"Okay, that's the last box," said Abigail, taking out Mickey's snare drum and placing it in the pile of instruments in the hotel room. "I hope you know that you're gonna be the one to put that set together, Mickey."

"Yeah, I'll get to it," said Mickey, who was collapsed on the couch. "What a crazy last few days…"

"You're telling me," said Cara. "At least it's not boring."

"I think I'd take boring over this crap," said Jane, who had come in to help unpack. "I can't tell you how bad I feel."

"I feel bad by not believing you at first," said Cara.

"Just know you have me on your side," said Jane. "I don't care what Jeff does to me, I'm never going back to being his stooge."

"Well that's good," said Davy. "Where are you going now?"

"Home," said Jane. "I don't think Jeff knows where I live, so I'm safe. I'll let you know if I hear anything."

"Yeah, that'd be nice," said Mike. "Jesus H. Christ, what a night…"

"Well, I guess I'm off," said Jane. "And just so you know I'm not here to hurt you and not ever coming back to hurt you, here." She took the gun she had out of her purse, took the bullets out, and tossed the gun and the bullets out of the hotel room window. "No more guns, I promise."

"Good," said Peter, rubbing his shoulder. Jane gave him an apologetic look.

"I'll see all of you later, hopefully under better circumstances," she said. "Just…hang in there." With that and a few goodbyes, she was out the door.

"Well, I guess everyone has a little good in them," said Mike.

"Yeah," said Peter. "She may be crazy, tried to shoot Cara, and shot me, and worked for Jeff for a while…but she wasn't a bad egg after all."

"Guess it's time to make do with what we have," said Mike. "Maybe we should start moving stuff into rooms…Abigail, you were able to get us four rooms, right?"

"Yeah," said Abigail. "That was the most rooms they have in a suite."

"That means that a couple of us are gonna have to share," said Mike.

"I know who I'm sharing with," said Davy, pulling Abigail over to him seductively.

"So that takes Cara of Abigail," said Mike, pulling a face. "So Cara, who're you rooming with?" He made a slight head gesture to Peter with a wry grin and Cara glared at him, trying not to look embarrassed. Yes, she would very much like to room with Peter, but she had no clue how to say it.

"Hey Peter, why don't you take Cara," Mickey butted in, literally shoving Peter into Cara. Both of them jumped and blushed, avoiding looking each other in the eye.

"Yeah guys, come on, you'll be fine," said Davy. "Come on Pete, you know you want to," he whispered into Peter's ear so that only he could hear. Really, he did want to…

"I can take the couch in there," Cara finally said, red to the roots of her hair.

"Nah, you can get the bed, I'm on the couch," said Peter, red as Cara.

"No, you're a gunshot victim," said Cara. "You need the bed."

"The couch is a pull out, really, the lady should get the bed," said Peter.

"Why don't ya both get the bed?" asked Davy, raising his eyebrows.

There was a very long and awkward pause after than in which both Peter and Cara refused to look anywhere but the floor. "I'll take the bed if you want me to," said Cara finally.

"Okay good," said Peter. Both of them went their separate ways to gather up their bags and move them into the room.

"Can someone say 'awkward'?" said Mickey.

"Well, you guys made it happen," said Abigail. "You sure that was a good idea?"

"As sure as ever," said Davy. "Bout time Peter got the guts to say something to Cara, isn't it?"

"Guess so," said Abigail. She looked over at Cara and Peter who were busy dragging their bags into the room they were going to share. Every time the so much as bumped shoulders they leapt apart like there was static electricity between them and continue their work. They were meant to be—there was no way around it. Abigail could see that Peter was capable of mending Cara's shattered, unloved heart with a touch of his hand.

"Okay, I think that's it," said Peter as he put his bass next to the couch in the room.

"Good," said Cara. She collapsed on the bed. "Oh man…when is this gonna be over?"

"Soon," said Peter, sitting beside her. "Trust me."

"I want to, I promise," said Cara. "It's just too much…all I want is a normal, quiet life…" Peter looked at her. Her eyes were closed tight, she was biting her lip softly, and her hands were raking through her hair. A single tear traveled down her cheek but she sharply brushed it off and turned over on her side. Peter put a hand on her shoulder.

"You're gonna be okay," said Peter. "You're with us." Cara didn't say anything, but that was okay. All she needed was to relax, take some pressure off and calm down. Peter wondered if he should take her in his arms…maybe not, not now. It was not the time. But oh, how he wanted to when he saw her shaking…he heard dry sobs that he could tell she was trying to keep quiet. He ran his fingers through her hair and the two of them stayed there in silence, just taking everything that happened in the past few days all in. When he heard her sobs stop, he got up to see if she was asleep. She was, and Peter gently lifted the bedsheets up from under her, tucking her in. Once he saw she was all snug in bed, he caressed her hair once more and pulled out the bed in the couch and lay down, trying his best to sleep.

"Hey, wonder what they're doing in there, eh?" said Davy outside in the living area of the suite.

"Oh, come on Davy," moaned Mike. "Cara's obviously upset about all of this and Peter's comforting her, don't be so insensitive."

"It was just a joke…" said Davy, defeated.

"That poor girl," said Abigail. "We have to find some fun stuff to do at this hotel, stat. At least till tomorrow. It's getting pretty late."

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna call it a night," said Mickey.

"Good idea," said Mike, suppressing a yawn. "At least we can sleep soundly here; this place is far away from all of our problems."

"For now at least," said Mickey.

"Better than how we were back home," said Abigail. "When all of this is said and done, I'm cutting myself off from the Brownstone family…I'm so ashamed of my family…"

"Hey Abigail," said Davy. "It's not your fault ya know."

"I know it's not Davy, but it's hard to live with," said Abigail, smiling bitterly. "Let's go to bed dear." The four remaining in the living room all dispersed into their bedrooms, weary and half-crazy from the day. They all hoped their nights would be better. Abigail and Davy got into their room and sat down on the bed.

"Look Abigail, all of this will end, and they'll put Jeff away for a long time," said Davy. "We'll all make sure that bastard gets what he deserves."

"I just want Cara to get some justice," said Abigail. "This has been going on for years…there's no way he's going to go away for a long time for just hitting a girl…"

"Trust me love, we'll nab him with something," said Davy. He kissed her deeply and the two lay down on the bed, entwined.

Peter had to admit, it was hard to sleep on a pullout couch, but he had to suck it up. There was no way he was going to make Cara sleep on the couch, and he did not want to invade her privacy and personal space by sleeping in the bed with her, no matter how much he wanted to. He tried to drift off, but it was tough knowing Cara was only a few feet away. Why was this so hard? Meanwhile, Cara was off in her own world…

Cara sat alone on her bed in Jeff's house. She was contemplating what she was going to do…if she ran, it would only be a matter of time before she was found, but boy would it be worth it. Just when she was getting the guts to pull out he suitcase and start packing, Jeff burst through the door to the room, mad about something; she didn't know what.

"Bitch!" he screamed. "Why isn't my dinner ready yet!"

"Jeff, it's only four," said Cara, cowering.

"Oh come on Cara, you know I like my food early!" said Jeff.

"But you don't usually eat till seven," said Cara, afraid of what would come next.

"Bitch, get out there and make me some food, and it better be done soon or so help me I'll break your neck!" Jeff shouted.

"Okay, okay," said Cara, trying not to cry as she slinked out of the room and into the kitchen. She had to get out of there.

"Now!" cried Jeff. "You're not working fast enough!"

"I'm looking for the ingredients!" said Cara, scrambling to find slices of bread and some kind of meat and cheese.

"No, whore, not a sandwich, I want steak!" said Jeff. "It better be ready in five minutes!"

"Jeff, a steak's gonna take more than fi—"

Jeff interrupted her with a smack in the face. "Don't you dare talk back to me you useless slut!" he screamed. Cara's eyes burned with angry tears. This was it. She had had enough at this point. She slammed the loaf of bread she was holding down on the counter and ran at Jeff, her arm held back for a blow. Let's see how he liked being hit, the bastard. She swung her open palm at him, but he caught her wrist and held on tight.

"Not so fast," he growled.

"No," said Cara. "I'm so sick of you Jeff! I'm gonna get out of here if it's the last thing I do!"

"Oh no you're not," said Jeff. "You belong to me, got it? Me!"

"Try me!" shouted Cara. She bit Jeff's hand that was holding her wrist, which was now purple and made a run for it. Jeff caught her and slammed her to the floor, straddling her from behind and holding her arms behind her back, painfully.

"You've got spirit Cara," said Jeff. "But I've got news for you, no one likes a girl with sprit!" He turned her over and proceeded to hit her, all over. One hand was beating her, and the other was gripping her arm, tight. Cara felt the feeling leave the arm that was being gripped and the pain from Jeff's blows. She used her free arm to scratch at him with her nails and her legs kicked and flailed, but to no avail. There was no way out. There was blood gushing out of her lip and the room was spinning. She screamed for help, but who would help her? She was going dizzy and her vision was going black. Was she dying? She couldn't tell…all she wanted was for the pain and the hate to stop…

Cara lurched forward in her bed in the hotel suite, damp with sweat and breathing heavy. She couldn't even run away from Jeff in her dreams…he was everywhere…

"Cara, are you okay?" asked Peter from the pullout couch. Cara jumped and looked over. She had forgotten that Peter was over there.

"I…had a bad dream," she said.

"Tell me about it?" asked Peter.

"It…it was about Jeff," said Cara, still trying to control her breathing.

"Cara, do you want me to come over there?" asked Peter. Cara thought for a moment, and then nodded. Peter got up off the couch and sat next to Cara in bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"It was more of a memory," said Cara. "It actually happened…it was when I first started to think of leaving. One afternoon I was just sitting on my bed, and Jeff comes bursting in my room all upset that I didn't have any food ready for him. I went over to the kitchen to make something, but I was taking too long so he yelled at me. I said I'd had enough and he hit me…I tried to hit back, but he attacked me…he beat me till I went unconscious, I don't know how I'm still alive today…bruises, blood, everywhere." She stopped, her expression blank, but readable. "All I remember thinking was wishing that it would stop…the dream was so real…" She bit her lip as tears began to fall.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight?" asked Peter after a moment of consideration.

"That would be nice," said Cara softly in between sobs. "I'm so sorry you had to see me like this…"

"No, it's okay," said Peter. "There's nothing wrong with feelings. You're going through a lot right now…you can always come to me."

"I'm glad," said Cara. She pulled herself under the blankets again, a little more relaxed now that Peter was there with her. Peter of course joined her, happy that she actually wanted him there. Once they were situated, he did what he had wanted to do for a long, long time and put his arms around her as she lay there. She snuggled into him, comforted. This was the first time she felt like this, ever. Never before had she felt the gentle, caring touch of a man. The only man who ever touched her was Jeff, and that was always filled with pain. This was anything but painful.

It felt so right as Peter held Cara close to him, nuzzling her hair. He felt her tremble as he stroked her side, and he wondered if he should stop. But when he heard her sigh and felt her move closer in, he continued. All she needed was some comfort.

Cara had no clue what she was thinking; maybe it was just emotions running high or stress, or something. All she knew was that she did it. Feeling Peter by her was all too much—she slowly turned around to face him, looked into his tawny eyes, and kissed him softly. At first she wasn't sure if she should have, but when Peter kissed back she knew it was right. This was not like the clumsy and silly drunk kiss the two had the other night. This was true, real. They were sharing it.

Cara's lips were so soft Peter thought to himself as he deepened the kisses and brought her even closer, if it was at all possible. He was getting lost in her…

After God knows how long, the two broke apart, looking like two lost lovers into each other's eyes. Neither of them could find any words to say, but maybe the kiss and their eyes said it all. Cara felt her eyelids get heavy, and no matter how hard she tried to stay awake to share Peter's glances, her head collapsed onto the pillow. Peter smiled; she was too cute sometimes. As Cara drifted off to a more peaceful sleep, Peter did too, his lips tender with her kiss and his head full of thoughts of love for this remarkable woman. Maybe this was it…maybe he was finally going to get what he wanted for so long. He fell asleep smiling.