "Moira's condition has worsened badly. Unless a cure is discovered soon, she will die." Then he smiled. "Getting her to eat is a great help, however. How did you manage it?"

Pete shrugged. "Told her that if she didn't I'd hold her down and tip it down her throat anyway." He yawned, and rubbed his eyes again. "I'm dead on me feet, though. I'll bully her into eatin' again in the morning. For now I need some sleep."

"Of course. I apologize," Hank said, rising hastily. "I understand your old room has been prepared for you."

"Cheers, then." Pete nodded to the blue-furred scientist, and padded off to his room. When he got there, Rahne was hovering around in the hall, trying to look as if she wasn't waiting for him. "'lo."

"Hullo," she said, still hovering nervously. "Doctor McCoy said that¡¦that ye got Mummy tae eat."

"I did." He honestly didn't mean to be short with her, but he was so very, very tired¡¦"Threatened 'er until she bloody did what she was told, the stubborn witch."

Rahne nodded jerkily. "I thought you must have." Her lip quivered. "I know I should have made her eat, but I just couldn't¡¦

He sighed. "Of course you couldn't. 's why Meg called me, 'cause I can." A split-second later, he had an armful of sobbing werewolf getting tears all over his grubby white shirt. Was there a female on this island that didn't need him? he wondered, hugging her awkwardly. "Oh, stop that. You're getting me wet," he complained gently, patting her springy red hair.

Rahne sniffled. "I know, and I'm s-sorry. I've j-just been so t-terribly worried¡¦

He nodded, fishing a practically clean handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping the tears away gently. "O'course you have. She might be a foul-mouthed Scottish harridan, but she *is* yer mum." That got a damp smile, and he smiled back. "Now, you get some sleep, and I'll get some sleep, and tomorrow I'll show yer the finer points of arm-twisting."

She blinked a little, gazing up at him with trusting green eyes. "Arm-twisting?"

He snorted. "You don't think we're gonna get breakfast down 'er by singing sweetly, do you?"

That got a bit of a giggle. "I'll be there." Then she fastened those eyes on him again. "Ye didn't say everything would be all right."

Pete shook his head slightly. "Ain't likely, is it?" he said bleakly. "And I ain't gonna lie to you about it, 'cause we'd both know I was." He touched a cheek that was still childishly rounded. "But we'll do our best, eh?"

Rahne nodded, and gave him another quick hug before pulling away. "Thanks for not lyin'," she said softly. "And¡¦ and thank ye for coming. I know it cannae be easy for ye."

"It ain't," he said simply. "But¡¦well¡¦ it needs doing, right?"

She nodded.

That seemed to say it all.

End