Title: Peace & Music, Part II
Characters: Pete & Cady Townshend & baby, Roger Daltrey, Keith Moon, John Entwistle, Janis Joplin, Grace Slick, Jimi Hendrix
Word Count: 2,220
Rating: PG-13, mild nudity, drug use, language
Warnings/Spoilers/Summary: The Who descend on Woodstock, with Cady and baby in tow.

SPOILER ALERT: You will learn Pete & Cady's baby's gender and name [as it is August 1969].

Author's note: This IS canon with the epic.



The moment, though likely not to everyone, seemed to move in slow motion. Perhaps if Pete had not already kicked someone off his stage, it would have been different. But then again, who was she fooling? Pete always became territorial when he took the stage. If she didn’t know better, didn’t love him, she might perhaps fear him. But Pete was not his stage persona. She did not really know who that man was.

And that man had just batted Abbie Hoffman off the stage with his guitar, “Fuck off! Eh! Fuck off my fucking stage! ”

Cady’s eyes searched the press pit for Abbie. He got back on his feet, brushing himself off. He seemed about as dazed about the turn of events as she was. While her instincts were to go after the man and apologize for her husband’s behavior, Cady resisted.

Pete approached his microphone, “The next person who walks across this fucking stage is going to get fucking killed!”

Cady groaned, “Really, Pete?”

The crowd of stoned hippies laughed.

“You can laugh, but I mean it!”

Shaking her head, she sighed. That was going to come back to haunt him, she knew it.

Despite Pete’s tantrum, The Who’s set seemed to improve the closer to dawn they got. Playing Tommy in its entirety always seemed to transform the band. Seemingly, Mother Nature agreed for as Roger belted out ‘See Me Feel Me’ the sun crested the horizon, casting a warm morning glow upon the band. Even from the wings of the stage, Cady thought it impressive. They could not have timed it better.

Yet despite the turn of events, Pete was still full of angst. Though he was now expected to bash his guitar into pieces, Cady knew it was as much an art statement as it was an aggression statement. True to form, Pete hit his SG Special on the stage a few times and tossed it out into the audience before stalking towards her. Knowing better than to say anything, she stepped to the side and let Pete stomp down the steps. His boot collided with random chairs and any other small object in his path. If she didn’t do something soon, he could ride this wave of anger much longer than necessary.

“Pete!” she shouted after him, hurrying to catch up to his side.

He stopped, his angry blue eyes training on her, “Did you see that fucker who climbed on my st–”

Her mouth pressed against his to silence his words, “You were fantastic. The entire set was wonderful.”

“But–”

“And now we can go home and take a hot bath together,” she smiled.

His eyes instantly softened, “I’ll go and find out how soon we can get on the helicopter.”

“I’m going to run to the loo. I can’t wait any more,” Cady commented.

“I’ll take Audrey,” he offered, reaching for the baby.

“No, you won’t. You smell. And you’re bleeding. You know how I feel about you holding our daughter before bandaging your fingers,” she declared. “We’ll be right back.”

Standing in line at the Port-a-San, Cady shifted the baby to her other shoulder. If she thought she could, she would have waited until they were off the helicopter to visit the facilities, especially considering how poorly maintained the portable toilets had been – even for the performers. However, she had needed to go prior to The Who’s ninety minute set, so there could be no more waiting.



“Come on, Pete. It’s time to go,” John Wolff, the band’s road manager, stated.

His eyes widened, “We can’t go yet. Cady and Audrey aren’t back.”

“Look, Pete, I can maybe get them to wait a couple of minutes before we have to leave, especially since you’ve been arsed about being here at all. But if they’re not back when we have to take off–”

“We are not fucking leaving my wife and baby here,” he growled.

“No, no, of course not.”

Pete glowered, “Don’t even shit me about this, John. This is non-negotiable.”

“Of course, of course. Let’s just get the band over to the helicopter. Cady will know where to find us.”

The band headed over to the helicopter, instantly ushered inside. Fighting and cursing, Pete remained a few feet from the helicopter.

“If you don’t get in this fucking helicopter right now, you are stuck here,” one of the Woodstock officials declared.

“I am not going anywhere without my wife and baby!” Pete shouted. “Wait another fucking minute. She just went to the fucking loo, arsehole.”

“Look, Pete,” the road manager stepped in front of him. “Just get in the helicopter. We’ll send it back for Cady and Audrey. She won’t be left behind.”

“Like fucking hell she will. I am not getting on the fucking bird until my wife is he–”

“I’ll take care of it. Just go, Pete.”



Leaving the portable toilets, a fussy baby leaning against her shoulder, Cady headed back to where she left the band. The closer she got, the more nerves rose in her soul. Something was not right, at all. Just as she realized none of the four men of the band were around, Jimi Hendrix stepped in her path. Her eyes went to his and her breath caught – not because she was bewitched by him but rather she instantly recognized the disconnect of drugs in his pupils. This was not going to be a pleasant interaction.

“Baby,” he instantly reached for her.

Cady stepped out of his reach, “I am not your baby. I was never your baby.”

“Aw, come on, Cady. You know I lov–”

“No, you don’t. And if you fucking touch me Pete will–”

“Baby, Pete isn’t here. It’s just you and me… and I suppose the baby,” his dark eyes glanced at Audrey. “Is the brat Pete’s?”

Her eyes narrowed and her free hand instantly darted out and slapped him, “Fuck you, Hendrix. Stay the fuck away from me, my daughter, and my husband. Fuck you.”

Spinning away, she noticed a camera trained on them. While she really did not think it would harm her reputation or anything of in that manner, she headed over to the cameraman. His eyes met hers and he smiled sheepishly.

“I did not sign a release for any footage of me and my baby to be used in your film. Should either she or I appear in any media released by this festival, I will sue without a second thought,” she declared before walking pass the small film crew.

Her blue eyes searched the crowd, looking for someone, anyone she recognized. While the sea of faces was mostly recognizable, none of them were part of The Who. Where was the band, her husband? Had they left without her?

Stopping someone wearing a black Woodstock shirt, she inquired about the location of The Who. He looked at her for a long moment.

“Babe, The Who split fifteen minutes ago.”

“They left?”

He nodded and started to walk away from her.

Cady’s hand shot out to him, “What am I supposed to do?”

He shrugged, “That’s not my problem, babe. Not my problem at all.”

As he began to walk away, Cady looked around at the people who could care less that she was stranded with her infant daughter. She had nothing with her; Pete had the bag with all of Audrey’s things in it. The more she looked around for someone or something that could help her, the more panic began to fill her. What was she going to do? She could not stay there. Not at all. Where could she go? How could she escape?

Tears began to well up in her eyes. She hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours. She had an infant to care for. And was firmly stuck in an disaster area.

“Honey?” 

Her teary eyes went to the voice. Blinking the tears ran down her cheeks, clearing her vision slightly. Even with clear eyes, she did not truly recognize who was speaking to her.

“Honey, why are you crying?”

“B-because th-they l-left m-me… u-us h-here,” she stuttered.

“Who, honey?”

Cady wiped her cheeks before cuddling her daughter, “My husband and his band.”

The woman slipped her arms around Cady’s shoulders, “Then let’s see how we can get you reunited. Let’s get you out of here.”

Paying little attention to where she was lead, she wiped her tears again and tried to calm herself. She did not need to be crying; it did nothing for her at all. Slowly she was guided away from the melee of the crowds around the stage. Though the loud tunes of Jefferson Airplane still filled the air, the buzz of people faded. The further they got from the crowd, the more Cady calmed. Guided to a seat by the woman, she pulled Audrey to her and kissed the baby’s forehead.

“Don’t worry, little one. We’ll be with Daddy soon,” she muttered softly.

A few minutes later, the woman returned, “All right. The helicopter will be leaving right after Jefferson Airplane’s set. We will make certain you are on it.”

“But what if there isn’t any room?”

“We’ll get you out of here. Don’t worry.”



Pacing angrily Pete kicked a random wall. He was completely pissed. They left without his wife and daughter. He was going to kill someone, anyone wearing a Woodstock shirt seemed a likely target. They fucking left without his wife and infant daughter.

“Mr. T-Townshend?” a nervous voice spoke, drawing his attention.

Pete whirled around, noticed the black shirt, and picked up a nearby folding chair. Without thought, he hurled it towards the young man, who ducked in time. The chair slammed into the wall.

“What the fuck do you want?” he growled.

“Um… your wife… they found… your wife,” he squeaked. “She should be here in about th-thirty minutes.”

“Prove it.”

“Um… I c-could see if I c-can g-get her on the r-radio?” he offered.

“Do it.”

The young man nodded and quickly scurried out of the room. John passed him in the doorway, glancing at the petrified youth briefly. His eyes flicked to the broken chair against the wall before looking to Pete. He calmly unfolded the other chair in the room and sat upon it.

“She’s going to be fine, Pete,” he stated calmly.

“THEY LEFT MY WIFE AND BABY THERE!” he howled.

“And I am certain both are fine and will be here shortly,” John claimed. “Everything will be fine.”

“We never should have bloody come,” he glowered before returning to his angry pace. “We should be in bloody England, not in this godforsaken acid country.”

“Pete,” he spoke calmly, “everything will be all right. You will see. Cady will be here shortly and she will assure you that all was fine while you were apart. Stop your worrying.”

He whirled, clearly intent on swinging or throwing something again. However, in that moment the young boy stepped back into the room, flinching slightly. In his hand was a radio. Wordlessly Pete stomped over and held his hand out for the radio.

“Mrs. Townshend? I have your husband here.”

“Pete?” her voice cracked through the small speaker.

Snatching the radio, he pressed on the button, “Are you okay? Is Audrey okay?”

“We’re fine. We’re going to take the next helicopter to you. We’re fine. Stop beating everyone up.”

“What makes you think I’m beating everyone u–”

“Because I know you, Pete. We will see you soon, my love. I promise.”

“I love you, Cady.”

“I love you too, Pete.”

Handing the radio back, he did not apologize but returned silently to his stalking. John shrugged at the youth and lit a cigarette. At least Pete had not bashed the kid’s head in like a guitar. That had to count for something.



Ducking out of the helicopter, holding a blanket over Audrey’s head, Cady hurried away from the machine. Waiting until she was out of the wind caused from the helicopter, she looked up in the morning sun for her husband. A door opened in the nearby hotel and out he stepped. Without pause, she ran as fast as she could while holding onto the baby. Pete too took off sprinting towards her. The two of them collided in the middle of the parking lot, he wrapping his arms around both of his girls and showering them with kisses.

“I thought I lost you,” he muttered.

“I told you that you would never lose me, Pete,” she whispered, though tears did glisten on her cheeks.

“I did for awhile there,” he claimed and kissed her again.

Keeping her eyes closed, she took a deep cleansing breath of the scent of him before responding, “Can we go home now?”

“Absolutely.”

Seated in the back of a car with John who instantly took over duty of holding the baby, Pete pulled Cady into his arms, almost as if he was afraid to lose her even in the car. She did not mind at all, enjoyed it even. His arms holding her seemed to chase away all the negativity of the festival, from the acid in everything to being left behind to running into Jimi. A kiss by Pete on her temple made it all go away.

They never should have gone to Woodstock.