Chapter 20
"They are so cute together, aren't they?"
Two weeks later.
Sitting at the head of the large conference table in the briefing room Sergeant Greg Parker was desperately trying to gain the attention of his subordinates.
"Okay people, can I have your attention now, please?" He tapped his pen on the table, "We're still a man down, so..."
"Sam, let Cassie go! You're spoiling her!" Jules said exasperatedly, without paying any attention to her boss.
Greg stumbled briefly, giving Jules a reproving look; then he tried to continue, "...so this is still means we're keep working as the additional cover for the other teams and..." He didn't finish again.
"She is always in someone's arms, Jules!" Sam said loudly, ignoring Parker. "Why is it when I pick her up, it's only me who's spoiling her?" He stared at Jules indignantly.
Greg took a deep breath and mentally counted to three. "Sam, stop grumbling and put the kitten down. Jules, stop nagging Sam," he demanded.
Sam sulked but put the kitten down on the floor where it immediately began to play with the red dot from Spike's laser pointer.
"Okay Team One. I'm asking you all to focus now, please!" Parker tried again keen to get the day's business underway. He opened the briefing files in front of him. "Our first task for today..."
"You know, I think she has already gained weight!" Spike suddenly exclaimed happily as if he hadn't heard the Sergeant speak at all.
Greg's hands, resting on the table, slowly curled into fists. He cast his officer a blazing glare that Spike had not noticed, still happily playing with the little cat.
Greg counted to ten.
In search of help he looked at Wordy at the opposite end of the table. In Ed's absence Wordy was acting team leader; and, as such, he was the one who was responsible for team discipline.
Wordy ignored his gaze still watching the kitten hunting the red dot with giant leaps.
"She's getting fatter because the entire unit seems determined to feed her!" Wordy snorted. "Yesterday I found Holleran feeding her tuna from his sandwich!"
And the Commander too? Greg moaned inwardly and felt something close to panic rising up in his chest. He glanced at the calendar. They said they are going discharge Ed on Monday. It means three more days of this madness. What the hell had I been thinking when I let myself to be talked into this? He sighed and looked at his team. Discipline had gone totally to pieces. "Guys, I really need your attention here!" He tried to raise his voice, fighting back the urge to get the megaphone out of the gear cage.
"Tuna?" Jules exclaimed indignantly. "She's on a recovery diet! She's supposed to be fed strictly according to schedule and only special food! I'll go talk to Holleran and explain to him that..." She was already on her feet as if intending to head straight to the Commander.
"Jules, please, sit down! Team One!" Greg looked sternly at everybody and slapped his palm flat on the table. His subordinates didn't look all that intimidated, but they shut up.
It didn't last.
"She is going to get an upset stomach from over-eating," Lou said.
Greg closed his eyes and slouched back in his chair. Screw it all. When this shift is over, I'll go to Dr. Luria. I urgently need sick leave to restore my ruined psyche…
"And then we'll have to clean the cat shit off the floor!" Lou's voice predicted gloomily.
Greg opened his eyes and silently reached for the Styrofoam cup of coffee that Winnie had ordered for him before the briefing. He took a long sip and rubbed at an annoying ache at the back of his neck. Yes, definitely sick leave. Or vacation … a loooong vacation ... somewhere far, far from here.
From the corner of his eye he suddenly noticed the red dot moving on the black fabric of his pants. He looked sternly at Spike, but before he could say anything, ten pairs of small sharp fishing hooks dug into his leg.
"Damn!" He cursed, almost spilling coffee on his lap. "Spike!" He shook off the kitten from his pants-leg and pinned his spiky-haired teammate with a stern glare.
"Sorry Boss!" Spike quickly hid the laser pointer.
"I had a cat when I was a kid," Lou continued in an expert tone. "You cannot imagine how much crap one kitten with an upset stomach can produce! Believe me, it's a lot!"
The kitten meowed loudly and plaintively and Jules grabbed it from the floor. "Lou, how could you!" She shot him an icy glare. "She only goes in her litter! She is so clever! Yes, my beautiful? Has bad-mannered Uncle Lou offended you?" she crooned to the little cat she held up to her face, ignoring Sam's aggrieved 'hey!'
Greg just silently listened to them with an expression of utter hopelessness on his face.
"Boss! Order Jules to let Cassie go! She's spoiling her!" Sam exclaimed huffily.
"I am not spoiling her, Sam!" Jules begun to protest, but catching the sergeant's gaze she still lowered the kitten down on the floor, "I just was calming her!" she said and folded her arms with a deeply offended air.
"Jesus, help me..." Greg gave a long groan, leaned his elbows on the table and held his head tight in both hands. "I'm going crazy…"
Suddenly, there were joyful greetings, a familiar deep voice outside, approaching footsteps and the tall lean frame of Ed Lane appeared in the doorway of the briefing room. Leaning on crutches, with a fresh scar on his head, but a very much alive Ed Lane.
"Am I interrupting?" he jokingly tapped on the door frame, expression of mild amusement on his face. "What? No streamers? Balloons? Is this how you've been preparing for my return?" Ed looked around with mock disappointment; then he flashed one of his famous trademark smiles and stepped into the briefing room.
"Ed! They discharged you?" All the team members jumped up from their seats and surrounded their team leader, welcoming him with amazement and joy.
"Eddie!" Greg hugged his friend tightly. "God has heard my prayers!"
"Ed, this is a surprise!" Sam exclaimed, clapping Ed's back.
"Hey buddy! They let you out quick!" Wordy smiled broadly, hugging Ed. "Good to see you well!"
"Oh Ed! Welcome back!" Jules kissed Ed on the cheek, "How is your leg? And your lungs? Still coughing? And your head? No more headaches?" She fired questions at him, looking him up and down carefully.
"No coughing. My head is on the mend. And the leg is on the mend. I'm good, I'm good, thank you, Jules," Ed answered evasively.
"Wait, Ed! Didn't they plan to discharge you next Monday?" Spike asked with genuine wonderment and then his eyes narrowed. "You discharged himself?" He looked at Ed gravely, his hands on hips.
"Spike, give me a break," Ed snorted as he hobbled past him.
"Oh hell, no." Parker moaned and rolled his eyes, "Ed? You escaped from the hospital!"
"Hardly an escape," he snorted and looked pointedly at his crutches.
"Ed!" They surrounded him, almost threateningly.
"Oh, come on, guys! How dumb do you think I am?!" Ed exclaimed, spreading his hands as much as the crutches allowed. "They really let me out. They prescribed antibiotics and rest. I can do that from home. Everything's okay, guys."
He reached his usual place at the table and tried to push one of the chairs closer, awkwardly balancing on crutches. Greg and Spike rushed to him, supporting him by the elbows, intending to help.
"Stop fussing!" Ed pushed away their hands. "I'm not helpless."
They retreated, exchanging meaningful glances.
Ed rested his crutches against the side of the table and settled in, pulling his legs under the table.
"Sweet!" He sat back with a satisfied air. "Damn, it's good to be here!" He looked around the briefing room and his friends gathered around. "Everyone's still in one piece? Well, you guys been behaving without me?"
Greg pulled up another chair and sat down, looking closely at his friend. "So, Ed. C'mon. Is there a reason that the hospital could no longer tolerate you and kicked you out three days earlier? What did you do?" he demanded.
"Nothing, Boss! I swear!" Ed retorted, his hands coming up in a gesture of faux surrender. "Stitches from my head were removed yesterday. Now I just need to take my pills, get plenty of rest, avoid stressful situations. Limited movements. The ordinary boring recovery at home, you know. As per usual." Ed shrugged with a smile.
"And what about the leg?" Greg inquired. "When are they going to remove the plate and screws?"
Ed's face winced, "It'll have to remain in place for at least six weeks. Then another surgery, they promised me that it's a short one. Then physiotherapy. In the meantime, they're making me use those ..." He nodded with disgust at his crutches, leaned against the table.
"Good. But what did they say about your recovery time?" Spike asked, taking a seat. "When will you be back here?"
Ed smiled at his young teammate. "Why, Spike! Are you implying you're already missing me? What, is Wordy giving you such a hard time without me?" He winked at a very satisfied Wordy at the opposite side of the table.
"Hey! I'm just a creature of habit Ed!" Spike said in all innocence, "I'm fine with Wordy as a team leader! He's not so exacting and formidable and commanding and hardassed and..." he faltered, noticing Ed's raised eyebrows and hearing strangled laughs from around him. "Oh, sorry Ed… I didn't mean… you're one hell of a fearless leader!" Spike put his hands up, palms out.
Wordy gave a short dry cough, attracting Spike's attention, "And I'm not, Spike?" he asked in an exaggeratedly gentle voice.
"Wordy! I was just kidding!" Spike's eyes flicked from Wordy to Ed and back and he sent his temporary and permanent team leaders his best charming smile. "I didn't mean that you could not be like Ed, Wordy. In some ways you're even better and... I mean… you can be as intimidating and threatening as..." his gaze back to Ed, "Oh…"
"Spike, shut up," Sam whispered and kicked him lightly under the table.
"How nice to hear that, Spike!" Wordy said sweetly. "By the way, I've thought about giving you the additional obstacle course tomorrow. With full gear. I'm sure you'll appreciate it!" he grinned slightly bloodthirsty.
Spike rolled his eyes and gave a loud groan amid general laughter. "I'm shocked! Two weeks! It's only been two weeks!" he exclaimed, "And what has happened to our good old compassionate and merciful Wordy? Who is this cruel dictator and tyrant?" He shook his head. "Power corrupts!" he accused, leaning forward and pointing a finger down the table at Wordy. Then he smiled broadly and turned to Ed, "Seriously, Ed. When will you back to active duty?"
Ed's smile ceased, his face darkened and the laughter in the briefing room subsided.
"Ed? Something wrong?" Spike looked perplexed, his brow furrowing, "Your active duty?" he repeated worriedly.
"Two or three months..." Ed answered drily, "Maybe more... Doctors can't answer that just yet. There will be evaluations, tests… And then all will be contingent on my ability to pass a departmental physical," Ed paused and frowned; his head bent a little, his fingers drummed lightly on the desk. The others looked at him, knowing that there was something else that Ed wanted to tell them.
"Is there some problem with your leg?" Jules asked with concern.
Ed breathed deeply. "No, the leg is not too bad … although the damage to the tendons and ligaments could be problematic. Now don't go assuming the worst. All they are saying to me is there are no guarantees, but with proper physical therapy and sufficient time for healing, there is a good chance for a full recovery."
"That sounds fine to me," Spike said carefully, "But this is good news, right? Is there bad news?"
Ed gave one tiny nod. "Doctors say it's my head they are worried about even more my leg." He tapped the side of his bald head with a finger and chuckled grimly. "It was a severe concussion, and, as you know, it's not my first. There may be long-term consequences, my neurologist said. And… I might become … well… furious, irritable, hot-tempered and all that... you know…" he made a swirly motion beside his head.
Wordy raised his eyebrows, "You mean more than usual?" he asked and copied Ed's gesture, obviously trying to inject a little levity into the situation.
"Wordy!" Jules shushed at him reproachfully.
"It isn't funny at all Wordy!" Ed grunted but chuckled slightly. "They said there may be problems after a while. Problems with attention, with coordination, reduced visual acuity, hand tremors… You get the picture?" He rested his elbows on the table and looked questioningly at his silent friends. "There are no snipers with poor eyesight and trembling hands," Ed paused, "So maybe you guys should get used to Wordy's dictatorship." He spread his hands wide and smiling.
Nobody spoke for a few seconds.
"Well…" Spike cleared his throat with a soft cough, breaking the silence. "Furious and irritable I'm used to. Hot-tempered I can deal with. What I can't deal with right now is Ed Lane in a full blown depression. No. No way," he shook his head.
A smirk crossed Ed's face at this, "I'm not depressed, Spike."
"You're also in denial!" Spike said confidently, holding up his finger. "Depression is a common thing after a major trauma!"
"Why Spike, I'm impressed! I wasn't aware you had a degree in psychiatry," Ed sarcastically raised an eyebrow at him, "I'm really not depressed. The shrink lady said so!" He looked around the table at the circle of stunned faces, waiting for their response. They all remained silent. "That is just the reality of the situation. I came here to tell you about it. Decided that it would be better if you heard this news from me. No more secrets."
Greg reached out and patted him gently on the shoulder. "Eddie, come on. It's not quite that bad. I've talked with your doctors. Your current tests are within the normal range. They do not really expect any complications. They are just playing safe. Just wanting to ensure themselves and you against any risks. I am sure you'll make a full recovery and in a couple months you'll be fine as usual," he said in a soft but resolute voice.
"Ed! You know, for someone who's just risen from the dead, two months is not such a long time," Wordy said quietly.
Ed nodded and opened his mouth, going to reply; but suddenly something clawed a rapid, painful way straight up his leg hidden under the table.
Ed yelped, reflexively jumping from his chair, unable to hold back a loud groan of pain as he accidentally leaned on his injured leg. "Get it! Get it off!" he growled through gritted teeth, grabbing at the edge of the table for balance.
Everyone jumped out of their seats.
"God! Jules, take her off now!" Greg cried out frightened, darting to Ed's side to support him.
"She's not to blame!" Jules rushed over to Ed to remove the kitten, still hanging onto Ed's leg. "This is what Spike's taught her! She's just very curious!" she assured Ed, cradling the kitten close to her chest. "And she's a minx, aren't you sweetie?" she crooned to the cat.
Ed's face twisted with pain as he dropped back in his chair.
"Ed, you okay?" they looked at him anxiously.
"Terrific! Just add a heart attack and a couple of dozen scratches to my list of injuries." Ed grumbled, taking a breath. Then he stared at the kitten in Jules's hands. "What the hell is it doing here? I told you to take it to the shelter!" He frowned.
"Ed, the vet said that she is too small to be in a shelter. She is a little unhealthy, so it would be better if someone can temporarily keep her in the house until she can recover and get stronger," Jules hugged the kitten, gently stroking her.
"Well, so find a temporary home! Animals do not belong in SRU. I can't believe Holleran allowed it." Ed said glumly, still wincing and rubbing his injured leg.
"You know ... We thought it could be you ... While you are recovering at home ... Besides, you are already familiar with her... It would only be temporary until we found a permanent place for her. Her name's Cassie," came the answers from all sides.
Ed blinked, his mouth falling open for a moment before he suddenly catch the clue, "What?!" His eyebrows shot up. "Are you kidding? Forget it! I hate cats!" he burst out laughing and looked around the table in astonishment. Getting no reply he threw up his hands and shook his head in resignation. "No! No way, no how, not a chance, not anytime soon, ah ah, not going to happen, nope, absolutely not, not a snowball's chance in hell, no definitely not!" he paused for breath.
The rest of the team just sat in silence, waiting for Ed's speech to taper off.
Ed leaned back in his chair. "You brought it here! Now it's your problem, you deal with it! Don't bring me into this!" He looked around the table again and his gaze settled on Parker. "Boss, why don't you take it?"
Greg's eyes widened in barely concealed horror. He shook his head wildly. "Eddie, you know, I'm at work day and night. She will be at home all day alone and right now she needs special care. Come on," he coaxed in his most persuasive tone.
"Jules?" Ed ignored him and looked at the young woman with the kitten in her arms.
"Same here, Ed. Work. Like Sam and Lou." Jules sighed, still stroking the kitten.
"Wordy, you have four women in the house," Ed did not give up.
"No way. Shelley's allergic to cats." Wordy shrugged. His voice was perfectly serious, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
"Spike?" Ed's voice became tense. "Your mom?"
"Oh, no, no, sorry, Ed!" Spike's eyes became comically large. "Mom would kick me out of the house in a second if I came home with a cat!"
"Oh, come on! There are three hundred people in this building! I'm sure..." Ed paused and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, watching as his team exchange glances, "Wait … Damn, I got it! You have all already decided it, huh?" Ed stared angrily at his teammates. "Are you crazy? I don't even know what a kitten needs!" he exclaimed but was cut off by Jules.
"I'll write you a list. Don't worry. You'll do just fine!" She graced him with a wide smile.
"Why the hell is it 'Cassie'?" Ed frowned.
Jules shrugged. "It was necessary to register her at the clinic. I named her Cassie," she blushed a little, seeing Ed's icy stare. "What! It's a good name! She likes it. She already responds to it!" she added proudly.
Ed scrunched up his face and rolled his eyes.
Greg sighed; his gaze was full of despair. "Eddie, listen to me, please. I'm really begging you here. It's only for the time that you are on recuperative leave. If only for a month!"
"A month?" Ed made a strangled sound.
Greg's voice was almost humming now. "Otherwise, we'll never get anything done here. Hey, she saved your life, after all!"
"That doesn't matter!" Ed shook stubbornly his head. "You are all crazy! I was seriously injured! I had surgery only ten days ago! I have a severe concussion!" He looked at Parker in search of support. "Boss! My scull is broken!"
"Come on, Eddie, it's just a tiny crack!" Greg waved a hand in the air.
"And leg!" Ed pointed at his crutches.
"It's on the mend," Greg smiled.
"Hey!" Ed shot him a hurt look. "Two weeks ago you all went mad worrying about one miserable scratch on my shoulder and a bruise! And now you don't care about my broken bones! How about brimming with empathy, huh?" He looked around at the rest of his team only to find all six of them grinning back at him. "Great! Good job with the whole connect-respect thing there!" Ed's tone was one of perfect indignation. "And don't forget I also had pneumonia! I need clean air not inhaling a stray cat's hairs! Doctor said!"
"Doctor said that your pneumonia was caused by the inhalation of dust and smoke. Now your lungs are clear." Spike tranquilly dismissed this argument. "And she is no longer a stray. She's domestic," he added peremptorily.
"It's NOT!" Ed exclaimed.
"I'm sure a few cat hairs will not kill you, Ed," Sam piped up, barely chancing a smirk when Ed shot him a glare.
"Guys! I need a complete rest and lots of sleep! Limited movements! I … I can hardly walk!" Ed kept resisting.
"All the more reason we need someone to keep you at home," Wordy calmly interrupted him, "Otherwise, you'll sneak in here every day. I know you. You'll hang out here, driving us crazy, instead of resting and recovering at home," he smiled.
"I won't, Wordy!" Ed fervently shook his head.
"Ed, listen, it'll be good for you not to be home alone, really," Jules said softly.
"I'm okay with being alone, Jules." Ed frowned, "Damn! Why a cat? If you care enough about me not to be at home alone, give me a dog instead!"
"You have to walk a dog," Greg nodded meaningfully at Ed's crutches.
"Then a fish! A turtle! Anything but a cat! Guys, I really don't like them, I mean it!" Ed almost bellowed.
"Fish are boring." Jules waved aside his protest with a smile, "And turtles are bald; they are not so cute! Not like you, sweetie?" she cooed to the wriggling kitten in her hands.
"Hey!" Ed cried in a hurt voice. "I like things without hair!" He ran his fingers over his shaved head, looking deeply affronted. "Besides it will make a mess, noise and filth! How do you think I'm going to clean up all the mess with my hands busy with crutches?"
"Ed, she's very, very neat! You won't have any problems with her! Three weeks?" Jules pressed.
The kitten suddenly hopped from her lap onto the table, knocking over Greg's cup full of coffee. With a plaintive moan and a quiet curse Greg rushed over to rescue the documents with the list of the day's tasks now perishing in a brown puddle.
Jules jumped up from her chair and removed the cat from the table, stroking it gently.
"Neat? I see. Huh! It's STRAY!" Ed snorted.
"Just stroke her, Ed! Don't be afraid!" Jules stepped close to him, holding the kitten.
"I'm not afraid of ALL cats, Jules! That was just the ONE cat! Only once! Don't!" Ed protested as Jules quickly put the cat on his lap. "I spent hours in that basement with it lying on my head! And that was more than enough for me!" He frowned but made no attempt to get rid of the little creature on his lap.
Everyone around sighed with relief.
"Ed, she really is very smart!" Spike joined in the persuasion, trying valiantly to keep a straight face. "Believe me! Come on, two weeks?"
The kitten suddenly noticed its tail and attacked it, biting it.
"Smart. Definitely!" Ed's face was expressionless.
"She's very calm and quiet. А week, Ed?" Sam tried to make his voice confident but could not hide a smile on his lips.
Like a small tornado, the little cat whirled several times, trying to catch its tail and suddenly hopped onto Ed's shoulder, tightly clutching at his jacket with sharp claws for balance.
"Calm and quiet. Sure. I see." Ed's voice was icy.
"Come on, buddy! Five days? She is really friendly!" Wordy cajoled with clear amusement in his voice.
The kitten sniffed at Ed's bald skull and the scar, sneezed loudly and then tried to bite Ed's ear.
Ed jerked his head irritably.
"Eddie... Just three days... I'm really begging you here." Greg's voice was almost a whisper. "I promise you, it'll be just perfect."
Ed gave him a sidelong glance. "In what sense are you using 'perfect' here, boss?"
"You'll love it! Trust me, buddy!" Greg suddenly grinned somehow cunningly.
"Wonderful. Just what I've always wanted!" Ed snorted.
He unhooked the claws of the small creature from his shoulder, held it out at arm's length and looked it over.
The tense silence filled the room.
Cassie stared at Ed with unblinking green eyes, her ears flattened against her skull.
"She likes you!" Jules squeaked.
The kitten tried to wriggle out of Ed's grasp, uttering a loud and indignant meow, dissatisfied with its hanging position. Then, with a low growl, it started to bite the fingers holding it.
Ed let out a long suffering sigh. He knew he'd already lost.
"Three days, but only because you saved my life," Ed conceded, not noticing the triumphant smiles and victory signs behind him. "But there are rules in my house that you'll have to follow all the while you stay there." He looked sternly at the wriggling kitten in his hand. "Do not make any noise. Do not shed hair everywhere. Do not walk on the tables. Do not scratch my clothes. Do not lie on my head. Do not ..."
The deep growl that accompanied this speech, suddenly turned to a furious hiss, as if someone had splashed water on a hot stove.
"...and do not hiss at me!" Ed finished firmly, narrowing his eyes at the small cat in front of him.
The kitten narrowed its eyes, too, then bared its teeth and hissed again.
"They are so cute together, aren't they?" Jules murmured tenderly.
Everyone nodded enthusiastically.
Greg was silently offering up a prayer of thanks…
###
The same evening.
Lying in bed in his tiny apartment, Ed watched the hockey game, ignoring the small cat, which had decided it was going to explore the room.
The game ended. Ed turned off the TV and glanced at the clock. Okay, bed time, he sighed heavily and turned off the light on the bedside table.
With a grunt he found a comfortable position for his bad leg and closed his eyes, praying that the nightmares would be not so tormenting this night.
Five minutes later, he heard the kitten enthusiastically digging in its litter.
"Damn, you had all evening, why now?" he groaned in exasperation and switched on the light. Muttering a few obscenities, he crawled out of bed and, leaning on crutches headed to the small bathroom.
After clearing the litter, he went back and lay down again, glumly listening to the sounds in the dark. Nothing disturbed the blessed silence and, with a sigh of relief, Ed closed his eyes.
A bray of something metallic, rolling across the floor sounded louder than thunder in the silence of the night.
"Damn!" Ed fumbled for the lamp on his bedside table.
The kitten was playing hockey, using a metal cap from a beer bottle as a puck.
Ed flung aside the blanket, sat up and scowled down at the kitten. "You!" he pointed, "Drop it! Enough hockey for today!" He stood up and the kitten immediately hid under the bed. Removing the toy out of range of the cat paws, Ed went back to bed.
Five minutes later he felt something land on the bed near his side. It slowly made its way across Ed's body, unconcerned as to what body parts it stepped on.
Ed cursed again.
Not long after, he discovered Cassie standing on his leg. Fortunately, on his good one.
"Shoo!" He jerked his leg, trying to shake the little creature off.
Cassie dug her teeth and claws into the moving object.
"Uh, scat!" Ed tried again.
Cassie pounced on his toes.
"Why couldn't you be a dog?" Ed asked rhetorically, quickly hiding his leg under the blanket.
Cassie attacked the blanket.
"God," Ed set up, not-too-carefully picked up the cat and placed her on the floor. "The new rule. You do not lie in my bed. Floor only! You got it?" he asked into the darkness, and receiving no answer, lay down again.
About fifteen minutes later, just as he was dozing off, Ed discovered the cat next to his face. In the dim light that penetrated into the room from the window, he saw that the kitten was staring unblinkingly at him.
"Now what?" he growled.
Cassie sniffed and licked his forehead, tickling his nose with her long whiskers.
"You don't need to wash me, thank you," Ed protested weakly, rubbing his nose and burying his face in the pillow.
Cassie purred in his ear.
"Why don't you go to sleep?" Ed's voice was muffled into the pillow.
Purr.
"Tomorrow I'll take you back to the Barn," Ed raised his head and announced his decision to the kitten.
Cassie settled before his face and started to wash one of her hind legs.
"Could you do that somewhere else, please?" Ed moaned.
Cassie stared to wash her butt.
With a loud groan Ed rolled over onto the other side. He felt Cassie pad along the pillow and curl up against the back of his head. His bald head became pleasantly warm and he remembered the time when he had his own hair. Maybe I should stop shaving my head a while? He imagined the shock on the faces of his teammates when they see him with hair, smiled and closed his eyes. He could hear the kitten purring as she lay there and soon he fell asleep to that comforting sound.
No nightmares came to him that night..