FicWad

A/N: For Evie. Because she's the cow's hooves.
Thanks goes out to everybody who's been reading this far, especially to the reviewers! :)

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Chapter 6: Sneaking a peek or two



Pete is surprised not to have received a reply from his crazy fan. In neither of his e-mail inboxes, nothing on his websites either. No new calls.

He doesn't hear from her at all for days and on day 7 after the voice messages the whole incident is buried in the back of his mind under a pile of fuzzy fan memories.

"Dang it!"

Pete has to grin about his girlfriend's kindergarten swearing. He looks up from the laptop on his thighs, his back against the headboard of his bed.

Moe's digging deeper in her sleep-over bag and then gives up. "I forgot to bring a nighty. And I was so sure I put one in here," she says frustrated.

He points at one of his closets, "Just grab one of my t-shirts..." He smirks, "OR you could just sleep topless."

"Silly Peter... always speaking his mind," she sticks her tongue out at him. "That's gonna get you in real trouble one of these days, you know."

Pete returns to his screen and Moranne starts going through his selection of t-shirts. I can't believe his taste sometimes.

"Holy queen of cows!"

Moe's melodic laughter begins to fill the room.

Her boyfriend puts the laptop aside and crawls across his bed to the other side of the room where she's bending forward, shaking with chuckles, with a brightly-colored piece of fabric in her hands.

"/Profession: Being awesome/???" she manages to squeal between giggles. "Where'd you get this from?"

"Ah, that... I totally forgot about it. I should be throwing this out. I mean, look at it."

"Ha ha... I did. Was this a fan gift or something?"

Pete takes it out of her hands and grips her hips, the t-shirt slides to the floor.

"Yeah, came in the mail a little while ago... But let's talk about something different. Better yet, let's not talk at all," he lowers his voice and starts kissing her neck.

20 minutes later Pete is on top of her. As his motion abruptly stops Moranne looks up at him. He's staring at the wall in front of him, it seems as if his thoughts are a million miles away. Then he blinks.

"Pete?"

He lowers his eyes.

"Pete, is something wrong?"

His lips stretch into a casual smile, "No, nothing. Everything's fine, honey."

Moe props herself up on her elbows and places a soft kiss on his lips, "If you... that's fine."

The man sinks down over her, she feels his heavy breathing on her shoulder.





The next morning Pete takes out his trash, Phebe's t-shirt lands on top of the black plastic bag in the trash can. Lid on top.

After breakfast Moe kisses him good-bye and leaves. Pete decides to take another nap, he didn't exactly get a lot of sleep last night.

A headache causes him to wake up two hours later.

"Holy fuck," he groans and rubs his temples. It feels as if somebody had used his head as a punching ball.

He walks into the bathroom and splashes some cold water onto his face, pops in an aspirin. In the mirror he notices a stain on the chest of his t-shirt. He takes it off and throws it into the laundry basket.

Shuffling across his bedroom he notices that the bottom drawer of one his cupboards isn't completely closed. A piece of yellow stationary paper is sticking out.

Pete grabs it. It's two pages.


PHEBE
A note from -M-o-r-a-n-n-e- [A/N: this is supposed to mean that "Moranne" is crossed out/ ficwad won't let me use those HTML tags, sorry]

Pete,

I took the liberty of retrieving the t-shirt that I made and sent you FROM YOUR GARBAGE CAN.
I also took the liberty of fetching one of the items from this drawer. (I know that's where you keep your favorite clothes.) It's the Nightmare Before Christmas hoodie. (I know that's your favorite hoodie.)
It smells of you. I will wear it every time I go to bed.
You will understand that I am quite disappointed in you. I thought you would know how a relationship works, Peter.
I thought you know that it's not only taking but also giving. Not receiving and then recklessly discarding gifts that came from the heart.
I see you with your girlfriend. (Just because you didn't hear from me for one week doesn't mean that I have not been thinking aboout you all the time. It just means that I needed time to try and understand the hurtful e-mail you've sent me.)
I've been watching you, Pete, and it's quite obvious that you need somebody to show you the real meaning of life. Love.
You don't seem to know what love is. Your relationship with that girl is based solely on physical attraction.

PHEBE
A note from -M-o-r-a-n-n-e-
I worry about you, Peter. You need me.
You could've just ignored my voice messages and e-mails but deep down you realize that you need me. That's why you didn't ignore them.
I am not mad about your last e-mail anymore. I came to understand that you just don't know how to ask for help. It's ok, Pete. I am there for you. :)
I'm keeping my eyes glued to you. Like a guardian angel. I'll make sure nothing bad happens.
I won't let HER hurt you.
I feel that the time hasn't come for us to meet yet. Both of us will feel when it's right.
I can hardly think of anything else than finally being with you. It makes my heart skip a beat.

Love always, Phebe

P.S.: You look so adorable when you sleep! I can't wait to fall asleep in your arms.



While reading, an avalanche of terror rolls from his brain down his spine into his stomach, where it stops and rests as a knot of unanswerable questions, fears and anger.

After the paralysis has ceased, Pete automatically begins to check what's missing in his bedroom. After 10 minutes of going through his personal belongings he has established that she really only took the hoodie. Everything else is still in its place.

Moranne's notepad and the pencil that she used are still lying on the small desk in front of the window.

Could this be some tasteless joke of Moe? He told her about the crazy fan yesterday.

Without hesitation he picks up his sidekick from the bedstand and dials her number.

When she answers the phone he doesn't even let her say hello.

"Did you leave me that note in my drawer, Moe? Because if so: This is not freaking funny!"

"Wha... What are you talking about, Pete? Why are you upset? What's going on?"

"I just woke up from a nap and I find this crazy note from a girl called Phebe in my cupboard. She took one of my hoodies... and she's talking about being in love with me and having to save me or some shit. If this was you, Moe, just tell me," Pete blurts out in a flash.

"I don't even know what you're talking about, Peter... How can you think this was me?"

"I... It's hard to believe someone entered my house, got past Hemingway, passed by my sleeping body, went through my stuff and wrote a two-paged letter and I didn't notice it." He adds meekly, "She used your notepad..."

"So, what?" the woman snaps. "That doesn't mean it was me! The notepad's always there... I leave you LOVING NOTES, Peter. Remember?"

Pete sighs in frustration, "I know... I'm... sorry."

Moe calms down quickly, "You're not pulling MY leg, are you? This is really true?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't tell me her name. You just said some girl sent you a t-shirt and that she managed to get ahold of your private e-mail address."

Pete thinks for a second. That's right, he never told Moe that her name is Phebe.

"Peter?..."

"Yes, I'm still here. Listen... A week ago she called me on the phone-"

"WHAT?!"

"She left two voice messages. I just... I didn't think it would turn out like this," in the meantime Pete has walked downstairs, left the house and is now heading for his garbage can.

He lifts the lid and sees that the t-shirt has been removed. He slams the top back on the can in frustration.

"FUCK!"

Moe remains silent.

"She went through my trash. She went through my fucking trash!" Pete paces back into the house.

"Is Hemmy ok?"

God, the thought hasn't crossed his mind.

He races back inside and calls out his dog's name. He's at his side immediately.

Patting him, Pete replies, "Yes, he's fine. I have no idea how she managed to pull this off."

"Listen to me, Pete. You need to inform the cops. Do you want me to come over? I can leave the set right away."





"Why didn't you tell me about this before? About the phone calls." Moe asks an hour later.

She's back at his place, waiting for the police to arrive.

"I didn't want you to worry. I thought it was nothing," Pete squeezes her hand.

Soon three policemen show up at his door step. Pete explains to them what had happened, as he had previously on the phone, and shows them the two sheets of yellow paper.

The officers ask to be led to his bedroom and inspect the scene of crime, ask questions and check for fingerprints and other traces.

"I'll forward this to our lab, Mr. Wentz," the head of the trio holds up the notepad paper in the transparent ziplock bag. "Same with the finger prints. I'm sorry we had to take yours and those of your girlfriend," he looks at her for a moment, "but we need them for comparison."

"We understand," Moe answers.

"We'll check your garbage can for evidence before we leave."

"Sure," Pete nods and hugs himself. His girlfriend grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly.

He exchanges a reassuring glance with her and then fixates the officers, "So, what are the chances of catching her?"

"I'm afraid I can't say anything yet. We'll do our best. You'll hear from us, Mr. Wentz," the senior cop says.

They step outside.

"I would suggest you have your alarm system checked and don't go anywhere alone," another officer tells Pete. "Stalkers can become dangerous."

"Don't go anywhere alone?" He replies and frowns, "This is probably some 16-year-old kid!"

"Probably," the head of the policemen replies, "it's just some harmless teenage kid. But we don't know yet. You better take this seriously... Oh, one last question: You don't have any enemies that you know of, do you?"

"No," Pete answers laconicly.