I don't own the characters and make no monetary profit from this story. Peter Gunn and Edie Hart own each other. My profit consists of the fun I have with them.

A special thanks to Melchy for several suggestions that appear in this chapter and the next. Anything to make Pete happy!

A Lifetime in Eight Days

Chapter 23: Home Is Where the Hart Is

Peter Gunn walked slowly and gingerly into his apartment, moving under his own power but glad for the unobtrusive support of the two people who accompanied him. Yesterday when Dr. Carson told him that he'd be released this morning he had listened with mixed emotions. He hadn't been home in two weeks and he remembered only a few days out of those fourteen. He hadn't known what to expect once he got back to the familiarity of his own apartment. Had whatever it was that happened to him started there? Would stepping through the doorway bring back memories of events he might not want to remember? It hurt his head just thinking about it, brought on that pounding headache that had become so much a part of him over the past several days. Edie's words from yesterday morning came back to him. She said she didn't want him to remember. Maybe she was the smart one. Perhaps ignorance truly was bliss.

His hand found the wall for support as he took the step down into the living room and glanced around. No matter the circumstances that found him here he was very glad to be home. After all, home was where the heart was. He turned his head to look at Edie. Or in his case, where the Hart was. Pete gave a snort at his own funny and a satisfied smile crossed his face as he watched Edie set a couple bags down next to the coffee bar. She straightened and glanced at him curiously and his smile dimmed a little. He had been worried about her yesterday when she'd finally reappeared in his room, especially when he'd seen Pop accompanying her. Pop, who had supposedly gone home to get some rest. He could tell Edie had been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her nose was shiny. When she stepped into the bathroom and closed the door and he heard water running in the sink he'd tried to ask Pop what was wrong. Pop had looked at him and told him to let it be. Just like when he was a kid and something was going on that he didn't understand. Just let it be, son. If you're meant to know you'll know. But this was Edie and he wasn't a little kid anymore and if she was hurting then he wanted to know why. Last time she'd been hurting he'd let it be. He wouldn't make that same mistake again. It had ended up causing more pain and more misunderstanding and more distance between them than he ever wanted to experience again.

Pete's musings came to an end as Edie stepped past him, taking his hand in hers in the process and leading him further into the living room. She asked if he noticed anything different. He could have told her that he noticed she was here, in his apartment, which was different from the past month or so when he'd been here by himself, alone. But he didn't. Instead he followed her eyes and looked where she looked. The easy chair he normally called his own was gone. In its place was a reclining chair. Pete's eyebrows rose and his smile returned. His hand left hers as he stepped over to the light beige BarcaLounger positioned near the sofa. He reached out and felt of the cushioned fabric and admired the head pillow before gingerly sitting down on the edge of the seat and running his hands along the plush arms of the chair. He looked up at Edie.

"Where did this come from?"

"Jordan's Furniture delivered it this morning. Barney helped me pick it out," she told him, sitting down on the nearby coffee table and handing him some brochures and a catalog that she'd tossed there when the chair had been delivered at just after nine. She grinned. "Remember when he told everyone his life had become too dull and humdrum and he bought that new furniture for his apartment because he decided he was going to be a new man?" She looked up at Frank Gunn as he came back down from carrying his son's things upstairs to the bedroom. "For two weeks he talked about nothing else but his new reclining chair and he made us all go over to his place to see it." Edie shifted her gaze back to the man in the chair. "I knew how much you liked it so when Dr. Carson said you had to take things easy for a while I thought it would be a nice thing for you to have."

Pete watched as her eyes clouded at the memory of the Sunday afternoon they'd all met at Barney's and he instinctively knew what she was thinking. That had been just a couple of weeks prior to their breakup. He got to his feet, wincing at the short stab of pain that radiated along his ribs, and pulled her roughly into his arms, hugging her as tightly as he was able, his chin resting in the curve of her neck. Her arms crept around him, her hands moving along his back, her fingers clinging to the dark blue sweater he'd worn home from the hospital. After a moment or two he felt her smile and then she leaned back and looked into his face.

"So you like it?"

"I love it," he answered, staring straight into her eyes, the inflection of his words telling her he wasn't just referring to the chair. He gave her a not very chaste kiss before settling his chin back in the curve of her shoulder.

Edie gazed over that shoulder at the other occupant of the room. While the two of them were busy Pop had folded himself into the BarcaLounger and reclined the chair and was now leafing through one of the brochures, reading glasses perched on his nose.

"So does someone else apparently," she teased, her words directed at both men.

"It says here that this chair is an adventure in relaxation," Frank Gunn said. "In as little as fifteen minutes your bunched up muscles and nerves can be relaxed."

"My muscles and nerves," Pete said without turning around.

"As little as fifteen minutes fully reclined helps to restore energy," Pop read from a second brochure. He stretched out his legs and leaned further back, dropping his reading material to his lap and folding his arms behind his head.

"Get out of my chair," Pete warned with a mock frown as he turned to face his dad, his arm slung around Edie's shoulders to afford himself a little extra support following the walk up from the car.

"I just might need to get one of these myself," Pop said, winking at Edie. "Older fellas like me suffer from bunched up nerves and muscles too, you know." He waved his hand at the two of them. "You kids run along and do what you need to do. I toted everything upstairs." He felt of one shoulder and rubbed at it and groaned. "That must've been how my muscles got so bunched up. I'll just relax here for about fifteen minutes and break in your new chair while I restore my energy." He smiled and closed his eyes.

Edie placed Pete's shampoo and shaving cream and other personal hygiene items back where they belonged in the bathroom then entered the bedroom with his travel bag. Still in the bag were the personal items that had been returned by Lieutenant Jacoby. She had all but forgotten about them until she began to gather Pete's things together before he was released. She had quickly placed everything in the bottom of the bag while he was engaged in conversation with Dr. Carson, surprised he hadn't mentioned them or asked about them considering his fastidiousness about such things. When she asked the doctor about returning the items to Pete she had been advised that they were his things and he would eventually ask about them so she might as well just give them to him when the opportunity arose. She supposed she might as well get it over with.

Pete was sitting on the bedroom chair. He had exchanged the trousers he'd worn home for a pair of pajama bottoms and had a t-shirt lying on his lap and was awaiting Edie's help to pull it over his head. His ribs hurt worse than he could remember and his head didn't feel much better. He wouldn't mind a pain pill but he didn't want to go overboard with them. He watched Edie place his travel bag on the bed and then reach inside several times to remove a number of items and lay them on the quilt.

She placed the insurance receipt to one side to take downstairs and file away and then showed Pete the laundry ticket and asked what needed to be picked up, telling him she'd take care of it tomorrow. Picking up his comb she walked over and ran it through his hair, being careful of the still tender area on the back of his head, telling him he certainly needed a haircut and promising to stop by the barber shop while she ran errands the next day to ask Johnnie if he wouldn't mind stopping by the apartment to give him a trim. Pete just smiled and pulled her to stand between his knees as she continued her ministrations with the comb he normally carried in his right inside suit pocket. When his hair was to her liking she dropped the comb on the nightstand.

Edie separated out his watch, cuff links and cigarette lighter from the remaining items and placed them in the tray on the dresser. Her fingers lingered on the cuff links with the stylized black capital Gs and black edging.

"I'd hate to lose those, they're my favorite pair." Pete gave her a half smile as she turned her head to look at him. "Some blonde cutie gave them to me for Christmas. They mean a lot to me." His eyes searched hers.

Edie reached out a hand to touch his face, her smile tender.

Pete dragged his gaze away from hers and picked up the t-shirt from his lap, letting it unfold as he stuck his arms through the sleeves. Edie grabbed the edge of the shirt and pulled it over his head and straightened it down his back and front. Then before he had time to react her hand slid to the back of his neck and she bent and captured his lips with hers, kissing him solidly and with a fierce hunger that she had only ever felt with him, that he brought out in her as no other man ever had, that she hadn't even known existed before she met him. He grabbed her arms and pushed himself up from the chair, their lips never parting, their kiss deepening with desire and passion and want and need and love and every other undefinable emotion that had lain bottled up inside both of them for the past weeks. Almost in desperation he tightened his arms around her and turned with her, backing her against the closed closet door, glad for its firm support as he leaned into her, afraid to let her go, afraid that this might turn into another one of those dreams, one of those times when he allowed himself to let her into his head while knowing she wasn't really there.

But she was here this time. There was no mistaking the smooth softness of her skin as his hands delved underneath her blouse, the puckering of her nipples as he pushed her lacy bra out of the way and cupped her breasts, the firm roundness of her bottom as he reached down and pulled her closer. And there was absolutely no mistaking his own body's physical response to the woman in his arms. He pulled his lips from hers and buried his face in the sweet curve of her shoulder, very much aware that this was going no further yet aching to feel himself inside her, longing to take her to bed and make love to her until they were both too exhausted to move. He smiled at the thought. Smiled too when he felt Edie's hands move from his shoulders to the back of his head, her fingers gently weaving through his hair and feathering along his neck.

"I really love you very much." Her voice was a soft breath in his ear.

Pete lifted his head and found himself staring into the deep blue of her eyes. That had become their mantra. Those words. And it had been much too long since he'd last heard them. He liked their sound. He had since the very first time they had slipped from her lips in just that manner, that rainy September night on the dock behind Mother's, almost exactly a year ago, barely two weeks after they had crossed that final line and made love among the warm tangled sheets of her bed. It hadn't been the first time she told him she loved him. She hadn't been at all shy in letting him know her feelings for him. And she hadn't been shy in proving it to him. But he had been ashamed because it had been the first time he'd said the words back. Not because he didn't love her. Because he did. Not because he didn't already know, had known from the very moment he first laid eyes on her, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Because he did. He had been afraid to say the words. It was as simple as that, or as complicated, depending on which way you looked at it. He wasn't afraid of loving her. He was afraid of hurting her. Afraid that she'd get hurt because of him, because of who he was, because of what he did for a living, because of the sordid class of people he was often involved with.

He dipped his head and kissed her softly, their lips clinging as he drew back.

"I really love you very much."

He watched her expression as she gazed at him, her face so serious, her eyes searching his and obviously finding what she was looking for because her lips curved into a smile. One of those big slow smiles that made his heart pound and his pulse quicken because it was the prettiest smile he knew and it belonged to him and him alone. He pulled Edie close again and they stood there for several minutes, neither moving until she reluctantly disentangled herself from his arms. He sat back down in the chair and watched her as she resumed her task, taking delight in the fact that he could.

When she turned toward him again she held a gun in her hand.

Edie was saying something but he didn't hear what it was. All he saw was the gun. The shiny blue steel of the barrel was pointed to the floor as she held the butt gingerly with her fingers.

You're gonna feel my hurt.

"I don't know what happened to the holster. It wasn't with your things when they were returned." Edie waited for Pete to say something but he didn't. He didn't even look at her. His gaze was locked on the .38 Colt revolver.

And after that I'm gonna put this gun in your ear and blow your brains out.

"Pete?"

So tell me something, Gunn.

He could almost feel the hard steel of the gun barrel pressing against his jaw, pushing, punishing, probably leaving a bruise. He could smell the acrid odor of his own sweat as it began to seep from his pores. For one of the few times in his life he experienced the fearful dread of impending doom. Pete thought he heard someone say his name but a loud buzzing noise filled his ears and his head and his brain and he was unable to pull his gaze from the revolver, was unable to feel anything except the loud burgeoning thump of his heart and the ragged breaths that were forcing themselves up from his lungs. The pounding in his head kept time with the pounding of his heart, each dull beat making the pain worse until he felt like his head might explode.

You got a girl?

The gun moved.

I guess you won't mind if I give her a call...or maybe pay her a visit.

And he moved with it.

Pete bolted from his chair, pain forgotten, feeling nothing but terror and fear and anger as he lunged forward, one hand reaching out to grapple with the weapon while the other grabbed at the person holding it. There was the sound of something crashing to the floor, a loud splintering noise as it broke apart. He felt a body beneath his as they both toppled heavily onto the bed, sensed the revolver flying to the floor and bouncing and tumbling along the carpet and coming to an abrupt stop against the wall.

He didn't hear the footsteps pounding up the stairs. Nor did he see the anxious look on Frank Gunn's face as the man hurried into the bedroom, only to pause suddenly and stare at the two people on the bed and wonder if he'd inadvertently interrupted something. Pop would laugh hilariously about that later, much to Pete's chagrin. But not now. Not as he noticed the revolver on the floor and the table lamp lying broken beside the nightstand.

Pete lay there, elbows digging into the bed as his head slowly cleared, as his heartbeat calmed, as his breathing became easier. The buzzing gave way to a lightheadedness and he slowly became aware that it wasn't just anyone he held pressed against the mattress. It was Edie and she was saying his name and pushing at his chest trying to move him off of her. And then she was being helped by someone else who was grasping at his shoulder and attempting to roll him over. He shrugged those hands away and half turned and tried to push the person away. But it was Pop. Pop was saying his name too. He was telling him to get up and that everything was all right, whatever that meant. Because everything wasn't all right. Even he could see that. And he felt the sudden prick of tears and weakly waved his father away, not wanting him to watch as he made a blubbering fool of himself. Doing it in front of Edie would be bad enough, but not Pop. At thirty-three years of age he wasn't about to cry in front of his dad. He felt Edie's hands on the back of his neck and then at his cheeks and she turned his face toward hers.

"Pete?" Her hands were gentle as they held his face but her fingers trembled slightly and beneath the concern in her eyes was a hint of uncertainty. He'd scared her. He knew it and she knew it and he felt a wave of shame because that was the last thing in the world he wanted. "I'm sorry, I should have just put the gun away until later. I wasn't thinking."

Pete stared down at her. He'd scared her and could easily have hurt her and she was the one apologizing. Still lying half on top of her he slipped his hands beneath her shoulders and buried his face in the curve of her neck. The tears came silently, soaking into the soft cotton material of her pretty pink blouse, a couple of ragged breaths the only outward sign of his discomfort.

Pop silently bent down and picked up his son's revolver and placed it out of sight in the closet for the time being. He then knelt down and began gathering up the broken bits of lamp, as well as Pete's wallet which had somehow ended up on the floor. As he placed the wallet in the nightstand drawer his gaze found the man and woman on the bed. Pete appeared to be slowly relaxing, Edie's fingers running soothingly along his shoulders and his neck and the back of his head, her eyes closed as she just lay there and held him. The elder Gunn disposed of the largest shards of lamp, dropping them into the bathroom wastebasket, then settled himself in the bedroom chair, loath to leave the two of them alone.