Title: Don’t Look Away: Chapter Twelve, Illustration
Rating: R [language, alcohol]

Summary: Trusting Pete, Cady opens up her memories to him.






Strolling through aisles of art supplies, Pete could not help but smile. While he had enjoyed shopping with Cady for household furniture and the like, this was completely different. She walked the store twice, likely getting the feel of supplier first. On their third circuit through, she handed him a basket and kept her own steps slow. Though her fingers touched brushes and tubes of paint, she did not pick up anything and hand it to him. He did not think the magic of the store so great that she would be unable to choose supplies.

“Cady?” he spoke up softly when her fingers retracted yet again from a tube of paint.

Her blue eyes went to his, the slightest shimmer of tears threatening the edge of her lashes. Concern instantly filled his eyes and he set down the empty basket. His arms circled her, pulling her close. He did not understand it at all, but that did not matter. The moment he pulled her into his arms, she began to cry in earnest. His lips touched her temple but he said nothing, just let her empty her emotions out onto his shoulder.

Once her sobs became softer and less passionate, Pete leaned back and kissed her forehead before looking into her eyes, “Cady, my love, why do you cry?”

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Is this not what you want?”

“I… I do.”

He kissed her lips softly, “We can come back another time. Maybe we should go walk in the park?”

“I… okay.”

“Come, my love. Perhaps the sun will come out today and make you smile once more,” Pete declared, pulling out of the embrace to lead her from the store.

Within a few minutes the pair climbed out of Pete’s car after parking in a shady location near the arched entrance. Hand slipped in Pete’s, Cady turned his previous question over in her mind. Why had the art store brought her to tears? She loved to paint; it fed something in her soul. She had been ready to pick up brush and paint once more, had even felt that brief rush of euphoria smelling it upon entry of the store. But the longer they lingered, the more that plummeted. Why had it bothered her?

“Pete,” she muttered softly, drawing his eyes to hers as they walked beneath the tree canopy.

He stopped, turned to her and gently kissed her, “I love you.”

She smiled slightly, keeping her eyes closed, and pressed her forehead to his, “I love you too, Pete. I just…”

“Let us go sit by the fountain?” he suggested and began to lead her away without waiting for a response.

Sitting on the bench near the fountain, Cady took little time to pivot on the bench, her head nestled in Pete’s lap. His fingers instantly began to stroke her chocolate tresses, his eyes settled on her face. Though her eyes were closed, he watched the glimmer of a tear slip from between her dark lashes. With little thought, he reached up and wiped it from her cheek. He wanted to speak and draw out whatever made her cry, but he found that words were failing him once again. The night before had been so perfect; they had been so happy. How had waking up in his arms changed that so drastically? He understood her identity fear she explained in the dark hours of the morning, but did that still cling to her every thoughts? Is that why she cried?

“Pete, why am I so sad?” she asked softly, her eyes remaining closed.

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

“I have exactly what I have always wanted in you and now… now I truly feel that we are one… I should not be so sad,” Cady declared.

“It pains me greatly that you are sad, Cady. I… I feel responsible and I do not know why.”

“It is not your fault, Pete. Not in the least. You are wonderful and amazing and you love me so much it is hard to believe,” she stated. “I just…”

“What were you thinking in the store?”

Sighing she turned on her back so she could look up into his eyes, “That even if I paint, I will not amount to much.”

“Bullshit,” Pete instantly replied.

“Excuse me?”

“I am not going to mince words here, Cady. You are immensely talented. Immensely talented. I do not even understand how you can do what you do and I was in fucking art school. Fuck what everyone else has ever told you.”

“But Pete–”

“No. Listen to me right now, Cadence. You are talented. In fact I am certain you have more talent in your pinkie toe than I do in all my body. Fuck what everyone else has ever said to you before. They were merely jealous that they could not even begin to compete with you. And you know what? They were mean just to get you out of the way. They cannot compete so they took you out of the competition,” Pete claimed. “Fuck that. You are so much better than that, Cadence. You are.”

“But Pete–”

“No. I am right, Cady. You know I am,” his eyes held hers. “You know I am.”

“But everyone says–”

“Everyone is wrong,” he argued. “Did you not tell me last night that my nose is not something to be ashamed of? Everyone in my life has told me differently. If you’re going to use the excuse that everyone else has told you differently than I, then I can use the same argument.”

She fell silent and pivoted back onto her side. Her eyes focused on the droplets of water spraying from the fountain as she thought through his words. His logic was sound, at least superficially. She still thought she could dissect it, pull it apart. But the more she thought on it, the less she wanted to. Comparing his insecurity about his nose to hers about her painting had been very visceral and impacted her just the same. He was right.

Pushing up, which forced Pete’s hand to leave her hair, Cady quickly scrambled to straddle his lap, caring not that the action pushed her short shirt up. Her hands framed his face, her blue eyes holding his. Leaning forward, she gently kissed his nose and then his lips.

“You’re right. They are all wrong. I love you, Pete,” she muttered and kissed him again.

His arms circled around her back before sliding down to cup her ass and press her closer to him. Their kiss intensified, both losing sight of the fact they were in a very public park. Perhaps if an older matron had not walked by and clucked in disdain, they would have never remembered. Hearing that, Cady pulled out of the kiss, her eyes sparkling.

“Take me home, Pete.”



Slipping out of the bedroom while Cady dozed nude, Pete tiptoed into the kitchen. Though he had the culinary skill of a gnat, he fully intended to cook something for her. As he was hungry, he presumed she would be upon waking and did not think for a moment that she deserved to be the one cooking. He would pamper her as much as possible. She deserved it.

Though he really had little in mind and probably even less skill in doing so, Pete fumbled about the kitchen. Every utensil that slipped out of his hand and slammed onto the counter made him flinch. He really did not want her to wake before he finished the task.

With chicken in the oven and various things on the stovetop, he set to cleaning up his mess. Wiping the last of his dishes and then the counter, Pete checked on the items on the stove and decided they were done. He removed the potatoes from the heat, straining the boiling water into the sink with some difficulty. Setting the pan absently on the counter, he turned to the stove to turn it off. Lifting the pan to dump the softened potatoes into a bowl, he smelt the slightly acrid sent of melted plastic. His eyes darted down to the counter and he cursed quietly to himself. He had burned a rather nice ring into the formica countertop, something he doubted was easy to fix. But he could not worry about it now. He needed to finish dinner.

After seasoning the potatoes and covering them, Pete checked the chicken and decided it was about done as well. Finding a hot plate to protect the counter from the pan, he retrieved the chicken from the oven. Slicing into the larger breast slightly to make certain it was no longer pink, Pete smiled to himself. Already he knew it was going to be a successful meal. The chicken and potatoes were done. A crispy salad waited in the fridge. The only thing he did not have was dessert and that bothered him. But perhaps he would take Cady out for dessert. It seemed like a viable solution.

Setting it all out on their small dining table and checking once more to make certain everything was turned off, Pete headed back into the bedroom. Crawling up the bed, he kissed her flesh from hip to lips, rousing her lovingly. With a smile her arms circled his neck and she kissed him deeply.

Pete pulled back, “Dinner is ready, my love.”

“Hmmm?”

“Come,” he pulled out of her arms and retrieved a silk robe from the hook in the bathroom, holding it open.

Rolling out of bed she slipped into the garment, her nose suddenly picking up the scents of food, “Did you cook, Pete?”

He kissed her ear as his arms wrapped around from behind to close the robe, “I did.”

“In your shorts?”

He chuckled, “I did.”

“Mmm, that would have been delightful to see.”

Laughing a bit more heartily, he moved around her, his hand in hers, “Hopefully the result is in fact better than the mess it created.”

Her eyes went to the flickering candles at the table, the only light in the apartment once Pete flicked off the bedroom light. Dancing from the plates to the glasses of wine, she grinned. He kissed her as he eased her into her chair.

“Bon apetite, madam,” he muttered before slipping in the chair next to hers.

“Oh, Pete, this looks wonderful,” she complimented, reaching for her knife and fork. “I am certain it is just as tasty.”

Watching with baited breath as she sliced the chicken and took the first bite, Pete waited for her reaction. Knowing he was waiting for feedback, Cady chewed extra slow, her eyes watching his watch her mouth. Swallowing, she reached for her glass of wine, remaining silent.

“And?”

“That decides it,” Cady declared, setting the glass back down.

“Decides what?”

“Quit The Who. I am hiring you as my own personal chef,” she stated.

Pete smiled, “So it’s okay?”

Leaning over, she kissed him quickly, “It’s wonderful, Pete. Thank you.”

He grinned, “I am so relieved. I had no idea what I was doing.”

“The burn on the counter illustrates that statement,” she stated casually before turning back to her meal.

His eyes widened, “You noticed that already?”

“Of course I did, silly. I’m not blind. And I am sitting about six feet away from it,” she responded.

“Oh,” he glanced over at the counter. “It’s all right.”

She rolled her eyes, “We’ll have to replace it when we move out, Pete.”

He turned back to the table, “I’m sorry.”

Setting her fork down, Cady reached over and patted his hand, “It’s all right, Pete. It’s just a counter. And most certainly worth this surprise.”

“But, I–”

“What do you have planned afterwards?” she cut him off.

“Well I did not make any dessert, so perhaps a walk somewhere nearby for something?”

Cady quickly leaned over and kissed him, “That would be lovely.”



Lounging on the couch, her head in Pete’s lap while he read some book a friend gave him prior to going on tour that he had not touched until finding it a box that afternoon, Cady closed her eyes and focused on Pete’s breathing. She loved how she could just be with him, not even be doing anything, and feel completely at ease, completely natural. Everything about their relationship seemed effortless for the most part, especially if she compared it to her relationship with Jimi, the only other relationship she considered… well really, could she consider it a relationship?

“Pete?” she spoke softly, turning onto her back as she had in the park to look directly up at him.

Marking his page, he lowered the book, “I love you.”

She instantly smiled, “That’s not what I was expecting you to say.”

With his free hand, he caressed her cheek and smiled, “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“It might make it more,” Cady countered.

“True,” he nodded, his thumb running over her bottom lip. “What is it you would like to say to me, love?”

“I…” she lost words as she looked into his eyes for a moment. “How do you define a relationship?”

His mouth dropped open slightly, “Were you really just lying here thinking about the definition of relationship?”

“Kinda,” she answered, remaining lying where she was. “I was thinking how perfect it is to just be with you, even when we’re doing pretty much nothing. And how perfect I feel with you. And that led to how this relationship seems natural and perfect and effortless, which I can’t really compare with previous ones. And then I realized my previous relationship was with Jimi… but I don’t really know if you can call it a relationship. And the one before that… I guess was with my math teacher, though I did date boys in school. And… Pete…”

“I do not know exactly how to define relationship to you in comparison with the two you just listed. Your math teacher was raping you, so that most certainly was not a relationship. I do not know enough about you and Jimi to help, Cady,” he answered.

“I… If a relationship relates to sexual or romantic or emotional involvement like we have of all three, I … Jimi and I were so complicated, Pete.”

His fingers caressed her cheek once more, “Tell me something, Cady. I cannot help the confusion in your eyes without the knowledge.”

Pulling away from his touch, she sat up. Taking that as a good indicator, Pete permanently marked his page and set the book on the coffee table. Cady instantly curved into his arms, her fingers reaching for his. Pressing her palm flat to his, she measured her fingers to his, smiling at the fact her fingers were nearly as long though her hand was more narrow and delicate. They were so perfectly matched.

“Jimi had such angry hands…”


Six weeks. She had been living in the Chelsea Hotel with Jimi for six weeks. It was mostly a blur of drinking, drugging, and music, but she wasn’t complaining. She hadn’t felt so alive in ages. Jimi put her on a pedestal and seemed to dance about her. Whether or not he actually did, she didn’t know. But he certainly made her feel good, feel important. Maybe it was how he would stop in the middle of songs, find her in the audience, and give her a special smile, indicating wordlessly that he performed for her that night.

They kissed. Often. And if he asked or given her any other indication, she would have opened her legs and her heart to him. But Jimi had not yet pushed for more. She did not understand it, but she did not push it. Perhaps he wanted her for more than just sex. It was an odd idea, but it was there all the same. She would instead revel in his kissing and brief touches – though oddly when she thought about it, it always happened when they were out, never when they were home. She explained it away as they pretty much crashed as soon as returning to the Chelsea, but that did not sit well with her. Did he not want her?

Her blue eyes focused down on the guitar she was painting. Though Jimi had not told her to keep away from his guitars, she wondered if it was a mistake to be doing what she was. However it felt right, so she kept on painting. If he really had issues with it, she would just buy him another guitar. No big deal.

Setting aside the guitar to dry once she was satisfied with its decoration, Cady got to her feet. She wandered about the small room for a bit, but nothing else really struck her fancy at all. With a sigh, she turned and headed out into the hallway. Wandering down the slight corridor, she smiled crookedly as she passed open rooms with musicians hammering out tunes, artists slathering paint on surfaces, and writers bent over tables writing furiously. One room she lingered at a bit longer because an artist with a video camera moved about the room, apparently filming some art film scenes of the girl Nico. She thought his name might be Andy, but she was not entirely certain of that.

Pushing away from the art film room, Cady wandered about. Before long she was pulled into a random room and offered something. Without much regard, she accepted the pill and fell onto the bed with two other girls. The room soon began to swirl around her. Hands swept over her body and she had the distinct thought that she could not tell if they were removing her clothes or not. But it really didn’t matter. The ceiling was beautiful.

Before her eyes could focus on any one particular color or shape, a jolt of lightning shot through the room. In actuality, no storm had suddenly formed in the Chelsea Hotel, but rather Jimi had returned. As he had drank quite a bit before returning home, fire already filled his eyes. Finding his girl tripping in a bed, half-naked with two other girls did not sit well with him at all. His fingers circled her wrist and he plucked her off the bed. Cady giggled as she bumped into him. However even in her high, she knew when she met his eyes that laughing was very unwise. Her lips instantly sealed shut.

Saying nothing, he snatched her shirt from the bedpost and tugged her out of the room. Her head spun, but no longer in a happy manner at all. She just knew he was going to guide her into the wall and it would all be over. However Jimi pulled her up the stairs and into their room. She stumbled into the room and crashed onto the bed. Her fingers dug into the blanket, hoping it could at least keep her from sinking into oblivion.

Jimi turned her over brusquely. Her wild eyes went up to his, completely confused at what was going on. Was he finally going to fuck her? Would she even remember it in the morning? His fingers went to her exposed bra and he pulled, causing the fabric to tear between the cups. His hands roughly cupped her breasts, no skill or care in the action. Cady merely laid there, her eyes attempting to focus on the man with a rainbow nimbus around his head. His angry hands went to the waistband of her skirt and tugged at it.

“Ow, Jimi,” she muttered, feeling pain across her back where the skirt was.

His eyes focused upon hers. With a grimace, he pushed away from her, stumbling backwards to the opposite wall. His back slammed into the wall, knocking down one of Cady’s simple paintings. Both he and the artwork slid to the floor, his head falling into his hands. Confused but too high to do anything about it, Cady remained lying exactly where she was, as she was.

Which was exactly the same position she was in when she woke the next morning. To an empty room.



When she had started to sleep in the nude, he knew not. He knew it happened sometime after he began to sleep in chairs or on the floor or anywhere she was not. Intense guilt plagued his soul for his brusque treatment of her weeks before. She was a goddess meant to be worshipped, not a whore to be fucked. He could not do that to her. Ever. But he did not think he was properly equipped to touch her as she should be touched either. She was beautiful, inside and out. And he could not ruin that with his touch. He knew he could not. Sitting across the small hotel room from her, watching her as she slept, was painful, not only to his body but to his soul. He did want her; he always wanted her. But he could not have her. Not even when she lay so beautifully nude in the bed.

Grumbling to himself, Jimi got to his feet and made his way over to the bed. Kneeling beside it, his fingers reached up and brushed her dark brown hair from her face. He caressed her cheek and leaned forward, pressing his lips to her sleeping mouth. She stirred slightly, but her eyes did not open, something Jimi was immensely grateful for, not wanting to explain what he was doing nor why he could not do it while she was awake.

Standing back up, he glanced around the room. It was too early to head to the club to play, but he had to get out of that small room. He just could not stand to be near her, to sully her. He needed to get out and away before he did something he would regreat.

“I love you, Cady,” he breathed and hurried out the door.

Hearing her name, she stirred. But when her eyes fully opened, she found the room completely empty. Rubbing her eyes, she searched for any sign as to where Jimi could have gone, how long he had been and would be absent. Shaking her head, she turned over in the bed, not caring that the blanket fell from her. It would do nothing for the coldness inside of her anyways.

She did not understand it, not in the least. He seemed to burn so very hot and so very cold with her. Though he did not know, she had cut back on smoking, doping, and drinking since the night when he threw her around. Not that she feared Jimi, not in the least, but Cady merely felt she ought to be a bit more in control of things, of herself. Perhaps too, she would figure out Jimi if she was not stoned out of her mind all the time too.

Deciding that lying in the bed with only her thoughts as company would not do her any good, especially since Jimi’s guitar needed to be repaired by that evening, Cady rolled out of bed. She quickly gathered up her clothing and dressed before digging Jimi’s guitar out from under the rickety hotel bed. Having located a guitar store after they checked in and Jimi went off to wherever it was he disappeared to, she knew it would not take too long to fix his equipement. She would likely return to the dank hotel before he did, thusly keeping her secret funding of his art.

The repair went quickly. Cady did not really understand it much, but the repairman had said something about replacing the pickup. She did not even know what part of the guitar that was, but as long as Jimi could play that night, it made no difference. After paying for the repairs, she headed back towards the dingy hotel, figuring she could drop off the instrument and then return to the city for something to eat.

After slipping it back under the bed where Jimi had stored it, she turned back to the door to leave. As her fingers reached for the doorknob, the door swung open. For a long moment, she and Jimi stood silently, their eyes interlocked. Cady was half-afraid to break the eye contact, especially since he normally avoided meeting her eyes.

“I’m going to lunch. Would you like to come?” she asked softly.

“I… all right,” he agreed.

Though she was a bit surprised he agreed to it, as they normally spent so little time together, she smiled. Jimi held out his hand for her, leading her gently from the hotel room. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. It was such a simple and cute gesture – and seemed completely out of character for him. But she was not going to complain. Perhaps he had suddenly come to the realization that she was there and with him, supporting him in ways he really would never know about. Whatever the cause she actually felt like an honored girlfriend for once.
“You’re coming to the show tonight, right?” he asked.

Her eyes went to his as they paused outside the small café, “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because… because I have not been good to you,” Jimi stated. “You should not be good to me.”

Cady blinked twice, “I do not understand, Jimi.”

“Come. Let’s grab a bite and talk. I miss… talking to you.”


Remaining silent for a long while, waiting to see if she would continue her story, Pete turned the brief stories over in his mind. Her relationship with Jimi was clearly complicated, but he still felt very uneasy about it. Perhaps Jimi had loved her in his own way, but not in a way she needed or deserved to be loved. It was almost as if Jimi were ashamed to love her, but perhaps there had been something else at play that he did not see, that Cady could not explain as she too didn’t know.

“Cady, baby,” his fingers played with her hair, “I want the entire world to know I love you. I do not want to hide it, to keep you behind closed doors. Ever. And I will never, ever hurt you. You know that, right?”

Her eyes went to his, “I do. I trust you, Pete. I trust you more than I have anyone. I know you’re going to take care of me and love me forever. I just do.”

His fingers traced across her forehead, “You don’t have to say any more. I don’t need to know more about Jimi and you.”

“I… I think I want to tell you more. I want to tell you how it is I ended up here and found you,” she responded, sitting up. “But I also need a drink and to pee, not in that order.”

Pete chuckled and quickly kissed her, “You go use the restroom. I’ll make tea.”