Hey! I have an update! And thanks to MASHlover23 for the feedback and advice! Hopefully it'll pay off!

Disclaimer: We've already been through this!

It took two more days, one count of food-sabotage (let's just say the results weren't pretty), seventeen death-glares and an 'accidental' soaking with water before Petebog broke.

"I can't do this anymore, Louise, I'm sorry."

"Pete-"

"I really hoped this would work out, but it's hopeless. Your daughters are clearly out for my blood, one of them's probably gay-"

"That is completely untrue." I interjected. I was ignored.

"-And I don't think I can be in any sort of relationship where I have to be around children-"

"Teenagers." Cathy was also blanked.

"-On a regular basis."

"Can't we talk about this?" Mom pleaded. I started to feel terrible.

"Goodbye." At this point, our sworn enemy, the Moriarty of Boston, the man we wanted Out Of Our Lives Forever, strode out the door, and a part of me wanted to undo the past four days when I saw how crushed Mom looked. She sank back into her chair and sighed.

"Are you alright?" I asked, genuinely concerned for once.

"I'll be fine, Beck." She didn't sound like she'd be fine. "Go and play with Cathy." What am I, six years old? The two of us left the room, less jubilant than we thought we'd be.

That night, I slipped into my sister's bedroom the way I had on some of the worst nights during the war, when I felt like my life was crashing down around me and I just wanted comforting from someone in the exact same position as I was, someone who understood.

"Cath-Cath?" I whispered.

"Becky? What are you doing in here?"

"I...I feel like crap." I perched on the edge of her bed.

"Is this about Pete?" she replied. "Because I feel bad too. I know we hated him, but I think Mom really liked him."

"I know." Tears began to fall from my eyes. I hadn't cried in six months. "I wish I could fund some way of doing the right thing without screwing something else up!" I brought my knees up under my chin and curled into a ball. "Everywhere I go, I just seem to leave a trail of devastation in my wake. I've been Hurricane Beck all my life, and I'm sick of it! I'm a natural disaster! Why do I the people I love always seem to get hit? Why do I have to hurt them?"

"Becky," Cathy grabbed my shoulders and shook me slightly. "Look at me." I did as she said, and even in the darkness I could see a spark of something I couldn't quite name - a mixture of determination, frustration, and a small amount of sadness- in her brown eyes. "You are not a natural disaster, and you have never screwed anything up without fixing it afterwards. I know I said you did, but at least you tried to help, and that's a hell of a lot more than I did."

"But what if I can't fix this?"

"Who are you and what have you done with my sister?" I look up at her, confused. "The Becky Pierce-McIntyre I know is an eternal optimist, not this. Not a defeatist."

"Everyone has bad days."

"Well, you're not giving up on yourself now, not on my watch."

"I ruined your life- you've already made that clear."

"You're still my sister. Besides, I owe you one."

"What do you mean?"

"D'you remember when Dad was drafted?" I nod. "Mom was constantly worrying, and I had nightmares for weeks. But you remember what you did? You carried on almost like normal. You were still upset, but not like we were."

"Yes, I was." I mumbled. "I just didn't show it as much."

"We didn't know that at the time. Mom didn't think you knew what was happening, and I just didn't get how you could act so carefree. So we asked you about it and you said: 'I'm not really sad because he's coming home. He's not fighting and he's nowhere near the front line, so he's not gonna die. It's OK.' Then we just stared at you for a while because it was hard to believe a six-year-old girl could think about this so rationally when a grown woman couldn't. You told me you were still afraid, and you slept in my room for then next three months, but I think it's those words that kept us all sane. And now here you are, devastated, and I'm not too happy either, but I think it's my turn to be the reassuring one. You can fix this."

"You think so?" My protective bubble of optimism, the one I created during the war to keep me safe inside, seemed to have burst, and now here was Debbie Downer being...not a total downer. The world had officially gone mad.

"I know so."

"Good." I took a deep breath. I knew what I had to do. "I have a plan, Cathy. I don't want to have to do it, but it's the only option. I'm tired of being a destructive force. I'm tired of being a hurricane."