I don't own the characters and make no monetary profit from this story. Peter Gunn and Edie Hart own each other. I wish I could tempt him away from her but that will never happen.

Thanks bunches to Melchy for helping out with some questions I knew she'd have the answers to. Special thanks to Pete and Edie for being such wonderful characters to write for.

A Lifetime in Eight Days

Chapter 32: Conversations and Revelations

Thomas jumped up on the bed and claimed a spot on the quilt next to Edie. He turned around in place exactly three times before plopping himself down, the warmth of his body quickly permeating the covers and the muted rumble of his purr filling the room. The blonde reached a hand to gently ruffle the feline's soft orange fur and gave a smile at the feel of the little cat's rough tongue on her hand and the nip from razor-sharp teeth that followed. He was in a playful mood, grabbing at her fingers and then rolling over to let her rub at his stomach before falling into that sudden sleep that tends to grip cats so unexpectedly. He lay there on his back with his legs outstretched, his chin tilted in her direction, his dark eyes closed to mere slits. Edie smiled fondly, wondering not for the first time how she had ever managed to spend eleven years on her own without the companionship of a pet before Pete had shown up with the scraggly kitten that had been part of Loretta Gymps' menagerie. That had been almost a year ago now.

Maybe she just hadn't needed that type of companionship before. Before Peter Gunn. In the years previous to meeting him she'd been on her own, had been involved in a couple short-lived relationships that went nowhere. Relationships that resembled nothing beyond naive schoolgirl crushes when she took the time to compare them with what she had with Pete. She hadn't known what it was like to love a man so completely that being apart from him for just one day could cause loneliness enough that it took the next week to make up for the loss. And three days or a week away from him were like a slow death. Thomas had helped her make it through days and weeks like that. Many recent weeks in particular.

"Pete?" Her thoughts and her fingers returned to the jeweler's box on her lap.

"Hmm?" The man in question poked his head out of the bathroom, brushing his teeth as he looked at her where she sat against the headboard. She was wearing something blue and cottony and his eyes admired the way she looked framed against the coral pink of the pillow behind her back. Sometime during the previous night they had arrived at a happy medium where the color of the bed linens was concerned. He paused in his action and waited for her to continue.

"Are you sure your dad really wants me to have these?" Edie ran gentle fingers over the double strand pearl necklace lying against the blue velvet interior of the box. The clasp was of small diamonds and blue sapphires. A bracelet and pair of matching earrings lay in a separate box on the nightstand.

"He really wants you to have them," Pete assured her, speaking around the toothbrush.

"They're so personal," she murmured. "So sentimental. I don't want him to regret giving them away."

Pete went back into the bathroom and rinsed with water and a swig of Lavoris and then rejoined Edie in the bedroom. He lifted the cat from his warm spot atop the covers and deposited him on the chair. Then he sat down on the side of the bed.

"He didn't give them away," he said. "He gave them to you."

"He tried to hide it but I could tell it was difficult for him. He must have felt like he was giving away a part of your mother." Her eyes were overly bright and he sensed a quiver in her voice.

Pete gently removed the jeweler's box from her hands and replaced the lid.

"This box has been kept in the same corner of the same drawer of the same bureau in his bedroom for the past sixteen years. Did he mention that?" He offered up a crooked smile when Edie shook her head. "He gave them to her on her birthday one year. I must have been nine, maybe ten I guess. He showed them to me and asked me what I thought and I remember just shrugging and telling him I guessed they were okay." Pete gave a weak grin. "I was a kid. What did I know about jewelry and what women liked?"

"You've come a long way," the blonde observed with a watery smile.

"Pop said they needed wearing and until now there was no one to do that." He offered up his own smile and gathered the other box and slipped both into the nightstand drawer. He shrugged off his t-shirt and took it into the bathroom to throw into the hamper then pulled back the covers and slid into bed next to Edie, sitting beside her and leaning so that their shoulders rubbed. "He told me they must have been waiting for you to come along."

It was still early and she had a book out and he wanted to give one last look through the police file before he handed it back to Jacoby the next day. But he allowed his eyes to roam her profile, his gaze eventually settling on the little pulse beating softly at the base of her throat. She turned her head slightly and gave him a sideways look and what for her passed as a shy smile.

"That was nice of him to say, Pete." Her eyes searched his face. "Your dad barely knows me. What if I disappoint him? What if he ends up wishing he never gave them to me?"

"He knows you." That was all he had to say. Those words and the intensity of the truth in his eyes spoke volumes.

His eyes drifted to the blue thing she was wearing and he recognized it for what it was, her comfortable old "Not tonight, honey, it's that time of the month" pajamas. His gaze lingered a moment and his lips took on a humorous slant. Nothing to worry about there, the PI thought, wouldn't be happening anyway. Not with Pop within shouting distance downstairs. He decided Edie did look a little peaked. Pushing the covers back he got out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"Be back in a few minutes."

Downstairs Pete found his dad in the kitchen nursing a cup of instant coffee and reading the evening newspaper. Finding the kettle still half full he turned on the burner, grabbed a mug from the cabinet and dug in a canister for a tea bag. As he dropped a couple sugar cubes into the mug he caught sight of his boxers and briefly wondered if he should have pulled on a robe or pajama pants before coming downstairs. The bright red and white vertical stripes weren't something he would have picked for himself but Edie had gotten a kick out of giving them to him. She called them 'crazy' and he guessed they were. Pop evidently thought so too as he caught him staring when he turned around.

"I recall the days when if they weren't white you wouldn't wear them," Frank observed. He smiled when his son just shrugged then watched as Pete retrieved the whistling kettle and poured boiling water into the mug. "And since when are you a tea drinker?"

"It's not for me." He found a jar of honey in the cabinet and added a spoonful for good measure. Not having a lemon handy he added about a tablespoon of juice from a bottle in the refrigerator.

"Seems awfully sweet."

"She won't notice." Pete's lips slanted into a half smile as he pulled a bottle of Jameson's Irish Whiskey from the top shelf of the cabinet and tilted it in his dad's direction before pouring a good finger of the liquor into the mug to complete the concoction. He touched the side of the mug and decided it was still a little too hot to drink. "She'll be out like a light."

"Edie did seem a little quiet this afternoon," Frank mused, taking a long draught of his own lukewarm coffee. "Barney mentioned the flu has been going around. Is she coming down with something?"

"Nothing she hasn't had before," the younger man blandly replied.

"Oh. Hmm..." Frank seemed momentarily confused before the meaning of Pete's words finally dawned. "Oh. That." He set his cup down and folded the newspaper and ran the fingers of one hand through his graying hair. Pete could swear he saw his dad blush. He chuckled and opened his mouth to say something but was forestalled.

"I have a confession to make," Frank told him. And yes, he did seem a bit embarrassed. He ran his fingers through his hair a second time then pulled at his earlobe. "The other day when you were still in the hospital, I think it was Tuesday..." He leaned back and folded his arms across the front of the robe he had borrowed from Pete's closet. "I came back here to take a shower and get a few hours sleep and I inadvertently..." He cleared his throat. "I ran across some of her things in the upstairs bathroom and I guess I got a little curious."

"Curious." Pete tried to hide a smile. Curiosity seemed to be the family failing.

"I wasn't being nosy."

"I know, Pop." Pete turned to touch his hand to the mug again as the smile spread. Still too hot. He turned back to his dad, his face composed.

"I was looking for something I needed," Frank excused himself. "I left home in such a hurry I'm surprised I remembered to pack at all. I opened a cabinet and pulled out a box and happened to look at it..." He cleared his throat and described his experience with the box of tampons. "Things certainly have changed over the last fifteen years or so haven't they?" His face was somber but his eyes smiled as Pete couldn't help but laugh.

"Have they?" The younger man gave an amused grimace. "I have to admit I never gave any of that much thought before I met Edie. As it is I just try to keep my distance from most of those things and pretend I don't see them."

Frank chuckled and said he didn't blame him. He also hoped the girl hadn't noticed that anything was amiss, telling his son he'd considered apologizing to her at the time but had a hard time figuring out what he might say. And unlike Pete she might have thought he was being nosy and he didn't want her to get that impression.

"Don't worry about it, Pop."

"If you say so."

"Why did you come back?" The PI's expression became suddenly serious.

His dad looked confused.

"You came back to the hospital." Pete leaned against the counter and folded his arms against his bare chest and gave the older man an intent look. "You were barely gone and then you were there again. Edie was with you and I could tell she'd been crying but you told me to let her be." Uncertainty clouded his eyes for a moment. "I didn't dream that."

"You didn't dream it." Frank rubbed the back of his neck as he considered what to say. He'd known Pete would eventually bring up the subject and had gone through different scenarios in his mind regarding how he might be able to answer his son's questions. Of course he hadn't figured it would happen at ten o'clock at night in the kitchen with him in his borrowed robe and Pete in his festive boxers. It was almost laughable. Except it wasn't. "I told Edie to call if she needed me." He shrugged. "She called," he continued, as if those two words explained everything.

Pete tried hard to concentrate on the previous Tuesday. It was only five days ago. Under normal circumstances he would be able to remember everything that went on during a day that recent, but some things that should be easy were still a blur. It frustrated him to no end. Jacoby had been there, he knew that much, droning on about things he couldn't call to mind. Edie had been there too but had said something about getting coffee and left him alone with Jacoby. Not alone. Dr. Carson had been there. What he did clearly recall was the sharp pounding in his head and the feeling of intense dizziness that had suddenly washed over him, his stomach roiling and bile rising in his throat, being on his knees in front of the toilet.

He remembered seeing Jacoby's hat lying on the chair the policeman had been sitting on and a mug of hot coffee on the tray between the bed and wheelchair. Somewhere along the line Edie had returned with his promised cup of coffee and Jacoby had disappeared, uncharacteristically leaving his beloved fedora behind. But it had been gone later so the Lieutenant had apparently come back to retrieve it at some point. Or Pop or Edie or one of the nurses had taken it to the nurses station figuring he'd show up for it.

The PI gave an outward sigh and rubbed at the back of his neck, his gaze on the beige and blue floor tiles as he tried to stave off an impending headache. Edie had eventually returned, slipping into his hospital room ahead of Pop as the man held the door for her. Her eyes, which she tried to avoid him seeing, had been rimmed with red and her nose had been pink and shiny. She'd been crying, that was obvious, he could see that from across the room. He wasn't a private investigator for nothing. And he certainly wasn't blind when it came to her.

Sometime between him heaving his lunch into the bathroom toilet and Edie and Pop returning to the room something had happened. And it involved his friend Jacoby. Pete wasn't unaware of the blow hot blow cold relationship between his girl and his friend. He remembered Edie once telling him, it seemed eons ago now but was in reality just over a year, that Jacoby didn't like her. He recalled laughing at her insistence that Jacoby saw her as 'competition for his affections' as she put it. Turned out she'd had a point. The policeman's attitude when she was around or if Pete happened to mention her name was often dismissive. Pete figured it would come to a head one of these days but had shoved any thoughts of how that might happen to those dark and shady places at the back of his mind. What would be would be. And whatever the reason or the outcome Jacoby would take a back seat to Edie. She was the most important thing in his life and nothing would ever change that, not even his feelings for his longtime cop friend.

"Jacoby said something didn't he?"

Frank's expression didn't change as he looked at his son. Another question he'd planned for but hadn't given thorough thought about how to answer. Those thoughts during the past week had been mostly taken up with appreciating the fact that his son was alive and somewhat well. Allowing his mind to become occupied with anything else didn't seem something he could justify to himself. He could pass on to Pete the few salient facts he'd gotten from Jacoby but what good would that do any of them? And he certainly had no desire to get involved in what was a personal matter between his son and his friend and a private matter between the kids. He'd long ago discovered that trying not to interfere in your child's life was the absolute hardest thing to do as a parent. You raise them, you try to instill ethics and responsibility and love, but at some point you have to let go and allow them to live their own lives and make their own mistakes and find their own joys.

He could prevaricate and obfuscate. He remembered being pretty darn good at that when he worked for the government. It came in handy when dealing with moonshiners and bootleggers. So he just shrugged and attempted to be as vague as possible.

"I asked Edie at the time if she wanted to talk about what had her so upset but she said no. I didn't push her." He reached for his mug and drained the last mouthful of coffee, eyeing his son benignly as he set the mug back on the table. "I figured she'd eventually talk to you if she thought it warranted discussion."

Pete's eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he stared at his dad. He rubbed at his face with both hands and wished suddenly that he had a cigarette. He hadn't had a smoke since he had been home, and obviously hadn't in the hospital. He'd gone as long and longer without cigarettes before. He tried to stop the habit on occasion, knowing he'd probably be better off if he did quit, but the ache for one during a particularly tough job usually ended the experiment. He remembered with a sudden clarity craving one a couple times when he was lying in that cold dark basement, wondering if maybe they'd somehow overlooked the pack of Luckies he always carried in his breast pocket...

His unseeing gaze was riveted on Pop, the motion of his hands stopping, leaving his face half covered, his eyes staring over the top of his fingers. Where had that come from? He heard his dad say something else but didn't respond, trying instead to dig deeper into his subconscious for an answer to his question. It never came and he was finally brought back to the present by the elder Gunn's voice asking him if something was wrong.

"What? No, nothing's wrong. I just-" Pete shook his head, irritated at himself for letting that thought slip away, that memory, that inkling of everything he wanted so desperately to remember. With an inward sigh he gathered up the hot toddy he'd concocted for Edie and told Frank goodnight.

Pete paused in the kitchen doorway and turned halfway around.

"Oh, and Pop..." An amused smile tilted his lips. He happened to be a post-graduate at prevarication and obfuscation too, among other things. "Don't think I didn't notice you evaded my question. Nice save."

Edie looked up curiously as Pete opened the bedroom door, her eyes lighting on the mug he carried, a tender smile curving her lips as she recognized his thoughtfulness. Even in his worst times he tended to think of her before anything else. She put her book down, placing it page-first on the quilt so she wouldn't lose her place, and accepted the mug as he handed it to her, the almost hot stoneware warming her hands. She brought it to her mouth and swallowed a sip, grimacing at the taste yet enjoying the feeling of the liquid slipping down her throat.

One.

Pete maintained that it always took exactly five sips of this particular beverage to lull her to sleep. It was her opinion that he was teasing her about that. She decided on the spot to test his allegations and prove he was trying to put one over on her. It certainly was good stuff once you got past that first swallow though.

"Pete." She allowed her head to find his shoulder as he slid back into the bed beside her, watching as he pulled the sheet and blanket up to his waist, trying to dislodge the feline who had made his way back to the foot of the bed.

"Yes, dear heart."

Edie smiled. She loved the way he said that, the manner in which the words fell from his lips. She would always be his dear heart. He had told her so in so many ways and on so many different occasions and when he hadn't actually said the words he had shown her with his mouth and his hands and his body. Peter Gunn didn't lie. He was an honorable man. A soft sigh escaped her lips. Which meant he was most likely right on the mark when he said five sips put her out like a light.

Two.

Mmm. That was better than the first. Still nice and warm but much more mellow. She could already feel that dull ache inside her begin to subside.

"Remember the time I had the flu and I sent you to the drugstore for tampons?"

"Vaguely," Pete muttered. How could he ever forget? It wouldn't exactly go down as one of his finest moments. He slipped his arm behind Edie's shoulders and and brought her in closer, making them both more comfortable against the pillows. He plucked the mug from her hands and tasted the toddy, wondering if he'd somehow overdone things with the Jameson's. She sounded like she was getting woozy. It tasted all right to him. He set the mug back in her hands.

"You were so embarrassed. You told me never to ask you to do anything like that again."

"I wasn't embarrassed," he denied. He would never admit to being embarrassed. A little flustered maybe, but that had been the extent of it. After all, he was a full grown man of the world. A man for hire. It took a lot more than picking up a few personal items for his girl to rattle his nerves. That was his story anyway. "And I don't recall saying that."

"Maybe not with your voice," she said, an engaging earnestness coloring her expression. "But it was written all over your face."

Pete idly wondered if there was a point to this conversation. With Edie one never knew. Surely she- His face took on an almost agonized look.

"Do you need me to run to the drugstore for something?" He put on a brave face. He could throw on some clothes and walk up the street to Miller's Rexall. Jack Miller was used to him coming in at odd hours and he didn't make other people's business his own business. Pete had frequented the drugstore even when he'd been in his old apartment and now it was conveniently just three blocks away. He supposed he could drop into the all-night doughnut shop on the walk back.

"No, Pete." She smiled and leaned in to give him a kiss. "I was just reminded of how nice you are to do things like that for me. I don't think most men would. Thank you." She raised the mug to her lips, her smile remaining in place as she gazed at him over the rim. The liquid wasn't quite as warm and the flavor of the whiskey had grown stronger.

Three.

Edie decided she felt really good, the toddy was working its magic. But she didn't feel sleepy. She was wide awake and enjoying a nice conversation with her lover. A fabulous warmth was spreading through her body, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She wiggled those toes then chuckled as Thomas magically woke from his slumber to pounce on them. Five sips! Ha! She'd be wide awake long after that and the cup would be empty and she'd prove Mr. Smartypants Gunn wrong.

"I'll miss your dad after he leaves." She gave him a glance from beneath drowsy lashes.

"So will I."

He watched as her hands tightened around the mug and she gave him her full attention. The primrose blue of her eyes was enough to mesmerize him every time.

"He reminds me of Papa." she made a face. "I don't know why. They don't favor each other or anything like that. They don't have the same mannerisms." Her shoulders lifted in a little shrug. "I just feel good around him. He makes me feel safe like Papa does."

Pete had an idea he knew why but he didn't say so. Joe Hart was a steady and easygoing man. He looked at life from a lot of different viewpoints, a habit he'd grown into during thirty-three years of driving a bus around his town. He was a lot like Jack Miller and the folks at Mother's and yes, Frank Gunn, in that he was slow to judge and quick to find the best parts of the people he met. He'd looked at Pete and had immediately seen the good in him, had recognized the younger man's undeniable love for his daughter. Papa Hart might not agree with the manner in which they conducted their relationship, but he knew his daughter had found the love of her life, and he couldn't fault either of them for that. Besides which he decided he liked Pete very much. But that didn't mean he didn't have some choice parting words for the PI when it was time for him and Mary Grace Hart to leave after their surprise visit six months prior. Just as Pop would undoubtedly have a few observations of his own before boarding his airplane Tuesday morning.

Four.

Edie lowered the mug and released a quiet sigh. She watched Thomas rise from his spot at the foot of the bed, stretch languorously and hop to the floor. One orange paw found the crack in the slightly ajar bedroom door and pulled it open just enough for the cat to slip through.

"I don't think Mr. Bartel is going to renew the lease on my apartment."

Her quiet words forced Pete's thoughts away from Papa Hart and prevented them from wandering further down that slippery road to the family members who didn't appreciate quite so much his presence in Edie's life. He tilted his head and looked into her face, irritation evidenced by the stony glint in his deep blue gaze.

"Why? Because of that silly fiasco with the corpse in the shower? It wasn't even your shower. You were only in that apartment because yours was being painted." The private investigator shook his head, offended the apartment manager would consider evicting Edie over an incident she'd had no control over. Bartel had always seemed somewhat overbearing but Pete hadn't thought he'd go that far. "He can't do that. I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"I don't think it would make any difference." Edie yawned and tried to keep her eyes from slipping shut. Maybe Mr. Smartypants was right after all. "He already gave me a letter of intent." At his questioning look she explained it had been in her mailbox when she had stopped by the apartment on Friday. She hadn't said anything because she didn't want to worry him. He had enough on his plate right now.

Five.

She fought back another yawn and nestled her head into his neck, enjoying the feel of his warm skin. The heat radiating from his body combined with the heat of the whiskey-laced drink to produce a feeling of intense lethargy and a growing need to close her eyes and let sleep take over.

"Edie..." Pete lifted her chin with the touch of a forefinger and waited for her to look at him. "It's my job to worry about you." Her bemused gaze brought a chuckle from the PI and he reached for the mug to set it safely out of the way before the remainder of the drink spilled onto the quilt. He moved her book to the nightstand, helped her scoot further under the covers and rearranged her pillow, telling her they'd talk about it tomorrow, then watched as her eyes closed and her breathing became a steady rhythm.

Slumber didn't come as quickly for him. He sat for another hour, flipping through the police file and listening to Edie sleep, before finally switching off the bedside lamp. He lay awake in the dark for an even longer time, his mind moving at a pace that wouldn't let him relax, his body tense beneath the bed covers. At some point he must have finally dozed off, only to be plagued by continuous dreams that were nothing but a jumble of disconnected thoughts and images.

Sometime toward dawn Pete awoke abruptly, eyes staring into the darkness, half awake and gasping for breath. It was raining. The pounding of large drops against the rooftops joined forces with the tapping of small pellets of sleet on the window, creating a rush of sound that seemed to be in competition with the howling wind to see which could make the most noise. He heard water dripping somewhere nearby. A constant drip, drip, drip. Thunder rumbled in the distance, masking the monotonous tone for a few seconds, then it was back again. The sound preyed on his subconscious. Drip, drip, drip. He knew that sound. He could almost place it. He just needed to concentrate.

He struggled to wake up fully but he couldn't move. Something was holding him down, something kept his arms from moving and wouldn't allow him to roll onto his back. He felt as if he was suffocating and then felt a cold panic at the sound of a voice. His fingers clawed at the surface he was lying on, his hands pushed at it in a rush of dread. Suddenly he was free and found the strength to turn over, striking out blindly as he felt cool hands touching his bare skin, grasping at him, fingernails biting into his shoulder. Pete tried to pull away, attempted to push at whoever or whatever was grabbing at him. But he didn't seem to have strength enough to get away.

Then he heard the voice again, closer and not camouflaged by the haze of sleep. He felt the hands, not grasping or rough but comforting and tender. And it was her voice and her hands, not theirs. He felt her body wrap around his, her arms sheltering him, her breath against his face as she spoke in a whisper.

"Everything is all right, honey. You're here with me." Edie ran her fingers over his hair, pushed it away from his forehead, smoothed the short spikes that stuck up in disarray courtesy of the pillow. His breathing was ragged and he was sweating. "You were having a nightmare. That's all it was, just a bad dream."

She released him and leaned across his body to switch the lamp on. The sudden glare of light was painfully bright and made Pete blink and turn his face away. Yet at the same time he was glad of it, glad to be released from the dark evil that had been suffocating him. Edie lay back down beside him and took him in her arms again and he wrapped his own around her, clutching her close and burying his face in the soft warm curve of her shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Pete almost had to laugh. She had turned his words around on him. But he just held her tighter and lifted his head to look into her eyes.

"I'm always okay when I'm with you."