Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Her better half
... into the fire
15 reviewsPete meets Phebe for the first time; it's time to come and get him. Dr. Morley finds the answer and Kirsh makes a bad, bad mistake. And the readers find out who Phebe is. ;)
4Exciting
Chapter 20: ...into the fire
"Pete."
"Peter."
"Peter?"
He finally realizes someone is saying his name.
"Yes?" he turns around. And freezes.
That's her. That's Phebe. It must be.
It's often difficult to guess a teenage girl's exact age but he assumes her to be between 16 and 18. A coy smile is on her lips but her eyes gleam with an eerie radiance.
She's only a few feet away, so it's easy to figure out that she's just a few inches shorter than him. Her hair is an unusual color of red, but looks natural, and slightly curly, all strands neatly tucked behind her ears. She's dressed in a dark pair of jeans and a dark t-shirt, not necessarily screaming 'emo' or 'goth', but it seems to him she's probably not very much into colorful clothing.
Which probably explains the way-out-of-line colors on the t-shirt she sent him. She doesn't know any better.
Pete tries to focus his thoughts on the present. His life may depend on him keeping a cool head. He feels his legs shaking, finds it hard to breathe. Naturally his head is killing him.
"It's me, Phebe," the girl says softly and extends her hand towards him.
"Don't come near me!" he screams.
Her features harden, she looks slightly angry.
"Pete, I am just trying to help you," she makes a step closer to him. "Why can't you see that?"
The man forces himself to stay put. It's ridiculous, I can't just let this kid know that I am afraid of her.
"You sure have a funny way of showing that you want to help me..."
Phebe shakes her head, she looks disappointed. "I am going to show you, since you don't believe my words." With that she moves closer.
Pete starts walking backwards, backing away from her. His eyes try to make out his surroundings; in vain, it's pitch black. Just Phebe and he himself seem to be illuminated by some invisible source of light. But he hasn't got the time to wonder about that.
The teenager stops approaching and simply extends both her arms, "Come with me, Pete. You're in danger if you stay here."
"I don't know what you're taking about," the bassist's back bumps against a hard surface, a wall.
He starts rubbing his temples to soothe his aching head. I wish this was only a-
"This is only a dream, right?" he asks into the dark. Phebe is gone.
A split second later he wakes up, his eyes wide open to the darkness in his bedroom. Covered in sweat, his chest heaving rapidly, his brain rapping against his skull so hard he has to squint several times.
Just when he reaches for his nightstand he hears her again.
Pete.
"No!"
Peter.
"Go away! You're not real, I'm still dreaming."
You're not dreaming, Pete. And if you don't get out of bed right away and follow me, you will die.
His heart skips a beat.
Are you going to kill me?
Don't be silly, Peter. I don't want to kill you. I love you.
It's still dark around him. He doesn't dare turn on the light for fear of seeing her eye to eye in real life. He can't even make out where her voice is coming from, which direction. It's as if she was right beside him.
Pete, get up, please.
He doesn't reply. Maybe she will just go away if I pretend to be back asleep. I can control my dream if I just try hard enough. I could do it as a kid.
Pete, get up. The house is on fire.
Just now he hears the soft crackling noises coming from the hall. He sniffs.
"That's smoke!" he yells out, struggles out of bed and knocks over the lamp on his nightstand in his hectic attempt to turn it on.
Just do as I say, Peter, and everything will be fine. I can get us out of here.
After Dr. Morley has said his good-bye to Kirsh he went back to his office to do some paper work. After hours of reading, jotting down notes and going through various files of his clients, he pulled out Pete's folder.
Right now he's scanning his records about the bassist, from the very first session he had with him to the very last. It's well past midnight but he just can't call it a day and go home. There's something that strikes him as odd about his patient and his stalker.
He's also growing seriously worried about Pete's headaches and his memory lapses. Both conditions have gotten worse. Not even the drugs that a specialist that Dr. Morley has sent the musician to seem to be helping him.
Maybe there's something else wrong with him, not only the stress from being stalked nagging at him. The psychologist starts reading his initial notes out loud to himself, "Sleeps badly... headaches, time lapses, sexual dysfunction, ... feeling out of control... "
HEADACHES. TIME LAPSES.
Then it becomes crystal clear to him. Why haven't I thought about this before?!
He picks up his telephone receiver and hurriedly dials Officer Maxwell's number. After two rings someone picks it up and a female voice says, "Hello, you've reached Officer Maxwell's office. Beatrix speaking, how may I help you?"
"Hello, this is Dr. Morley and I need to speak to Officer Maxwell urgently. This is concerning the Wentz stalker case."
"I'm afraid, he's not in right now," Beatrix says friendly. "There's a fire at the Wentz residence and he's on his way there."
Oh my God.
"Do you have a number I can reach him with? A cell phone number?" the doctor asks anxiously.
"Why sure, Dr. Morley. Hold on."
He hears the woman putting the receiver on the table. There's a faint mumble like "I knew I had it written down here somewhere..."
A minute later Beatrix is back, "I'm afraid I can't find the number right now." Then she adds bashfully, "This is my second day here. Can I-"
"You know what, just tell him to call me as soon as he can. Dr. Morley, he should call Dr. Morley."
"Of course, -"
The psychologist disconnects himself from the secretary and then calls Kirsh, hoping she will have her cell on in the middle of the night.
Kirsh is woken up by a loud knocking at her front door. She fell asleep in front of the TV in the living room.
"I'm coming," she mumbles in half-sleep.
Then the woman opens the door to a familiar face, "Pete? What are you doing here? And at this hour... Where is Douglas?"
"Can I come in, please? Everything is so horrible," the young man stumbles over her door step.
She looks outside before she closes the door again and turns to him, "What happened to you? You look terrible. And you smell of smoke..."
"She set my house on fire! She wants to kill me! Kirsh, you gotta help me," Pete grips her by the shoulders.
"Ok, ok. Calm down. Did you call the fire department? The police?"
The man nods and lets himself be pushed towards the sofa in the living room, "They're on the way. I just couldn't stay there. Kirsh, she was there."
"I'm gonna make us some coffee, just-"
The officer is interrupted by her cell going off on the living room table. Almost synchronously to the phone buzzing Fey starts crying over the baby-phone. I really wish Brian wasn't out of town on a night like this.
The woman picks up her cell, "Pete, can you check up on my daughter? She's upstairs, second room on the right." Maybe some time with a baby will calm him down and take his mind off the horror.
"Sure," Pete says. Surprisingly, he already seems somewhat relaxed.
While answering the phone she walks into the kitchen to make some coffee.
"Yes?"
"Detective Kirsh, this is Dr. Morley. Sorry to bother you at this hour but I have something important to tell you. I tried to reach Superintendent Maxwell but apparently Mr. Wentz's house is on fire and he's-"
"I know, Wentz is-"
"Listen to me, this is important," the doctor says with resolution in his voice. "It's Mr. Wentz himself. The stalker, it's him. He's got DID."
Silence.
"Dissociative Identity Disorder."
Kirsh feels hit in the head, "Wentz's got Multiple Personality Disorder?"
Dr. Morley realizes it's not a good moment to point out the inaccuracy of the more archaic term she used and cuts down right to the chase, "Yes. We don't have time for explanations now. I will explain everything to you at a later date. You need to get to him fast before it's too late. This is an extraordinary case, the first one in history, as far as I'm concerned. I don't know what the Phebe identity is capable of doing. You need to get to his house and find him. Or her."
"He's... here. He's with my daughter right now."
Then the psychologist hears the cell dropping and somebody running up a flight of stairs as fast as they can.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
A/N: Swear to dog I didn't mean to end this update at this point, but I decided to split what I actually wanted to be the last real chapter (there's going to be an epilogue to wrap it all up, too) because if not, it would have gotten too long. Plus, I am still figuring out the climax/ end. But at least you know who it is now, right?
On a omniscient-narrator-knows-all note: How do those of you feel that voted for Phebe to "die a tragic death" in the light of this chapter? ;) I know you wanna kill Pete, Evie, so that suits you fine.
"Pete."
"Peter."
"Peter?"
He finally realizes someone is saying his name.
"Yes?" he turns around. And freezes.
That's her. That's Phebe. It must be.
It's often difficult to guess a teenage girl's exact age but he assumes her to be between 16 and 18. A coy smile is on her lips but her eyes gleam with an eerie radiance.
She's only a few feet away, so it's easy to figure out that she's just a few inches shorter than him. Her hair is an unusual color of red, but looks natural, and slightly curly, all strands neatly tucked behind her ears. She's dressed in a dark pair of jeans and a dark t-shirt, not necessarily screaming 'emo' or 'goth', but it seems to him she's probably not very much into colorful clothing.
Which probably explains the way-out-of-line colors on the t-shirt she sent him. She doesn't know any better.
Pete tries to focus his thoughts on the present. His life may depend on him keeping a cool head. He feels his legs shaking, finds it hard to breathe. Naturally his head is killing him.
"It's me, Phebe," the girl says softly and extends her hand towards him.
"Don't come near me!" he screams.
Her features harden, she looks slightly angry.
"Pete, I am just trying to help you," she makes a step closer to him. "Why can't you see that?"
The man forces himself to stay put. It's ridiculous, I can't just let this kid know that I am afraid of her.
"You sure have a funny way of showing that you want to help me..."
Phebe shakes her head, she looks disappointed. "I am going to show you, since you don't believe my words." With that she moves closer.
Pete starts walking backwards, backing away from her. His eyes try to make out his surroundings; in vain, it's pitch black. Just Phebe and he himself seem to be illuminated by some invisible source of light. But he hasn't got the time to wonder about that.
The teenager stops approaching and simply extends both her arms, "Come with me, Pete. You're in danger if you stay here."
"I don't know what you're taking about," the bassist's back bumps against a hard surface, a wall.
He starts rubbing his temples to soothe his aching head. I wish this was only a-
"This is only a dream, right?" he asks into the dark. Phebe is gone.
A split second later he wakes up, his eyes wide open to the darkness in his bedroom. Covered in sweat, his chest heaving rapidly, his brain rapping against his skull so hard he has to squint several times.
Just when he reaches for his nightstand he hears her again.
Pete.
"No!"
Peter.
"Go away! You're not real, I'm still dreaming."
You're not dreaming, Pete. And if you don't get out of bed right away and follow me, you will die.
His heart skips a beat.
Are you going to kill me?
Don't be silly, Peter. I don't want to kill you. I love you.
It's still dark around him. He doesn't dare turn on the light for fear of seeing her eye to eye in real life. He can't even make out where her voice is coming from, which direction. It's as if she was right beside him.
Pete, get up, please.
He doesn't reply. Maybe she will just go away if I pretend to be back asleep. I can control my dream if I just try hard enough. I could do it as a kid.
Pete, get up. The house is on fire.
Just now he hears the soft crackling noises coming from the hall. He sniffs.
"That's smoke!" he yells out, struggles out of bed and knocks over the lamp on his nightstand in his hectic attempt to turn it on.
Just do as I say, Peter, and everything will be fine. I can get us out of here.
After Dr. Morley has said his good-bye to Kirsh he went back to his office to do some paper work. After hours of reading, jotting down notes and going through various files of his clients, he pulled out Pete's folder.
Right now he's scanning his records about the bassist, from the very first session he had with him to the very last. It's well past midnight but he just can't call it a day and go home. There's something that strikes him as odd about his patient and his stalker.
He's also growing seriously worried about Pete's headaches and his memory lapses. Both conditions have gotten worse. Not even the drugs that a specialist that Dr. Morley has sent the musician to seem to be helping him.
Maybe there's something else wrong with him, not only the stress from being stalked nagging at him. The psychologist starts reading his initial notes out loud to himself, "Sleeps badly... headaches, time lapses, sexual dysfunction, ... feeling out of control... "
HEADACHES. TIME LAPSES.
Then it becomes crystal clear to him. Why haven't I thought about this before?!
He picks up his telephone receiver and hurriedly dials Officer Maxwell's number. After two rings someone picks it up and a female voice says, "Hello, you've reached Officer Maxwell's office. Beatrix speaking, how may I help you?"
"Hello, this is Dr. Morley and I need to speak to Officer Maxwell urgently. This is concerning the Wentz stalker case."
"I'm afraid, he's not in right now," Beatrix says friendly. "There's a fire at the Wentz residence and he's on his way there."
Oh my God.
"Do you have a number I can reach him with? A cell phone number?" the doctor asks anxiously.
"Why sure, Dr. Morley. Hold on."
He hears the woman putting the receiver on the table. There's a faint mumble like "I knew I had it written down here somewhere..."
A minute later Beatrix is back, "I'm afraid I can't find the number right now." Then she adds bashfully, "This is my second day here. Can I-"
"You know what, just tell him to call me as soon as he can. Dr. Morley, he should call Dr. Morley."
"Of course, -"
The psychologist disconnects himself from the secretary and then calls Kirsh, hoping she will have her cell on in the middle of the night.
Kirsh is woken up by a loud knocking at her front door. She fell asleep in front of the TV in the living room.
"I'm coming," she mumbles in half-sleep.
Then the woman opens the door to a familiar face, "Pete? What are you doing here? And at this hour... Where is Douglas?"
"Can I come in, please? Everything is so horrible," the young man stumbles over her door step.
She looks outside before she closes the door again and turns to him, "What happened to you? You look terrible. And you smell of smoke..."
"She set my house on fire! She wants to kill me! Kirsh, you gotta help me," Pete grips her by the shoulders.
"Ok, ok. Calm down. Did you call the fire department? The police?"
The man nods and lets himself be pushed towards the sofa in the living room, "They're on the way. I just couldn't stay there. Kirsh, she was there."
"I'm gonna make us some coffee, just-"
The officer is interrupted by her cell going off on the living room table. Almost synchronously to the phone buzzing Fey starts crying over the baby-phone. I really wish Brian wasn't out of town on a night like this.
The woman picks up her cell, "Pete, can you check up on my daughter? She's upstairs, second room on the right." Maybe some time with a baby will calm him down and take his mind off the horror.
"Sure," Pete says. Surprisingly, he already seems somewhat relaxed.
While answering the phone she walks into the kitchen to make some coffee.
"Yes?"
"Detective Kirsh, this is Dr. Morley. Sorry to bother you at this hour but I have something important to tell you. I tried to reach Superintendent Maxwell but apparently Mr. Wentz's house is on fire and he's-"
"I know, Wentz is-"
"Listen to me, this is important," the doctor says with resolution in his voice. "It's Mr. Wentz himself. The stalker, it's him. He's got DID."
Silence.
"Dissociative Identity Disorder."
Kirsh feels hit in the head, "Wentz's got Multiple Personality Disorder?"
Dr. Morley realizes it's not a good moment to point out the inaccuracy of the more archaic term she used and cuts down right to the chase, "Yes. We don't have time for explanations now. I will explain everything to you at a later date. You need to get to him fast before it's too late. This is an extraordinary case, the first one in history, as far as I'm concerned. I don't know what the Phebe identity is capable of doing. You need to get to his house and find him. Or her."
"He's... here. He's with my daughter right now."
Then the psychologist hears the cell dropping and somebody running up a flight of stairs as fast as they can.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
A/N: Swear to dog I didn't mean to end this update at this point, but I decided to split what I actually wanted to be the last real chapter (there's going to be an epilogue to wrap it all up, too) because if not, it would have gotten too long. Plus, I am still figuring out the climax/ end. But at least you know who it is now, right?
On a omniscient-narrator-knows-all note: How do those of you feel that voted for Phebe to "die a tragic death" in the light of this chapter? ;) I know you wanna kill Pete, Evie, so that suits you fine.
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