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

This chapter took a while. I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks as always to Melchy for her input and several suggestions that made it into this chapter.

A Lifetime in Eight Days

Chapter 28: Sense and Sentiment

Cold metal against his bare chest had Peter Gunn flinching and Joe Carson chuckling at his patient. The doctor had dropped by about an hour after Edie Hart and Frank Gunn had gone out together to run their own separate errands, bickering good-naturedly as they went out the door about what time Edie would pick Pop up at Chadwick's and what department she might find him in should she be early. Pete had no idea why his dad had decided to visit the big department store aside from Pop's offhand comment that he'd left home in such a hurry that he had come away with only the bare necessities and without something he decided he needed. Edie on the other hand had been quite transparent concerning her objectives. She needed to run by the dry cleaner's to pick up two more dresses, a seemingly endless cycle, then had to stop at the dress shop to pick up another that had been waiting there for her since Mrs. Fleming had finished the alterations over two weeks ago. She wanted to drop by the club to pick up the music the combo planned for Monday night. Pete knew she wouldn't get away from Mother's in a hurry. Emmett and the guys would be happy to see her even though she'd been there two nights ago and they'd be loathe to let her go, Barney would have some things to say and Mother herself would want to gossip. They'd missed their girl. He knew how they felt, he didn't want to let her out of his sight. Before or after or in between those stops she intended to go by her apartment to feed and water Thomas. As the two of them headed out the back door and through the laundry room to walk downstairs to the parking garage, after finally deciding on what time and where, Pete had heard his dad say something to Edie about just packing the cat up and bringing him back with her. The PI had missed her reply as the door closed behind them.

"I hope you didn't make an extra trip just to see me." Pete leaned forward as the doctor instructed and this time felt the cold of the stethoscope against his back. He was told to breathe deeply in and out several times. Then the man's much warmer hands probed at his kidney area, eliciting a hiss of discomfort.

"That hurt?" Carson asked. He returned the stethoscope to his black bag and snapped it shut, then scooted over to sit at the edge of the chair across from the PI.

"Not really," Pete responded then grimaced as the doctor chuckled. "Just a little," he admitted.

"Uh huh," the other man grinned. "Same as your ribs, just a little." He leaned back and crossed his legs and clasped his hands over his knee. "Actually today turned out to be another day off for me but not for my wife so I've been at loose ends. As a teacher she has to work Monday through Friday. Me? I'm off and on to the point that half the time I'm not sure when I'm supposed to be at work." Carson smiled and glanced down at his hands and then back up at Pete. "Anyway, it's been at the back of my mind to drop by to check up on you so I figured this was as good a time as any. I'm glad to say you're doing very well. I'm impressed."

"Don't be." The detective smiled. "You plan on charging my insurance company for working on your day off?"

"No," Carson chuckled. "According to my professional calendar this is merely a social call. I just happened to have my little black bag with me in case of an emergency." He looked on as Pete heaved a tired sigh and slipped his arms back through the sleeves of the blue University of Pennsylvania t-shirt he had removed for the doctor's quick exam, gingerly pulling it down over his chest.

"You attended Penn?" He continued at Pete's nod. "Not to sound either nosy or rude, but since when do Ivy League schools offer courses in private investigation?"

"They don't."

"So what's the story?"

Pete leaned back on the sofa, unconsciously imitating the older man's stance, and gave him a considering look before finally offering a little shrug.

"I came up with this idea that I wanted to follow in my dad's footsteps. When I was a little kid he always came home with stories that made his job sound adventurous and exciting and wonderful and I knew I had to be just like him." He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck and smiled ruefully as Joe Carson raised an eyebrow. "I know, I know. Eliot Ness and still-busting and prohibition had gone by the wayside a long time before. But I still wanted to go out there and save the world and right every wrong and prevent every injustice." Pete scratched his forehead reminiscently and peered at his guest. "So after I was discharged from the Army in '45 I looked around for the best criminal justice program I could find and that turned out to be Penn. I graduated with a degree in criminology and a minor in pre-law."

"And became a private investigator."

"Yeah. Long story." Pete's smile turned wry. "Remind me to tell you about it sometime."

"I will," Carson promised.

The PI offered to make a fresh pot of coffee.

"Unless there's somewhere else you have to be," he told his guest. Assuring him there wasn't, but not wanting to intrude on his host's time, the doctor was told not to worry. "I was feeling kind of funny being here all by my lonesome. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing with myself before you happened along."

Pete looked with apology at his visitor when the doorbell interrupted their conversation, pushing himself up from the sofa, hitching up his black sweatpants and straightening his shirt as he walked up the two steps to the landing. He told the doctor he'd find the coffee maker on the counter next to the stove if he wanted to get the pot started and that there was a bag of Eight O'Clock Coffee that Edie had picked up from the A&P in the freezer or a can of Folger's in the top cabinet by the refrigerator, the choice was his. Carson nodded amiably and wandered in the direction of the kitchen.

The private investigator stretched his shoulders back and rotated his head from side to side, grimacing at the twinges of pain his movements initiated as he tried to loosen sore muscles. Reaching to open the apartment door his hand stilled on the knob, his attention captured by the fading reddish bruising on the outside of his wrist that he hadn't paid much attention to before. Turning his left wrist over he noticed almost identical marks. The thoughtful frown that briefly creased his forehead was erased by another ring of the bell, this one much more insistent than the first, his unknown visitor keeping a finger on the button longer than Pete liked. He pulled the door open and found Lieutenant Jacoby standing in the hallway, raincoat and hat in place, hands clasped in front of him, a thick folder under one arm.

Jacoby's perpetually droll expression didn't change as he eyed his friend. Without saying a word he brushed past the PI into the apartment, shuffled down the couple steps that led into the living room and strolled toward the sofa, placing the brown folder on the coffee table as he began unbuttoning his coat. The coat remained on but his hat came off, even if it was just to be held in his hand. He glanced around the apartment, noticing it didn't seem quite as neat as usual, but with two extra people there for the time being he figured that was to be expected. His sharp gaze also took note of the dark gray topcoat and black medical bag on the fireplace bench. Finally he shifted his attention to Pete, not surprised to find the other man staring right back at him.

"Nice to see you too, Lieutenant." Pete's expression was somewhere between a smile and a grimace at his friend's lack of greeting or polite inquiry concerning the state of his health. "I'm doing just fine, thanks. Good of you to ask."

Ignoring Pete's sarcasm and without breaking their gaze the Lieutenant tipped his head toward the item he had laid on the coffee table.

"That's not going to solve your problem, Pete." He thrust the hand not holding the hat into his coat pocket and turned away to pace toward the glass doors leading onto the patio, turning around halfway, his eyes landing once again on his friend as he continued speaking in a soft voice. "That file will tell you everything there is to know regarding the investigation. It will answer every question you have about how it was conducted, who was involved, the evidence we collected. Why it began, how it ended, everything in between." Jacoby took the few steps that brought him into the PI's personal space. "The one thing it won't give you is what happened to you during those eight days. You can try reading between the lines of the reports, pull out that fine tooth comb you're so adept at using, employ all your fancy detective tricks. In the end you'll still only find one version of what happened, one side of the story."

The PI folded his arms across his chest and his gaze slipped sideways to the folder. He looked again at the policeman and lifted his shoulders in a shrug.

"Maybe it'll give me a clue, jog a memory." Determined blue eyes met gentle brown. "Maybe it can shed some light on a few things." He shrugged again and offered up a reluctant smile. "I just need to know what happened to me. If there's something in that file that can help me then I'll take the chance that I'll find it."

"I tried calling your doctor to ask his opinion about letting you look at it. That's why it took me a little while to get back to you, it wasn't because I was ignoring you. I was told he was off today so I gave up on that idea and just decided to bring it over." The cop's tone was as blunt as usual. No beating around the bush. The detective appreciated that he could trust Jacoby to be up front with him but he wasn't sure he was happy with his actions. Knowing his friend had spotted the doctor's belongings Pete wordlessly tipped his head toward the kitchen. The policeman continued to eye him then stepped forward and around him, tossing his hat to a chair in the process. He made it halfway to the other room before abruptly changing direction and heading back to the coffee table to grab the file, giving Pete a suspicious glance as he walked past him for the second time. The PI maintained his position, back turned toward the kitchen, smiling to himself at Jacoby's antics as he heard the kitchen door open and then swing shut.

Pete figured it would take just a few minutes for Jacoby to have his conversation with Carson but fifteen went by before the cop finally reappeared and somewhat reluctantly placed the case file back on the table. As he began buttoning his coat in preparation to head back out into the fine mist that was falling he turned to the PI.

"I know it must be rough on you not being able to remember what happened. You like the details. That's who you are. I understand that." He paused, retrieving his hat from the chair, his thoughtful gaze on his friend's face. "I only want what's best for you, Pete."

The detective could swear he almost heard an apology in there somewhere but he wasn't convinced of it. He stood at ease, hands clasped in front of him as he returned Jacoby's solemn gaze.

"I'm a big boy, Lieutenant. I don't need to be pampered."

"Sure, Pete." The policeman's eyes slid over him as though looking for an answer to an unasked question. Then he nodded, tapping his hat against his thigh a few times before bringing it up and intently checking the brim. "I'm sorry about Leopold showing up on your doorstep yesterday afternoon. He's a real shyster but he still knows better than that. The boys brought him in this morning on harassment and tampering charges and the D.A. threw the book at him but he's out on bail already. That's just the way it goes." He watched as Pete nodded. "I should go. Crime waits for no man." He tried a smile at his own joke but it barely broke through his almost expressionless demeanor.

"I know you like to get to the precinct early but this is ridiculous." Pete teased, his eyes smiling at his friend. "You don't have time for just one cup of coffee?"

"I had one while I spoke with the doctor." Jacoby settled his hat on his head at just the right angle, eyeing the other man all the while, his mouth straightening with dry humor as Pete's head went back and an eyebrow went up. "How's the head? Are you sure you'll be able to get through that file all right?"

"I'm fine. I'll manage."

"I imagine there will be a few things in there you won't be happy about." The Lieutenant shoved his fisted hands into his coat pockets. "And I'm sure you will have questions..." he continued with a long-suffering sigh and a knowing yet almost imperceptible shake of his head, "...lots of questions. You know where to find me if you want to talk about any of it."

Pete's only reply was a slight nod, the barest tipping of his chin.

"That file needs to be back in my office Monday evening."

Again a nod from the PI, this one a bit more pronounced, and he followed behind Jacoby as the cop turned to leave.

"See you, Pete." He favored his friend with his own brief nod as he slipped out of the apartment.

Pete stood where he was for a few moments, going over the conversation in his mind, wondering at the strangeness he felt. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs then looked up at the sound of an amused voice.

"Is it all right if I come out now?" Joe Carson stood in the kitchen doorway, the coffee pot in one hand and two mugs in another. Pete chuckled.

"Yeah... and thanks."

"For what?" Carson allowed the kitchen door to swing shut behind him.

"For whatever it was you said that convinced him to leave that file with me."

The doctor shrugged.

"He asked if I thought it was okay for you to read it and I said yes."

"That took fifteen minutes?"

"That took about ten seconds. The other fourteen minutes and fifty seconds were spent discussing how the fish are biting down at Eagle Springs." Carson set the coffee pot on the bar and smiled as he extended a mug toward his new friend. "Coffee?"

He knew exactly when she opened her eyes and began to drowsily watch him. And she knew he knew. And he knew she- Well, they both knew. The quiet rustle of pages being turned was suddenly not as quiet and his stealthy movements as he tried not to wake her became less pronounced. He was sitting up in bed, his pillow and an extra one from the closet placed behind his back, fingers restlessly flipping papers bound in a brown file folder. When he'd finally made it up to bed Thursday night Edie had been asleep on top of the covers, the bedroom phone she had used to call Mama and Papa Hart still on the bed next to her, and he had somehow managed to get her under the blanket before crawling into bed beside her and falling right to sleep. The night before that she'd been working, Mother and the guys and the patrons of the club enjoying her presence while he was lying here beneath the sheet trying to sleep but wishing the whole while that she was lying next to him. Tonight he sat up talking with Pop for a while then helped him unfold the sofa bed before following Edie upstairs. She'd been sleeping soundly but at least she was beside him, the warmth of her body seeping into his as she lay against his side, one bare leg curved between both of his the result of her instinctive turn toward him as he took possession of his side of the bed.

"Are you going to read all night?" Her sleepy voice was muffled into her pillow.

Edie didn't ask what he was reading and Pete didn't mention what it was. Again it was something they both knew the other knew. She had noticed the file lying on the end table next to his new chair when she and Pop came home that afternoon. Pete had mentioned that Dr. Carson had come by for a visit and an impromptu physical exam and had stayed for a while and that Lieutenant Jacoby had stopped by for a few minutes. Carson would have had no reason to leave a file behind. Lieutenant Jacoby would. Her gaze had sought out Pete's when he mentioned the policeman and from the look they exchanged she had known without a doubt what the folder contained. She had felt her heart speed up and thump uncomfortably against her chest as it had done on so many occasions during that week he was gone. She would do anything to keep him from knowing the pain of those days, to keep him from the knowledge he was consciously seeking. But she also knew, Pete being Pete, that he wouldn't rest until he remembered what happened to him and could fit those memories to the facts of the case, to the black and white of the papers contained in the file his friend had delivered to him.

"Maybe." He wouldn't read all night. He couldn't. His head was tired and his eyes felt grainy and the words were swimming around on the paper. But his lips straightened into a little smile and he turned over another sheet of paper and his gaze remained fixed on the page as he continued. "Unless you can come up with something better for me to do."

Edie's lips twitched as she became more fully awake. Her gaze raked over her bedmate's bare chest and broad shoulders, the fading bruises along his ribs and a couple of almost healed scrapes on the inside of one arm reminding her that he was still a little worse for wear, then drifted to the waistband of the blue and white striped boxers just visible above the blanket that was bunched up around his waist. Pushing her own pillow out of the way she sat up, settling herself comfortably at his side and nudging him to move over so his pillows could accommodate both of them.

"Pete." Her eyes drifted to the alarm clock on his nightstand, its slowly moving hands telling her it was almost one in the morning. In the normal scheme of things this would be their busiest time of day, Pete out on a case and her on stage at Mother's singing to the beat of the combo. But these recent days had been anything but normal. She wanted that personal and intimate normal back again.

A noncommittal humming sound came from the man's throat as he continued perusing his reading material. He was either engrossed in his study or was pretending to ignore her. Edie's eyes narrowed suspiciously and she reached out a hand to cover the page he was looking at.

"Sorry lady..." He took her hand as though to move it aside but instead turned it over, his thumb rubbing along her soft skin. "Palm reading isn't in my field of expertise."

Edie watched his fingers tangle with hers. Meanwhile Pete's eyes admired the hazy pink color of the nightie she was wearing, the straps clinging tentatively to her shoulders, the lacy front slipping down to reveal the subtle curve of her breasts. He drank in her sleepy blue eyes and the tangled mess of her hair. The loveliness of this woman never failed to amaze him. The blonde leaned in closer.

"What is your field of expertise?" she teased, offering him a coy look through her eyelashes.

The gentle softness of the clinging kiss he laid upon her lips held an erotic overtone that outshone any more heated or impassioned caress he might have shared with her. Her lips were tingling when he finally pulled away, her face flushed and warm, that singular awareness that only Peter Gunn could evoke coursing through her body.

"Oh Pete..." Her smile was a thing of beauty. "Lip reading?"

An indulgent smile graced the man's lips as he slipped the police file shut and dropped it to the floor. He reached and switched off the lamp, an arm wrapping around Edie as he scootched under the covers, taking her with him and pulling the pillows down into place beneath their heads.

"Tired?" Pete touched his lips to Edie's temple as she made herself comfortable against his side and wrapped her arm around him, her head eschewing the pillow for the comfort of his shoulder.

"It has been a long day." Edie smiled into the darkness.

"Hmm," he commiserated. "I guess that means you're not interested in making out." He felt her smile against his cheek as she tipped her head to squint at him. He could detect the soft glow of her eyes resulting from a small shaft of light filtering through the open window. She smelled good. Like lavender and soap and bath powder. A girly aroma that assailed his senses.

"Somehow I got the distinct impression that activity was something you were saving for that nice big new bed," the woman chided.

"Well..." His lips teased hers, outlining them with tiny kisses. "I am. I just figured a little necking wouldn't do any harm." He tangled his fingers in her hair as her hand found his cheek, their lips meeting and moving in a lingering kiss. Edie gave a sigh when it finally ended, her fingers drifting across Pete's forehead, smoothing his hair, touching upon his mouth.

"I'll miss it," she eventually said, her voice low and tinged with an emotion somewhere between sad and amused.

"Miss what?"

"This bed."

"Honey, it's just a bed." Despite his words his arm tightened around her.

"Pete, no... it's not just a bed." She pushed up on her elbow to stare down at him. "It's-"

"It's what?" he asked when she didn't continue. It took her a while to answer.

"It's a part of you that you gave to me." He clasped her hand as her fingers curled around his. "A part of you where we've slept and made love and talked and laughed..." Her hand left his to trail along the warm smooth skin of his chest. "Where we've lain together like we are now and touched each other and shared secrets... somewhere away from the rest of the world and other people and work and responsibilities." She paused momentarily, her fingernails raking along his side before coming to rest on his shoulder. "I've always thought of this as the one place where we could hide from everyone and everything. The one place in the world that's just ours."

Pete's hand went to the back of her neck and he pulled her face to his, his lips finding hers in another kiss that was as gentle as the previous one yet held the firm promise of all those things she was talking about.

"And you tell me I'm the sentimental one," he teased as he released her.

His amused chuckle cut through the darkness as Edie's head found his shoulder again and she settled into the warmth of his side. His arm curved around her and pulled her closer.

"I can call Georgio in the morning and tell him we changed our mind."

"No, Pete." He felt the breath of her sigh against his skin. "I know I'm being silly. It's just that this bed holds so many memories."

"We're replacing the bed not the memories. And we'll make new memories." He reached for the blanket and pulled it up around them and closed his eyes and held this woman he loved. "Silly..."