Changes – Part Three

"Oh will you please calm down?" Davy asked for about the tenth time. "She'll be out in a few minutes! It takes gi'ls longah to get ready!"

Peter fidgeted. He'd insisted on keeping it "casual/formal"... jeans and a button-down dress shirt opened at the collar for him.

Now what Kayla would come out in was anybody's guess. Mrs. Purdy had brought over another stack of altered clothes and Kayla was trying them on in private.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "It's just that... Heck, I sleep with her in my arms every night, I live with her every day... you wouldn't think a simple date would make me this nervous!"

Kayla finally emerged from the bedroom. True to her word, Mrs. Purdy had managed to fashion a skirt out of the charcoal trousers. She'd teamed the garment, which came to mid-calf, with the altered version of Mike's best dress shirt, a fine white cotton. With Mrs. P's help, she'd rolled up the sleeves and turned up the collar slightly, giving the masculine garment a more feminine look. On her feet were the pumps provided by the helpful neighbor. Her hair she'd simply parted to one side, letting the thick ebony locks caress her shoulders.

Peter smiled at the involuntary gasps given off by the other two male inhabitants of the Pad. "I suppose you must look hot enough to fry eggs," he quipped. "They both gasped."

"I guess," she said doubtfully. "Mrs. P. tried to get me to wear make-up, if you can believe that!"

"You don't need any," Peter said. Then his eyes widened as she walked across the room. "Kay... is that a dress? Pants and jeans don't swish...."

"I decided to jump in feet first." She smiled ironically. "I just hope I'm not in over my head - I still can't walk in these things."

Peter ran a hand down her arms and around her collar, 'seeing' her outfit. "Colours?"

"White shirt - Mike's best - and that charcoal skirt you conned Mrs. Purdy into making."

Peter pulled her close, enveloping her in a hug.

Davy and Micky's eyes went huge as her arms wrapped around him, returning the hug in public.

Kayla laughed softly as she caught a quick glimpse of their faces. "They’re staring again," she whispered in Peter's ear.

"Let them," he whispered back. Then he turned her face and kissed her deeply.

Kayla closed her eyes, for once forgetting the prying eyes. She sighed as, when she finally re-opened them at the end of the kiss, she was met with the same scene. "Maybe we'd better stop before they forget to breathe!" she told Peter.

"Thank you for finally showing me you love me too," he whispered, pulling back slightly.

She gave him one last squeeze in silent answer as she, too, pulled away. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"As I'll ever be," he said with a smile. "Then let's go." she scanned the room. "Anyone see the keys to the car?"

Peter smiled and held them up. "My turn to drive?" he cracked.

"Very funny." Kayla grabbed for the keys with one hand, gripping Peter's elbow with the other. "I'd like to get there in one piece!"

"Where is 'there' , anyway?" Peter asked. "I know we're gonna eat at the Cassandra... but what then?"

"I don't have the vaguest idea," she admitted. "Is there anything special you can think of?"

Peter thought for a moment. "Well, it's silly...but I've always wanted to walk along the boardwalk after dark.."

"Fine with me." Kayla started for the door, Peter in tow. "Let's go."

They walked to where the Monkeemobile was parked. After settling Peter in the passenger seat, Kayla rounded the hood of the car, getting in the driver's side. "Huh!" she said suddenly.

"What is it?" Peter cried, instantly alarmed.

Kayla reached under the seat, searching for the lever to adjust it. "Nothing - I just can't reach the stupid pedals!" She pulled the seat up several inches, then adjusted the rear and side view mirrors to accommodate her shorter height. "I feel like Davy!"

Peter chuckled. "Davy was never as beautiful as you are."

They drove in silence for awhile, then Peter looked up as he felt the car stop. "The Cassandra?"

"How'd you know?" Kayla asked in surprise.

Those killer dimples showed. "I hear music. And there's only two stop signs between here and the Pad .. and you stopped at both of them."

"You're learning fast," she observed. "That's pretty good -- you're going to have to pay attention to things like that now..."

"Yeah..." and his face crumpled. "It's not like I have a choice in the matter..."

Kayla reached over, placing a hand on his slumped shoulder. "Hey, I didn't mean to bring you down. This is supposed to be fun!"

Peter sighed. "I know you didn't, Honey. Just gimme a minute, okay?"

They sat in silence for a few moments, Kayla watching the emotions flit across his face. Finally, she saw him take a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. "Better?"

"With you by my side," he said, smiling slightly, taking her hand, "I can conquer the world!"

"Tomorrow we'll conquer the world -- tonight, it's the Cassandra!" Kayla intoned, voice mockingly serious. Opening her door, she exited, careful of the unfamiliar skirt. Rounding to the passenger side, she waited while Peter stood.

He laughed, as she had intended. "Fair enough. Shall we, Honey?"

"We shall!" Taking his hand, Kayla led the way into the club.

By the time they were seated, Peter was so furious he was nearly in tears. The maitre'd had noticed his disability and was treating him as though he were deaf -- or invisible.

"I'm sorry, Shotgun," Kayla said, seeing his distress. "What a jerk!"

"...asshole you mean..." Peter breathed.

Kayla grinned. "A perfect one!"

Peter smiled, but it was a tight shadow of his dimpled grin.

The maitre-d returned and handed the menu to Kayla. He glanced disdainfully at Peter before turning back to her. "What to drink, Ma'am?"

Kayla glared at him. "I'll have a Coke. You can ask my escort what he would like!"

He nodded. "Sir? What would you like?"

"Iced tea, please."

He nodded again. "Your waitress will be right with you."

To Kayla's combined relief and horror, the waitress turned out to be Candy Cooper - one of Mike's old girlfriends! She walked up to the table, smacking her gum as usual. "I'm sorry about Snide -- I mean Clyde -- we're tryin' to have him fired." She set down the Coke and tea and looked at Peter. "Hey... don't I know you... Oh! You're one of Mike's roommates!" She turned to Kayla. "And you are --?"

Kayla fidgeted nervously. "Kayla," she answered, hoping the accent wouldn't seem too familiar.

"I've seen you before too ... but where? I never forget a face, but I have trouble placin' them .. ah, well, it'll come to me eventually. Our house band of the night will be performing soon if you'd care to dance...and I'll be back out in a few moments to take your orders...." She paused and looked at Kayla again. "I swear I know you..." Then she flounced off.

"That was close!" Kayla shook her head. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to come to a place where so many people know us."

He groped for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Honey, you have to face the world someday. Now is as good a time as any."

"I just hope I can convince everyone I'm Mike's sister. Good thing I never really talked about my family very much."

Candy flounced back up. "I remember! I saw you out on the beach! You were leading him!"

Kayla breathed a silent sigh of relief. "That must be it," she agreed.

Candy frowned. "But you sound like one of my old boyfriends... you've the same accent..."

Kayla faked a sunny smile. "Isn't it funny when that happens? I must just have one of those voices..."

"His name was Mike Nesmith. Haven't seen him around here lately... You wouldn't happen to know him, would you?"

Peter tried valiantly, and failed miserably, to control the spreading grin. Kayla gave him a swift kick under the table, watching in satisfaction as a look of pain crossed his face.

"You mean Mike didn't tell you about me?" Kayla asked the waitress. Might as well keep the story straight... "I'm his sister, Kayla. Mike is back in Texas for awhile."

Candy nodded. "Oh yeah I can see the family resemblance..." Then she went all business, asking them for their orders before flouncing off again.

"Oh, man," Kayla said. "I hope that'll keep her satisfied. She's way too nosy!"

Happily, it did. Peter and Kayla had a nice, relaxing meal. "So," Peter asked, downing the last of his dessert. "What do you wanna do now?"

Kayla put down her napkin. "You know, I have absolutely no idea! It's a shame to go back so early, though."

"Then pick something else for us to do. This is a date after all...."

Kayla thought for a moment. "Want to go for that walk you mentioned?"

Peter's face lit up, and a pang went through Kayla as those dead eyes never changed. "Sure!"

"Let me flag down Candy and see what the damage is." Kayla caught the waitress' eye, and motioned for their check.

Twenty dollars lighter, they left the Cassandra and slid back into the GTO.

"I... uhm... forgot..." Peter said with a grin. "Where are we going?"

"Walking," Kayla reminded him. "On the boardwalk."

Peter blinked. "All right...I thought that was only a pipe dream..." He closed his useless eyes and sighed. "Get us there, Honey."

Kayla took one look at his closed-in expression, and without another word started the Monkeemobile, heading for the ocean. A scant ten minutes later, she shut off the engine again. "We're here," she said simply.

Peter opened his eyes and opened the door, stepping out of the car and closing it behind him --- as expertly as if he could see.

Kayla walked to his side. As she had done at the club, she took his hand instead of his arm to lead him.

He squeezed her fingers in silent acknowledgement of that fact -- and in silent thanks.

"It's a beautiful night," Kayla commented a few moments later.

"Tell me about it," he said. "Is the moon out? the stars?"

"It's a new moon," Kayla replied. "It's so clear, you can see every star. Must be thousands of them up there..."

"Find Orion for me."

Kayla scanned the night sky. "There it is -- Orion's belt. I can see that row of stars that make it up."

"Look above it ... can you see the blue one in his shoulder and the white one right next to it?"

"Uh-huh. They're all there, right where they should be!"

"I made a wish on those once," Peter sighed. "I wished that somewhere, somehow, the perfect woman would come to me." He turned and lay his hands on her cheeks. "And now that she has..." He dropped his hands and took a step backward, spreading his hands apart. "I can't see her." Peter jammed his hands in his jeans pockets and turned his back on Kayla, the blonde head bowed.

Kayla stepped up behind him, not touching him, but so close he could amost feel her. "Peter, look at me."

"I can't."

Kayla grabbed his shoulders, turning him to face her. Sliding her hands down to capture his, she raised them to her face. She lay her right hand on his chest, her left by his blind eyes. "Look at me," she repeated. "Forget you can't see with these," she gently touched his face, "and look with this." She pressed her hand to his beating heart.

Peter's eyes slid closed as his hands gently skimmed over her face. Tears began to spill over his cheeks. "Kay..." he whispered. "You're.... you're as beautiful as I remember..."

Kayla wiped the tears from his face. "Then next time, remember this. Nothing you can see with your eyes will ever compare to what you see with your heart. You're blind -- it doesn't mean you can't see."

He paused, gently sliding his fingers back over her high cheekbones. "You... you're cryin' too."

She stopped in surprise. "So I am," she whispered in wonder. "It just seems like... I-I don't know how to describe it..."

"Natural," Peter breathed. "Girls cry."

"I never realised what it must be like, to have your emotions so --- close to the surface."

"And now you know." Peter began to absently run a hand down her long ebony hair.

"You're the same way," Kayla observed. "How do you deal with all those feelings? I mean, they always seem to be ready to break out at any given moment..."

"You learn to control them," Peter said with a smile. "You learn..." and he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips."

Kayla sighed as she gave in to the kiss. "This is not gonna help me learn control," she mumbled against his lips.

He chuckled... and deepened the kiss, holding her tight against him.

Kayla snuggled into his embrace, for once letting her mind shut down. Let him put an end to this for a change, she thought.

So when Peter leaned down and scooped her into his arms, moving in the damp sand back toward the car, never stopping the kisses, she was more than slightly startled.

"Peter!" she squealed. "What are you doing?"

He smiled and gently set her down on the Monkeemobile's hood. "I just wanted to get out of the waves. I love you, Bobbie Michaela Nesmith."

Kayla grinned. "I love you, too, Shotgun, but if you call me that again, you're a dead man!" she said sweetly.

"What, the first name?"

"The whole name," she countered. "Brings back way too many memories. The only time I ever heard my full name was if I was in big trouble!"

Peter chuckled. "How about I make a deal with you?" he asked in between soft kisses. "How about the next time you hear the full name a priest is saying it?"

Kayla pondered that for a moment. "A priest, huh? I don't know -- still sounds like big trouble to me!"

Peter chuckled and pulled his girlfriend closer. "I want to spend my life with you ... is that so hard to understand?"

Kayla lay her head on his shoulder, breathing deeply. "I guess not," she said softly. "Does that mean you want an answer to your question?"

"...yeah it does..." he whispered into her hair.

"How do you feel about really long engagements?"

After a moment, he answered warily, "How long is long?"

"Long enough for me to get used to this. Long enough to make sure this is real, and not just that damned programming. Long enough for you to learn to cope with blindness. We have a lot to get through, Peter. I don't know how long it will take. I guess that's up to us."

"If having you as my wife means I have to learn these things...I'll start in the morning." This was delivered without a smile.

He was deadly serious.

She smiled slightly at the somber face he wore. "Do you even realise why I included that, Peter?"

His golden brows drew together in a puzzled frown. "No."

"Because," she explained gently. "I need to know that you'd be coming into this marriage whole and strong. And, more importantly, you need to know it. You can't do that if you feel you have to depend on others for basic things."

"What about you?" He traced her jawline. "What about you needing to know this is real and forever? What's that all about?"

"Peter, this has all been so fast! Mike or Kayla, I've never believed in love at first sight -- or second, for that matter. I always thought it would take more than that...."

"And now we've been programmed to be together," Peter whispered. "And you're confused about whether the feelings you're having are caused by the programming or by your heart."

"Got it in one," Kayla agreed. "If this is just that programming.... I know they said this was permanent, but what if they were lying, Peter?"

"Answer me this. Don't think about the answer, just answer. Do you want a relationship with me?"

"Yes," she replied immediately, surprising herself.

He gently caressed her cheek. "Then don't let fear stand in your way. Don't let my ineptness at being blind stand in your way. If this is from the programming, if this is from your heart -- I don't care. I only know this: I want you to be my wife. To be by my side no matter what happens. Because I love you. The programming may have started this, but the love I feel is real."

"You sound so sure..."

"Because I am sure, Honey. I've been in touch with my feelings for most of my adult life. I know the difference between manipulated emotions and real ones. What I felt for you back in New Mexico... that was manipulated. What I feel for you now ... this is real."

"And I've spent most of my life hiding my emotions -- or hiding from them. I never learned to trust them. I have a lot to learn about trust, Peter."

He caressed her cheek again. "You could start by trusting me."

She looked into his blind eyes for a long moment before she answered softly, "All right, Peter. I will marry you. But I think we need to give it awhile before we set any kind of date. It's not like we're going anywhere, and it would give both of us a chance to get a little more settled."

"Agreed. Just so I know that at the end of that road... I'll find Kayla Tork."

"Agreed." Kayla moved back a little, pulling him off of the car. "It's getting late. Micky and Davy are gonna send out the National Guard if we don't show soon."

"Let them." And his mouth claimed hers once more.

The last notes of "As We Go Along" faded out and the Monkees looked at each other and smiled. "Kayla, that was incredible!" Peter said, reaching for his fiancée. "You still write the best songs..."

Davy gave a snort. "You arranged that one, Peter!"

"And Micky griped about how hard it was to sing, so I guess it was a group effort!" Kayla joked.

They all laughed, then Peter unslung his bass and set it carefully down beside the amplifier. In the same motion, his fingers closed around the white cane he'd gotten from the hospital the morning after their talk on the boardwalk two weeks prior.

On the visit that revealed to them all that his blindness was, indeed, permanent.

Peter made his own way to the kitchen. "My turn to cook tonight!" he announced.

"You're not making soup, are you?" Micky groaned.

"Nope, but I am givin' you a choice!" Peter turned around and smiled as he held the receiver to his ear. "Pizza, Chinese, or Mexican?"

"Mexican!" Kayla requested.

"Pizza!" Micky shouted at the same time.

"Well, Davy, you have the tiebreaking vote!" Peter teased.

"Mexican -- we had pizza last night!"

Peter nodded and, from memory, dialed a Mexican restaurant and rattled off their favourite dishes. He hung up and moved further into the kitchen, getting dishes and moving them to the table --- as if he'd been blind all his life.

Kayla smiled at his newfound skills. Peter had worked hard the past couple of weeks, and the effort showed in his smooth, confident movements. "Whose turn is it to do the dishes afterward?" she asked. "Cause if it's mine, we're using the 'good china' tonight!"

"Oh ho ho, a challenge from the future Mrs. Tork?" Peter quipped. The smiles on Micky and Davy's faced turned frozen. Since they'd broken the news of their upcoming marriage, the other two had become increasingly uncomfortable around them -- and tonight was no exception.

Unaware of the looks, Peter went on, "Well, then, let's see what we can do --"

"Uhm..." Kayla said, "maybe we'd better hold off on that for a minute, Peter."

"Sure." Peter's smile was gone. He knew that tone in her voice. "What's happened?"

"Oh, Micky and Davy are giving us the 'look' again," she answered. "The one where they look like we both have two heads."

Peter sighed and leaned on the table. "Guys, we've been through this...."

"That doesn't make it any less weird!" Micky protested. "Kayla Tork? Man, that just sounds strange!"

"She's used that name off and on since New Mexico," Peter said.

"What?" Davy gasped. He turned to Kayla. "Why?"

"Because somebody wired money to Peter in New Mexico, and they wouldn't release it to anybody but a spouse, so I told them I was Kayla Tork. I saved a lot of explaining..."

Davy flamed red. "So in a sense.... this is my fault. Since it was Peter Micky spoke to, I assumed it was Peter who would.... We didn't believe him about...." He sagged onto the couch and covered his face with his hands. "I never dreamed ye'd actually been ... An' then ye'd fall in..." He was rambling so hard his sentences were slurring.

"Stop it, Davy!" Kayla ordered. "It's not your fault -- it's nobody's fault but those aliens. I used the name because it suited our needs at the time. It had nothing to do with what came after."

"We've made this point at least seven times in the last fortnight..." Peter said, moving around the table and unerringly finding his fiancée’s waist. "And we'll make it again. What we feel for each other is real -- it's not part of programming anymore. It's turned into the real thing."

Micky sat down on the couch. "Do you feel the same, Kay?"

Kayla looked at his face. She'd never seen Micky that serious. "I do," she stated. "Peter says it's more than programming, and I trust him enough to believe him. And I certainly know that I've never felt anything like this before."

Davy raised his head. "So I take it this means you two are about ready to set a definite date."

"That's up to Kay," Peter said gently.

"And Kay has not made that decision. Yet." Kayla turned to look up at Peter. "But she's getting closer."

Peter's face registered the surprise he felt. "Well," he said, only half-jokingly, "we're making progress?"

"We're getting there," Kayla confirmed. "Slow and steady."

Peter's eyes closed and he gave the woman he loved a sizzling kiss in front of everyone.

"Aw, man!" Micky stood up, shaking his head in mock disgust. "I'll never get used to seeing that!"

"Me either," Davy sighed. "Man alive... those two..."

"Should get a room!" Micky finished. "C'mon you two -- break it up!"

Peter pulled back and caressed her cheek, then said, "We've got some very good news anyhow!"

"Don't tell me she's pregnant!" Davy moaned.

Kayla started toward Davy, fists clenched. "What did you say, little man? I may be a girl but I can still take you!"

"You're engaged, Kayla..." Davy stood up. "An' now ye've got some 'very good news'..."

"A gig at the March!" Peter snapped.

Hardly hearing, Davy bulled on, "What'm I supposed t'think?"

"You're supposed to keep your mind out of the gutter!" Kayla exploded.

"You sleep together!" Davy cried out. "Ye say it's programmed, but I think more than sleepin's goin' on in there!"

"You would," Peter hissed.

Kayla moved to stand in front of Davy. Hands on hips, she looked down at him. Even as a woman, she had a good three inch advantage over him. "Now you listen, Jones, and you listen good!" she said in a deathly quiet voice. "Peter and I sleep together. S-L-E-E-P!" she spelled. "Nothing else! Don't project your alley cat morals onto us!"

"Come on," Davy laughed. "A handsome man, a beautiful lady... in each other's arms every night... and all ye do is sleep?"

"Davy, lay off..." Micky warned, seeing the fire in Kayla's dark eyes. "You're out of line."

"Like hell I'm outta line!" Davy screeched. "Those two are... are..."

"Are what, Davy?" Micky asked. "In love? So what if they are?"

"SHE'S MIKE, THAT'S SO WHAT!!!" Davy bellowed so loud Peter winced from the volume.

"No," Micky said quietly. "SHE'S KAYLA."

"What is wrong with you people?" Davy gasped. "That... person... was a man not a year ago!"

"No one knows that better than I do, Davy!" Kayla said. "But that's the past. I have a future to face, and it looks like I have to do it as Kayla. I don't have a choice."

"I'm sorry, Kayla... really I am... but I just have a problem with you two bein' together."

"I know that," she replied. "I don't blame you for feeling strange about this whole thing. Believe me, I feel strange enough for the both of us! But it would help if you would at least try to accept what's going on."

Davy walked over to her and lay a hand on her shoulder. "Right now, I can't. I look at you.. and I see him. 'Till I can look at you and see Kayla -- I can't."

"What's that going to take?" Peter asked quietly.

"I... don't know." Davy lowered both his hand and his eyes.

"Maybe you ought to think about it." Kayla moved back to Peter's side. "You've been a good friend to us. I'd hate to lose that friendship because you can't adjust to this."

"So would I," Peter confirmed.

"I'll think about it," Davy said. "Just... please answer me this... are you two having --"

"Not yet," Peter said with a wicked grin. "Just waitin' till she takes my name."

Kayla reached up, punching him in the arm. "Thanks a lot! Why don't we just tell them all our secrets and be done with it?"

"Okay." Peter said, straight-faced.

Micky perked up. "Secrets? You got more secrets?"

Kayla sighed. "Don't listen to him, Mick. He's just teasin'."

The dimpled grin spread, confirming her words.

Davy looked up. "I think I may know a way... Kayla, kiss me."

"Not on your life!" she screeched. "Not if you were the last man on earth!"

Peter lay his hands on her shoulders. "I think I know what he's getting at... Davy can learn a lot about a girl from a kiss. Maybe this is his way of confirming to himself what his eyes are seeing."

"Right," Davy agreed. "Nothin' more, Kayla. Just... proof."

"Peter! You sound like you want me to kiss him!"

Her fiancée leaned down and whispered, "If this is the only way for him to be convinced... I'm for it. Besides, if you do, you'll see I'm a much better kisser than the shrimp!" Now he was teasing her again.

Kayla looked at Peter. "Well, never let it be said that a Nesmith backed down from a challenge! All right, Jones. Pucker up!"

Davy closed his eyes, waiting.

Kayla walked up to Davy. Putting her arms around him, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his. Davy being Davy, it didn't take long for him to take the initiative. Pulling her close, he deepened the kiss.

Suddenly those huge brown eyes of his snapped wide open and he released her, staggering back a step with a look of pure, unadulterated shock on his face.

"What's the matter, Davy?" Micky asked.

Davy cursed. "That... that is a woman... all the way through!"

"That's what we've been trying to tell you!" Kayla went back to Peter's side. "And Peter?"

"Yeah?" Peter asked, wrapping his arms around her.

"You were right -- about everything."

Peter smiled and enfolded her in his arms, kissing her passionately in front of the other two.

Davy stared pop-eyed at them, lost in some realization that had rocked him to his core. He just stood there, immobile, staring.

Micky waved his hand in front of Davy's eyes. No response. "Davy! Snap out of it!"

Still no response. Davy, it seemed, had become a living statue.

Peter pulled back from Kayla. "What's wrong with Davy, Mick? What's happening?"

"I don't know, man, but I think he's flipped!" Micky shook Davy roughly by the shoulders. "Davy! C'mon, say something!"

Davy blinked and swallowed hard. "...kayla...." he gasped out.

"What, Davy?" she asked, face now lined in concern.

"...kayla....no...chance...nothing...of...Mike...left..."

"That's what we've been trying to get across to you, Davy," Kayla replied. "You're right -- there isn't anything of Mike left. I don't think like him, or react like him. The only things left are memories..."

Davy suddenly lunged forward. He grabbed Kayla by the arms and kissed her on the cheek. "Ye have me blessing, you two... I hope you're happy t'gether." He released her and grabbed his jacket and the keys to his jeep.

"Where are you going?" Peter asked, hearing the jingle of keys.

Davy paused at the door. "T'the church. T'light a candle for an old friend I miss very much."

Then he was gone.

Kayla closed her eyes with a sigh. "I think maybe I put that badly..."

"No." Peter embraced her from behind, locking his hands in front of her waist as he leaned his cheek on top of her head. "Davy has to grieve, is all." Then he shifted his weight and sighed. "Micky, what about you? Are you okay with the way things are?"

"I miss Mike, too," the drummer admitted. "But I've sort of gotten used to having Kayla around. And besides, I can't see any point in fighting about this. The only thing that would accomplish would be to make us all miserable. So, yeah. I'm all right with it."

"Good." Peter kissed the top of Kayla's head. "Because I am super-all right with the way things are. All of it."

Kayla snuggled back into his body, but made no reply, her mind still half on Davy.

"What's wrong, Honey?" Peter whispered.

"I'm worried about Davy. He's so young, and he always looked up to Mike. Now Mike can't be there for him. I can't be a big brother to him anymore..."

"No, but you can be a big sister to him .. and let me be the big brother." He smiled. "I kind of like it."

"No kidding?" Kayla looked at him curiously. "Another side-effect of The Change? You were always the one who needed looking after, Before!"

"Not anymore," Peter said with a grin. "Once you were transformed, I found myself taking care of you, remember?"

"Now, wait a minute!" Kayla rounded on him. "I don't need anybody to take care of me! I can look after myself!"

Peter silenced her with a kiss.

"Well, since you put it that way," Kayla murmured, causing Micky to snicker.

"Should I leave you two alone?" he asked innocently.

"Please," Peter said in a commanding tone.

Micky raised his brows at the unusual forcefulness in Peter's voice. "Yes, Sir!" With a snappy salute, he exited through the front door, heading in the direction Davy had taken.

Kayla barely heard the door close. "Is he gone?"

"M-hm." Peter lowered his head and began to nibble at her neck.

"Good." Kayla played with his silky hair, letting the fair strands sift through her fingers. "But I really don't need to be taken care of, you know."

"M-hm," he said around the low growl that was forming in his throat. "...that feels so good..."

"U-hm," Kayla breathed, nuzzling her neck with his nose. " But unless you've got a marriage license in your back pocket, we'd better stop. While we still can."

He moaned in frustration and let his head drop onto her shoulder. "I wanna marry you now..." he whimpered.

"I know exactly how you feel!" Kayla commiserated. "But we agreed not to jump into this."

To her surprise, Peter shot back like she'd struck him and there was fury in his face. "How long?" he cried. "Kay, it's been months!"

"I know that!" she cried. "But..."

"But what? It feels like you're deliberately stringing me along and I wanna know why!"

"Because I'm scared!" she blurted out. "Do you understand that? My life has been turned completely upside down ... I go from being a man, being your friend, to being a woman, and one that's in love with you, to boot! I'm scared, Peter!"

"But don't you see that I'm here? I'll help you deal... but you seem determined not to accept any help!"

"I've never been any good at that," Kayla said, more quietly now. "I guess all of Mike isn't gone, after all."

Peter ran a hand through his hair and grinned. "Do you realise what just happened here?"

Kayla looked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

The grin widened. "We just had our first fight."

Kayla smiled. "We did, didn't we? So, who won?"

He put his arms around her again. "That depends. Will you let me in, let me help you?"

"If you can put up with my bad temper, I'll try a little harder to accept this whole thing. But I can't make any guarantees..."

"Then I'd say we both won, Honey."

Davy returned a couple of hours later to find Peter and Kayla both at the kitchen table, quietly discussing possible dates. "Progress?" he teased.

"Davy," Kayla looked up to see him standing by the staircase, expression actually pleasant for a change. "Are you all right?"

"Gettin' there," he said with a smile. "You two seem closer than ever."

"We still have a few issues to deal with," Kayla replied. "Like trying to pin down a date."

Davy's face lit up. "Kay... when ye do set a date... can you do me a favor?"

Kayla grinned, glad their friend seemed to be better disposed to the situation. "Depends on what it is," she said jauntily.

Davy took one of her slender hands. "Will you do me th'honor of allowin' me to walk you down the aisle?"

Peter smiled broadly, but did not answer.

Kayla's expression turned thoughtful. Standing up, she walked over to Davy. She wrapped the shorter man in a hug, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "I'd like nothing better."

"Then it's a date," Davy said, releasing her and jogging up the stairs.

"Lovely," she chuckled, moving into Peter's outstretched arms -- he had stood up as well. "I'm engaged to you, and I've got a date with Davy."

Peter laughed briefly before silencing her with a very deep kiss.

"It's gonna be fine, Peter," she whispered. "We're going to be married, and live happily ever after. You know the story!"

"Optimism from a Nesmith," he cracked. "Never thought I'd live to see the day..."

Kayla laughed. "Must be that Tork influence rubbing off on me!"

"Must be..." And he kissed her again, crushing her to him.

The March was jumping by the time the Monkeemobile pulled up. A flat tire had delayed them, but they were there for their gig.

Their first since the dual transformations.

Mr. Jackson, the owner of the March, came out glaring. "About time!" he snapped.

"Sorry, Mister Jackson." Micky climbed out from behind the wheel. "We had a flat."

"Get in here and set up! And -- hold on, who's she? I said no groupies this time!"

Kayla looked up from picking up her guitar. "I'm no groupie! I'm in the band!"

"Sure you are, sweetheart. And where's the tall guy? The one with the wool hat?"

"Mike isn't here anymore! I'm his sister, Kayla. I play with the band now."

Jackson looked to the other three skeptically. "Really, boys?"

"Really!" Peter said.

"Okay then... Tork's never lied to me.. .come on, get set up."

Kayla watched as Jackson disappeared back into the building. "Creep!" she muttered under her breath. "Come on, guys." Taking Peter's hand, she led the way into the club.

They sat up and ran through a few warmup numbers. Then, without even introducing them, Peter screamed into the microphone, "ONE! TWO! ONETWOTHREEFOUR..." and launched into the opening notes of You Just May Be The One.

It was Peter's clear baritone that sang the song now.

Kayla concentrated on guitar, and on her new duties as a backing vocalist. It had taken some time to learn how to work her soprano into their vocal mix, but the results were no less pleasing than the original, at least to their ears.

And apparently to the crowd's ears, too. The dancing didn't let up, even when they moved without a break into Door Into Summer -- one Kayla could still sing lead on. As she sang, accompanied by the bell-like tones of Peter's keyboards, Kayla began to relax, getting into the music.

Thus, she barely registered the slowing of the dancing and the shocked murmur that passed through the crowd at the realization this was a female voice. Or the stares that accompanied the whispers as the crowd looked toward the stage for the first time.

Kayla gamely kept singing, even as the crowd came to a standstill, frankly staring at the group on the stage.

Peter sensed the stillness and after the song ended, didn't start the next one. "What's wrong?" he hissed to Kayla, forgetting the microphone picked him up.

"He's blind!" someone screeched.

"And there's a chick in the band!" a man yelled and gave a wolf-whistle.

"That answer your question?" Kayla replied. "They're all just standing there! Staring!"

"We're still the Monkees!" Davy cried into the microphone. "Our music hasn't changed!"

"Yeah, c'mon, people!" Micky added. "Give her a chance!"

"Play, chicky, play!" someone began to chant and a bunch of ruffians picked it up.

Kayla watched the crowd, anger slowly rising. As the chant continued, her eyes narrowed, mouth tightening into a very familiar expression. She turned to her bandmates. "I want you guys to leave the stage for a minute," she ordered.

Davy nodded, reaching for Peter's arm. But Peter leaned into the microphone and ---

"STOP IT!!!" he roared at the top of his lungs. The amplified shout stunned the crowd into silence. Fuming, Peter stepped back and allowed Davy to lead him off the stage. Micky followed, mumbling that he'd never in all the time he'd known him seen Peter so mad.

But his anger was no match for Kayla's. Glaring at the now quiet crowd, she spoke in a low, deadly tone. "What's the matter with you people? You get your kicks harassing a woman and a blind man? Maybe your mothers never taught you any manners? We came here tonight to play. Apparently you'd rather act like a bunch of assholes than listen to some good music! Pity -- until tonight, I actually had hopes for some of you!"

Kayla looked pointedly at a few familiar faces in the mass of people. "Looks like I overestimated the quality of your breeding!" Turning her back to the now silent crowd, she walked proudly off the stage, shoulders back and head held high.

A lone voice began to chant again. "We want the Monkees! We want the Monkees!" And the chant spread.

Kayla stopped just back stage, where the others waited for her. She stood silently, unwilling to look back at the crowd, face stony.

Peter's face was just as hard as hers. "You wanna try it?" he asked softly.

"What I really want is to get as far away from here as possible," she replied bitterly. "But there's no way in hell I'm going to let them run me off!"

Peter held out his hand. "Micky, Dave, you stay here. This first song is just us." He turned to Kayla. "Lead the way, Honey."

She took his hand, returning to the stage. As soon as the people saw them, an eerie hush fell over the room. "Guitar or keyboards?" she asked him quietly.

"Keyboards," he whispered. "And you grab my bass."

Kayla led him to the keyboards then took a stool and sat beside him, waiting as she cradled his bass on her lap.

He paused for a moment, his fingers poised over the keys, then he began to play an Eastern rhythm. A song no one had heard before. Picking up on the rhythm, Kayla began to lay down a soft bass line as Peter licked his lips and sang.

"Some thing doesn't change.. .there is only one... always changing inside...what does it become... Can you dig it? Do you know? Would you care to let it show?"

By the last verse, Kayla could sing the counterpoint on the chorus and did so.

"There is only feeling in this world of life and death... I sing the praise of NeverChange with every single breath... Can you dig it? Do you know? Would you care to let it show? Can you dig it? Do you know? Would you care to let it show?"

Kayla stretched out a soprano "Oh-oh..." at the end of the words and the song ended.

The crowd erupted.

Kayla waited until the noise subsided, then stepped back up to the microphone. "Now that you've heard us, what do you say we keep playing?"

The roar of the crowd was their answer. Micky and Davy came back onstage and they finished their set.

Jackson met them backstage. "That was wonderful! I'd like to hire you for a ten-week run..."

"Even after that?" Kayla asked, referring to the rough beginning.

"Even after that! What do you say?"

"Say yes, before he changes his mind, man!" Micky urged.

"Micky, why would we want to play here after the way we were treated?" Peter snapped.

"We need this gig, Pete!" Micky said. "Besides, after what Kay said to them I don't think we're going to have any more problems!"

"They deserved it!" Kayla retorted.

"We'll take it," Davy said suddenly. "But there had best not be another scene like tonight!"

"I assure you," Jackson said, "that will not happen again!"

"It better not," Peter growled, arm around Kayla's waist... protectively.

Kayla's eyes widened as his arm tightened around her. "We'll do it," she decided. "If only to prove that I can take care of myself!" The last was directed at Peter.

Peter smiled and hugged her before releasing the protective deathgrip -- holding her loosely now.

"Great!" Jackson gushed and dashed off to get the contracts for the four to sign.

"Ye better sign your married name," Davy told Kayla. "Or the contracts'll be null and void in a week!"

Kayla shook her head. "If I didn't know better, I'd say this was all a plot of Peter's to get me to use the name again!"

"Good thing you know better," Peter said, only half-teasingly as he bent to kiss the top of her head.

"'Kayla Tork' it is," she sighed. "It's too much hassle to do this over again in a week."

Once the contracts were signed, Jackson looked them over. "Ah, married, I see!" He nodded at Kayla's left hand, where the ring still lay. "I should have known by the ring... Sorry for the misunderstanding, Mrs. Tork." Then he left for the night.

"You still wear it," Peter gasped.

"I told you I'd keep it on," Kayla reminded him. "I know how important it is to you."

"Just think," he smiled. "In a week, that ring will change into a real wedding band for you..."

"Will you guys cut the cuddlefest and come help us break down the instruments?" Davy called.

Wednesday morning before the Friday wedding dawned too early for anybody's tastes. Peter opened his blinded eyes and sighed, drinking in the strawberry scent of Kayla's hair and smiling. Two more days... he thought.

He registered the shift in her breathing as she began to wake up... but was totally unprepared for the hand that squeezed his, the snuggling in closer to him ... and the shudder that wracked her slender form.

"What's the matter?" he whispered.

"Nothing," Kayla demurred. "Just cold..."

He slid his hand down her arm and then down her leg. "You don't feel cold..." On sudden impulse and perhaps a glimmer of inspiration, he slid his hand between her knees and slightly up her thighs -- and felt her suddenly go board-stiff against him.

Pulling his hand out and laying it on her shoulder, he whispered again, "What's the matter, Honey?"

"Just thinking..."

"About..." he whispered, kissing where her neck met her shoulder.

"Friday," she answered.

"Nervous?" The lips and gentle kisses moved to between her shoulder blades. He moved her hair out of the way and kissed right through the pajama top.

"Petrified," she admitted, squirming slightly as he hit a ticklish spot.

"Why?" he asked, all seriousness. "It'll be just the same as it is now -- well, almost..."

"It's that 'almost' that's got me a nervous wreck!" Kayla replied. "The wedding will be wonderful, I'm sure. It's the thought of the wedding night that's about to do me in!"

Peter raised up on one elbow. "Don't you want to make love to me, Honey?"

"I do! It's just that... well, I've never...at least, not as Kayla..."

"You're afraid of the pain... and of the 'difference.'"

"It's quite a difference!" she agreed. "I mean, I know the mechanics, of course, but I've never been in these shoes, so to speak. I don't know what to expect!"

Peter pushed her hair from her face, looking at her as if those beautiful eyes could actually see her. "One moment of pain," he whispered. "And then a world of pleasure. I promise."

Kayla sighed. "Time will tell, I suppose. But the waiting is starting to wear on me."

"Two more days, Honey... just two more days..." He crushed her close to him. "Of course, the offer to elope is still open..."

"And disappoint everybody?" Kayla shook her head. "Davy can't wait to give me away!"

Peter chuckled. "Man, once he accepts something, he accepts it all the way!"

Kayla grinned. Davy had been strutting around the Pad for days, proud as a peacock. "You'd think I really was his daughter!"

"More like his big sister." Peter rolled over onto his back, seemingly heedless of the fact that his pajama top had become undone during the nightmare he'd had. He lay an arm over his eyes and sighed. "It's noisy outside --- the birds are going to town!"

"It's a beautiful day." Kayla twisted to peer out the half-open window. "I hope it lasts."

"Me too." Peter absently ran his free hand up and down his fiancée’s back. "I love you, do you know that?"

"I know," she replied, for once without one second of hesitation. "I love you too."

Peter smiled. Then he sat up and hugged his knees to his chest, turning toward the warmth of the sun outside the window. "I suppose I'd better get up... my turn for breakfast." But still, he made no move to get out of bed.

"Uh, Peter? You could make breakfast a lot more efficiently in the kitchen."

Peter turned toward the sound of her voice, chuckling. "Thank you, o efficient one!" he teased.

"Well, it stands to reason..." she prompted. "So what's keeping you?"

Suddenly he lunged, catching her around the waist and pulling her back down onto the bed. "You," he whispered before capturing her mouth in a hungry kiss.

"Ask a silly question...." Kayla closed her eyes, fears departing as she emptied her mind of all conscious thought.

After a long few moments, Peter pulled away, gasping for breath. "...can't wait till I don't have to stop..." he whispered huskily, and Kayla felt his hands around her shoulders and waist trembling.

"Two days," she reminded him. "Just you wait..."

"It'll be worth the wait...." he said, caressing her cheek.

"But for now..." she prompted.

"Breakfast, I know." He kissed her again and slid his longer legs over hers, clambering out of bed and stretching a kink out with his back to her. He glided his hands over the dresser's drawers until he found the one that held his 'unmentionables', and pulled out a clean pair before finding his way into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. After a moment, the shower started up.

Kayla snuggled back under the covers, longing for a few more moments of sleep. Unfortunately, that damnable programming combined with her whirling thoughts begged to differ. Images of Friday night kept traipsing through her mind, each one leaving her more confused than the last.

Peter emerged moments later, in only his briefs, towel-drying his damp blonde locks.

Kayla's jaw dropped. Of course she'd seen Peter in his underwear before -- as Mike! Since The Change, he'd been very circumspect, very proper in his dress. "Peter, um, did you forget something?"

Peter jumped a few inches, hand flying to his bare chest as he tried to control his heartbeat. "Kay!" he squeaked. "I didn't know you were still in here..."

"Well, I am!" She quickly turned her back, but not before she'd seen more of Peter than she'd imagined. "Just put some clothes on," she ordered.

She heard rustling and when she turned back, he was in jeans and an orange button-down shirt and was trying valiantly to fasten his belt on his left hip -- as always.

First time he'd done that since losing his sight -- she'd always strung it in front for him.

"Still with the belt thing," she teased. "Didn't anybody ever tell you the buckle goes in front?"

"I like it here," he said pointedly. "Doesn't scrape the bass and besides, it makes me unique. Hasn't felt right last few weeks..."

"Trust me, Peter. There's nobody quite like you!"

"I hope not!" Peter said, grinning. "The last thing we need's another blind bassist/keyboardist engaged to his very best friend!"

That sent Kayla into a fit of laughter. "No, I don't think the world could handle it! We're both pretty unique!"

"That we are, Pretty Lady, that we -- Ah-HAH!" Peter crowed as he finally got the belt buckled. He moved to the closet and knelt, sweeping the floor till he found his moccasin boots. Holding them, he moved back to the bed and pulled on his socks before he pulled on the boots. Pausing, he asked, "You didn't match all the socks in my drawer, didja?"

Kayla sat silently for a moment. "Would you believe me if I said no?"

"Not really."

"You'd be right." She swung her legs off the bed and stood, going to his dresser. "If it's that important to you, I can always undo them all..."

"You do and I'll be sorry," he cracked, doing an uncanny impression of Micky.

"Look at it this way -- even if your socks don't match your outfit, you'll always know they match each other!"

Peter closed his eyes and laughed. Then he smiled at her. "After we're married, think I can interest you in a silk nightgown on a permanent basis?"

Kayla sighed in frustrated bemusement. "We'll talk about it.. .and you're going to have to do some pretty fancy talking!"

"I'm getting good at that," Peter said, standing up. "Davy's threatened to cut my tongue out -- says it's turning as silver as his and he's jealous!"

"He's right," Kayla pointed out. "I don't think you have a shy bone in your body now."

"Does that bother you? I'm a lot different than I was..." He sighed. "Sometimes I wonder what people think of the 'new me'...."

"Probably that you finally grew up," Kayla answered. "It's not that you're different, just more mature, more like an adult."

"And what do you think?" He spread his arms in a silent invitation.

She settled into his arms. "I think you did a fine job of growing up. I always knew someday you'd show us what you were really like. It just took this to bring out your best qualities."

"Which are..." he finished unsubtly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Strength. Honesty of feeling and emotion. Patience." She grimaced at the last. "Plenty of patience. And courage, most of all. From facing your blindness without flinching. I don't know how you managed that, but you did. You make me very proud."

He hugged her. "It was hard at first... .but I had to be strong for you. You'd just undergone a huge shift yourself, and you didn't need me falling apart on you." Peter shrugged. "And now... now it's just part of who I am. I've accepted it."

Kayla whispered, "A lot of people would see blindness as making them less than whole."

There was silence for a very long time. "I did, Michaela." He felt her head snap up, and he nodded, finishing just as quietly as he began, "For weeks, all I could think of was that I loved you and what right did I have to expect you to love a cripple."

"I never thought of you that way, Peter."

"I know. But that's how I saw myself."

Kayla gave him one last hard squeeze, then pulled away. "We're getting maudlin here. We've got a wedding to get ready for!"

"Agreed." He moved toward the door, then stopped and turned. "You know what made the difference, why my attitude shifted?"

"What?" she asked softly.

"That night on the boardwalk." He smiled. "When you told me I was just blind. That I could still see, just not with my eyes. Knowing that Kayla Nesmith thought I was still capable --- well, that meant the world to me. Still does."

"I'm glad," she said simply. "And it was true -- every word of it. Still is."

"Good." And he was gone.

After a moment, the distinctive scent of butter melting in a frying pan reached her nose and the sizzle of an egg being poured into it hit her ears. Prompted by the appetizing aroma, Kayla finally roused herself. Gathering up fresh clothes, she headed to take her own shower.

Ten minutes later, she walked into the kitchen, wet hair still wrapped in a towel. "That smells wonderful!"

"Thanks," Peter grinned, serving up bacon and eggs. "Lucky I didn't burn it -- doing this by smell and timing is a lot different than scanning it to see if it's black!"

"Looks good to me." Kayla sat down, picking up her fork to taste a small sample. "Tastes good, too."

"Thanks." Peter sat down and began to eat... and it was then that Kayla noticed he'd only made two portions. "Hey!" Kayla looked around the large room. "Where are Micky and Davy?"

"Still asleep," Peter grinned between bites.

"Ah... I remember what it was like! Sleeping till noon, waking up to full sun instead of just the sunrise---"

"What, you miss it?" He mock-pouted. "And here I thought you liked sharing the early mornings with me."

"I do. But I still kinda miss sleeping in late. I was a night owl for many a year, you know."

Peter smiled, but didn't say any more. Then he poked at his eggs and said softly, "They can get their own breakfast." He raised his eyes and looked in her direction. "This I made for the woman I love and me. Nobody else."

Kayla laughed. "Nobody else, huh? I'm honored, Kind Sir!"

"Good. You should be." And the smile faded. "Because I love you, Kayla, and I'll do anything for you. Anything. Even putting off my --- uhm -- needs... until you're ready."

Kayla regarded him solemnly. "You really mean that?"

He reached across the table and took her hand. "With all my heart and soul, Michaela."

"I love you too, Peter Tork. And, to tell you the truth, I'm a lot less nervous about our wedding night."

Peter tilted his head. "Do you mean that?"

"Yes. Somehow, knowing that you would be willing to wait... made me realise that it's not necessary. I trust you enough to know everything will be as wonderful as you promised."

Peter's head came up so fast his straight hair actually bounced. "Wh... What?"

Kayla laughed at the expression on his face. "Well, I didn't mean right now! But just knowing that you would be willing to wait until I'm comfortable makes it seem less necessary to wait. Does that make any sense?"

His dazzling smile was her response. He closed the space between them and took her in his arms, kissing her deeply, letting her feel his answer.

"Two days," she reminded him again. "It's going to seem like forever if we keep on like this!"

"Two days," he repeated, holding her close and kissing her neck. "I can wait... forever if I have to..." He silenced her response with another kiss.

Peter rolled over and felt, in his sleep, the breaking of physical contact with Kayla. Before his eyes could open, she had automatically rolled over as well, and her hand was now in the small of his back. With a smile, he surrendered to sleep once more.

Only to be jangled to alertness by the shrill sound of Davy and Micky's alarm clock -- a sound he'd heard many times before, but never while he was asleep!

He raised up on his elbows, astonished. "Kay, wake up!" he cried, pulling her hand away from him and releasing it, severing all physical contact.

"Wh-what?" Kayla mumbled, startled. "Peter?"

"Yeah." He was half out of bed by now, fumbling out of his pajamas and reaching for his jeans.

"Whassamatter?"

"Listen. Hear that?"

Kayla listened. "It's Davy's alarm clock. So what?" She turned onto her side, closing her eyes again.

"So -- that means it's noon." Peter stood up, feeling his way to the closet.

"Noon!" Kayla sat bolt upright in the bed. "Oh my G-d -- we are so late!"

"Yep!" Peter said, grabbing a shirt that one needed earplugs to look at and shrugging it on. He grabbed his boots and socks and sat there on the floor, pulling them on -- and getting the boots on the wrong feet.

Standing up and fingercombing his hair, he made his way swiftly into the living room to start brunch, calling over his shoulder, "How come we slept this late?"

"Don't ask me!" Kayla jumped up, frantically searching for a clean shirt. "You're the morning person --- you never oversleep!"

A distinctive snort came from the kitchen. "Tell me about it! We gotta hurry --- the priest will be here at two to start the rehearsal!"

Kayla was very nearly a blur as she made a mad dash for the shower. "Of all the days!"

Two hours later, the priest arrived and they began to plan the intricate dance of the ceremony. They were interrupted twice -- first by Purdy bringing Kayla's wedding gown over, and second by Babbitt -- who stammered his way through a hello.

Peter frowned. "You sound nervous."

"Oh... yeah... well... uhm...." Babbitt shifted his weight and sighed.

"What is it, Mr. B.?" Kayla asked.

Babbitt took a deep breath. "HereyougomyweddinggifttoyouhaveanicelifetogetherIreallymeanthat!" He shoved a piece of paper into Peter's hands and ran out the door.

Peter blinked. "Wow..."

Davy came up behind him. His eyes widened as he read the paper. "Hey fellas --- d'ye know what this is?"

"If we did, would we be standing here waiting for you to tell us?" Micky said.

"It's the BLOODY DEED TO THE PAD!" Davy screeched.

Kayla reached for the paper, nearly ripping it out of Peter's hands. "He's right! He deeded the place over to us free and clear!"

Peter's eyes went huge. "You... you mean no more rent? Ever? We can actually fix this place up?"

"That's exactly what it means!" Kayla hugged him quickly. "Of course, now we're responsible for taxes and upkeep, but we don't have to worry about making the rent every month!"

"I wonder what prompted him to ---" Davy began, then he saw the smirk on Purdy's face as she finished sewing the flowers onto Kayla's veil. "Okay, out with it."

"Out with what?" Purdy asked, innocently, but her grin couldn't be hidden.

"What did you say to him, Mrs. P?" Kayla asked suspiciously.

"Oh, I just reminded him of his pledge that when one of you boys got married he'd give you some property to get you out of his hair. I told him if he didn't keep that pledge, not only would Kayla's brother get on him, but mine would as well." Her grin grew. "He's had dealings with my brother before."

"Hey, I didn't know you had a brother!" Micky exclaimed.

"I sure do," she smiled. "He's the chief prosecutor in LA county -- and he'd gotten on Henry before about slumlording."

"I can't wait to start fixing this place up!" Kayla placed around the room, sizing it up in her mind. "You know, if we knocked out this wall, and..."

Peter followed the sound of her voice and took her shoulders. "Let's get married first, Honey. Then we can worry about remodeling."

"Sorry," Kayla smiled. "I got a little carried away!"

"No..." Peter said. Suddenly he scooped her into his arms and walked her to the chaise lounge, dumping her down. "This is a little carried away..."

"Peter!" she protested. "Not in front of the priest!"

Said priest laughed. "Not to worry, Miss Nesmith --- I've seen it all before!"

"But not from us!" Kayla rose from the chaise, smoothing her rumpled clothes. "Let's finish this rehearsal -- we've only got a few hours!"

At sunset, Peter stood beside the makeshift altar on the beach, practically vibrating from nervousness. "Is it time?" he whispered to Micky for the tenth time in five minutes.

Kayla was little better, standing stiffly in the downstairs bedroom as Mrs. Purdy fussed over her dress and veil.

There came a sudden rap on the door. "It's me," Davy called. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Kayla answered. "Come on in..."

Davy opened the door -- and stopped dead. "...K...Kayla?!?!?!" he gasped, huge brown eyes raking her form up and down.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, alarmed by his response. She walked over to the full length mirror Mrs. Purdy had lent her for the occasion. Looking at the reflection, her face took on an expression very like Davy's.

There stood a slender young woman, raven hair loose and curling softly around her shoulders. She was swathed in white from head to toe. The long, flowing gown was silk, with lace appliqués scattered over the floaty skirt. The style was simple -- long, loose sleeves, scoop neck, and an Empire waistline. She looked like a princess stepped out of a fairy tale!

"Kay.. you're... you're beautiful!" Davy gasped.

"Thanks to our neighbor." Kayla turned to Mrs. Purdy, giving her a tight hug. "I don't know how you managed, but thank you! For everything!"

"It was no trouble, dear..." Purdy said, hugging her. "This was my wedding gown. You can repay me by being the best wife you can be to that boy." Then she kissed Kayla on the forehead. "Go on, little girl --- get married."

Kayla adjusted her veil, taking one last look to see if it was straight. Satisfied, she turned to Davy. "Ready?"

In response, Davy held out his elbow for her to take... just as the first notes of the bridal march sounded. "Right on time, too."

Kayla slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow. "Let's go, then."

Peter's eyes grew huge as Micky whispered to him what his new bride looked like. All too soon, he held her hand in his.

"Holding up?" Kayla whispered to him as she took her place beside him.

"Barely," he whispered, running his fingers along the lace and silk of her sleeve. "How are you doing, love?"

"About the same," she answered. "Just hold me up!"

The priest began his spiel on marriage, and then finally he asked the important questions. "Will you, Peter Halsten Tork, take this woman, Bobbie Michaela Nesmith, to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, in good times and in bad? Do you promise to love her and cherish her and in all things cleave only unto her in faithfulness so long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Peter whispered.

The priest repeated the questions to Kayla, adding the phrase "love and obey him" as was custom.

"I do," she answered softly.

Rings were exchanged -- and to Kayla's surprise, Micky and Davy had chipped in and gotten a plain gold band for Peter to wear! Peter felt it slide onto his finger and smiled in surprise.

The priest then announced, "By the power vested in me by G-d and the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss the ---" he broke off, chuckling.

Peter and Kayla were already kissing.

When the priest cleared his throat, they came up for air and turned to face their assembled friends, hand in hand. "Ladies and gentlemen," the priest announced, "I now present to you Peter and Kayla Tork!"

The small crowd applauded.

After the ceremony, the wedding party made its way into the Pad. Micky and Davy, in addition to their other duties, had taken it upon themselves to organize an informal reception. They'd cleaned the place till it sparkled, and wrapped yards of crepe paper streamers on the staircase by way of decoration. A small buffet was laid out on the kitchen table.

Kayla and Peter stood just inside the beach-side door, greeting each guest as they entered. "How many more?" Peter whispered through a smile that was becoming more plastered-on by the second. "My feet hurt."

"Nearly done," Kayla whispered back. "Eight... no, nine to go."

"I hope that number doesn't go up," Peter whispered back, nodding as another man shook his hand.

Minutes later, the reception was in full swing, with Micky and Davy on drums and guitar respectively, providing some two-part dance music. Kayla and Peter were dancing the first dance as a married couple -- her first dance in public! Peter grinned. "Hating it yet?" he teased.

"At least I don't have to lead!" she retorted.

"I hear more feet... are we being joined?"

Kayla opened her eyes and looked over his shoulder. She let out an involuntary gasp at the sight that greeted her.

"I take it that's a yes... and that they're bad dancers?" Peter said with a smile.

"It's my father!" Kayla hissed. "What's he doing here?"

"You're kidding," Peter gasped, all levity fading from his face.

"Would I joke about that?" she demanded. "Who told him about this?"

"Okay, Honey," he said, deliberately using the nickname and hoping its calming influence would work. "Are we still alone on the dance floor or have others joined us?"

"They're starting to dance, too. What difference does it make?"

"Lead," Peter whispered. "Dance us off the floor and somewhere private without us being noticed --- we need to talk this out."

Kayla obediently waltzed them to the edge of the makeshift dance floor, finding them a secluded spot behind the staircase. "Now what?"

Unfortunately the older man had seen the movement and was moving toward them slowly.

"Now we --- Kay? Honey, what is it?"

"He's coming over here!" she whispered.

Then he loomed over them. "Are you Peter Tork?" he asked.

"Why?" Peter asked, standing up and pushing Kayla behind him.

"I heard you're marrying a lady with the same last name as my boy -- and I wanna talk to her about my son."

Kayla looked at the man who was nearly a stranger to her. And to Mike. He hadn't stayed around much longer than it had taken to father a child. What could he possibly want now?

"I'm sorry," Peter said. "You'll have to excuse us.. we're having a party and --"

Mr. N stopped him with a hand on his chest. "I will speak to her."

"No you won't."

"You can't stop me, blind man."

Peter's jaw clenched. Kayla could see he was struggling to keep his new temper under control. She put a restraining hand on his arm. "Don't. He's not worth it. Not today."

The older man looked at her. "Are you the Nesmith girl?"

"Not anymore. The name is now Tork."

Peter smiled at that.

The older man frowned. "Did you know Michael Nesmith?"

"You could say that," Kayla replied. "But he hasn't been here for a long time."

He sighed. "What were you to him? Girlfriend? Ex-wife?"

Kayla looked him straight in the eye. "More like a sister, actually. What do you want with him?"

He sighed. "To... to apologize for not being the father he needed. To see if he would forgive me." He bowed his head. "But now I don't know where he is..."

Kayla stepped away from Peter. Taking the older man's hand, she spoke in a low voice. "I don't know where he is, either. But I promise you that wherever he is, he knows how you feel, and he understands."

His lips quirked. "You don't know our history, Mrs. Tork."

"I know," she assured him. "Mike and I were very close -- almost like one person at times. I know everything about him."

Mr. N. studied the woman for a moment, then enfolded her in his arms in a very fatherly hug. His shoulders shook for a second. "Thank you."

"No, thank you." Kayla closed her eyes. This day was starting to feel like a dream. First the wedding, now seeing a father she couldn't even acknowledge. She pulled away, automatically returning to Peter's side, as much for her own support as for his. "If I do see Mike, I'll be sure to tell him... everything."

Mr. N nodded and turned to go. Then he turned back. "You look SO much like my wife...." Shaking his head, he left.

Kayla turned to Peter, burying her head in his shoulder, unable to speak.

He held her tightly for a few moments, then whispered, "Are you okay, Honey?"

She shook her head, not looking up. "Yes. No. I don't know..." she mumbled. "I can't believe this! He's been a lousy father for over twenty years, and when he finally decides to make amends, I'm like this!" She gestured at her gowned form.

"I love you," Peter whispered into her hair.

"I love you," she sighed. With a final deep breath, she pulled herself together. "We'd better get back. They're going to start wondering where we are."

"Lead the way, Honey." Peter was glaring at the spot where Mr. N. had stood.

"You can stop with the look. He's gone." Kayla led the way back to the dance floor.

Eventually, people began leaving. Once the four were alone, Davy cleared his throat. "We'd best get going, right, Micky?"

"Yeah, man. I'll get the duffles and my jacket."

"What's going on? Where are you two going?" Kayla watched in confusion as Micky and Davy put on their jackets and grabbed loaded duffle bags.

"We decided, since this place is a little... close... to give the two of you two weeks alone. Mick and me are gonna crash in San Fran -- with me cousin."

Peter's jaw dropped. "What?" he gasped.

"It's our way of giving you two a honeymoon," Micky explained. "Since we can't afford to send you anywhere, we're doing the next best thing -- giving you some privacy!"

Peter grabbed them, one at a time, in a huge bear hug. "Thanks, man," he whispered to each.

Kayla echoed the gesture with a hug of her own. "And thank you for being here today -- it means the world to us."

"No problem," Davy said, smiling. "You two are our best friends. It's the least we could do!" With a wink and a kiss on her cheek, they were gone.

Peter heard the door close behind the pair. He stood there for a moment and then whispered, "We're... alone?"

"Yes," Kayla confirmed. "At last!"

A slow smile spread over Peter's face. Wordlessly, he spread out his arms in invitation.

Kayla went into them willingly. "We did it," she sighed.

"We sure did," he confirmed, wrapping his strong arms around her slender frame and hugging her with all the love that was inside of him.

"Happy?" she asked quietly.

"Deliriously." He kissed the top of her head. "You hungry, love?"

"Not really."

"I wasn't talking about food."

"Oh!" Kayla giggled. "You mean..."

Peter nodded. "Your call, my bride."

She was silent for a long moment. Finally, she looked up at Peter, with her heart in her eyes. "I love you -- and I think it's time."

To her surprise, he released her and moved to the bedroom door, opening it. Then he moved back towards her. "Say something -- give me a guide."

"I love you..."

Peter smiled and found his bride --- then kissed her and, mid-kiss, scooped her into his arms and made his way back to the bedroom, carrying her unerringly over the threshold ---

And then his leg struck the bed that to him was sticking way out too far, and they both tumbled onto it when he lost his balance. Kayla screeched as she felt herself falling.

Peter sat up. "Are you okay?" Then he frowned, running a hand along the bed. "Kay..."

"I'm fine," she said in disgust. "You wouldn't believe what those two have done!"

"I think I can guess. The bed... isn't two twins pushed together anymore, is it?"

"No, it's a king!" Kayla picked herself up. "How did they do it?"

"With those two?" Peter snorted slightly. "Anything's possible."

"Tell me about it! I just wish they'd live our bed alone!"

"Tell you?" Peter smiled. "I'd rather do something else to you, Honey..."

Kayla grinned. "Like... show me, maybe?"

"Mmm..." Peter purred, reaching for her and gently unzipping her wedding gown. His lips claimed hers as he slid the garment off her shoulders and let it fall off the side of the bed.

Kayla reached for the buttons of his shirt, slowly working them free. Reaching the end of the long row, she parted the sides, running her hands along his chest.

He let out a moan and ran his fingers along her sides and legs, then slid her bra straps down and caressed the bare flesh revealed there. "Oh, Kayla..." he sighed. "You're so beautiful..."

Kayla nuzzled the bare skin at the base of his throat. "Hmm... you're not too shabby yourself, Shotgun..."

He made a low growl in his throat and pushed her down onto the bed as he threw his own shirt off and leaned over her, kissing and caressing her as they made short work of the remaining hindrances.

After a few moments, a sharp gasp of pain emitted into the darkened room ... then after another few moments, all that remained were the low moans and gasps of pleasure.

Kayla rolled over to escape the bright sunshine streaming through the bedroom window. As always, Peter followed, arm firmly around her waist.

This morning, however, something felt... different. Her eyes flew open in alarm as she realised what it was. Instead of the usual nightclothes, she and Peter were nude!

She gaped in horror at the male form beside her, then, as she spied the ring on his left hand, she began to convulse in laughter.

Peter opened one sleepy eye, alerted by the shivers he felt. "What is it, lover?" he mumbled.

"We're... and when I woke up, I thought..." she broke off, unable to continue for the laughter.

Peter slid a hand down her form, and smiled. "You thought I'd taken advantage of you... you forgot you were my wife."

"Uh-huh!" she said, wiping tears of laughter. "I was horrified! I couldn't think of anything but the fact that we were here together -- in the all-together!" At the last, she broke out again into peals of laughter.

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her. "And you were horrified at what we had done."

"Boy, was I!" she laughed. "And after all that talk about waiting until after marriage! I thought we'd gone and jumped the gun!"

Peter buried his head between her shoulder blades and laughed... then began kissing the bare skin there, sending delighted shivers down her spine.

"Ummm!" Kayla moaned. "I'm beginning to wonder why we waited so long..."

"Because my bride wasn't ready," Peter said matter-of-factly, never stopping the kisses, but adding his hands to the equation.

Kayla turned over to face him, stringing kisses along his jawline. "She's ready, she's ready!" she mumbled.

Peter let out a delighted laugh as he took his wife into his arms... and recreated the wonderfully sensual dance they'd performed the night before.

"I'm curious about something," Peter asked, speaking loudly so Kayla could hear him both around his mouthful of toothpaste and over the shower she was in.

"What?" she called, rinsing the shampoo out of her hair.

"I know Mike wasn't exactly... innocent...and I'm wondering... which is better? As a man or as a woman?"

Kayla cut the shower off. Wrapping herself in a towel, she stepped out. "I can't believe you asked that!"

Peter turned toward the sound of her voice, blind eyes seeming to twinkle mischievously. "I'm curious, lover. That's all."

"It's different! And that's all you're getting from me!" She shook her head, scrubbing at the dripping hair with a dry towel.

Peter shrugged and moved from the bathroom. "I wonder how the guys are doing," he said, pulling on his charcoal pants and reaching for the shirt she'd laid on the bed.

"We could always call them," Kayla suggested.

Peter turned to answer her, and his foot impacted on the bed again. He sank onto it, half-screeching a litany of curses ---

In four languages.

Kayla ran to the bedroom, watching him from the doorway. "That's impressive," she remarked as he rubbed the injured foot. "But are any of those suitable for mixed company?"

"Not really...." he admitted, blushing.

"I didn't know you spoke another language." Kayla knelt down to peer at the foot. "I don't think you did any permanent damage," she reported.

"Good," he winced. "Come on, Kay... you sure did know! Remember when I translated when we got lost in Mexico?"

"Even I know enough Spanish to get simple directions!" Kayla protested. "But I never learned those words!"

"Well, I learned them traveling through Europe when I was a kid..." Peter admitted. "But I'd forgotten my fluency ... till It happened."

"That's amazing!" Kayla exclaimed. "Was that German I heard?"

"And French..." Peter mumbled, embarrassed.

"German, French, Spanish and English!" Kayla ticked them off on her fingers. "Well, it could come in handy some day..."

Peter lowered his head to hide it, but the redness of his cheeks increased.

Kayla noticed his discomfort. "Peter, are you embarrassed by that?"

"By what?" he whispered, but he squirmed.

"By the fact that The Change made you... I don't know... more intelligent?" Kayla sat by him, taking his hand. "Does it make you uncomfortable in some way?"

"Yeah..." he raised his head. "I used to get beaten when I spoke the lenguas, you know? They'd call me a showoff and --" He winced, shaking his head. "And now, with this... enhancement....all four are back in my head. It gets confusing sometimes.. thinking in four lenguas, switching back and forth without realizing it..."

"Well, I think it's wonderful!" Kayla said firmly. "How many girls do you know have husbands that can sweet-talk them in four different languages?"

Peter smiled. "I never thought of it that way before."

"You really have turned into a silver tongued devil, you know," she jibed. "Davy'd better watch out!"

The smile grew and his arms were suddenly encircling her waist. "My silver tongue is only for you... as are my blinded eyes... my expanded mind... my body...my heart... all I am, all I can be -- todo para it, mi amorita..."

Kayla tightened her arms around him. "I don't know what you're saying, love, but keep talking!"

"All for you, my love," Peter translated, kissing her shoulder. "Todo...all...for you...oooooohhh Kayla...." He shuddered, half-crushing her to him.

"Oh, Peter..." Kayla sighed. "Keep talking...please...."

"Ich liebe dich," Peter whispered as he nuzzled her neck. "Je t'ame...te amo...I love you..."

"Ditto." She kissed his right cheek. "Ditto." Left cheek. "And ditto." She lit her lips brush his gently.

Peter sighed and leaned his forehead against hers, whispering something in German so fast she couldn't even understand what the words were.

"Whatever," Kayla chuckled as she maneuvered them to the side of the bed.

Peter chuckled. He whispered, "I was just marveling -- six months ago, things were so different.. this is like a wild and wonderful dream and I don't ever wanna wake up!"

"It's crazy," Kayla agreed. "But I wouldn't want it any other way."

"I have no regrets," Peter whispered, sliding his hands underneath the towel she wore. "Not what Glaxo did to you, not what he did to me, not losing my sight -- as long as you're beside me, I'm complete."

"We finally accepted it." Kayla stopped his wandering hands momentarily. "I didn't even realise it until now, but we both finally stopped fighting the Changes."

He paused, a smile spreading across his face. "Yes... we have! When did that happen, I wonder?"

"It happened for me the day we set the date."

"I think for me it happened the day Babbitt caught us -- the day I clobbered myself!" He laughed at the memory.

Kayla grinned. "Knocked some sense into you, huh?"

Peter growled and lunged, pushing her down to the mattress. "Careful, Honey... this sensible man loses it around his wife...."

She wrapped his arms around him, reaching up to kiss him again. "So who needs sense?"

It was another hour or so before either of them emerged from the bedroom.

Peter was washing dishes, accompanied by the soft strains of Kayla's guitar work, when the phone jangled into the relative quietness of the Pad. Peter jumped, a wet hand going to his heart. He let out a loud curse -- in what language, Kayla didn't pick up right away.

"What a mouth!" Kayla put her guitar aside, reaching the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, you told me never to hide them again!" Peter protested.

"Little domestic squabble?" Davy chuckled in her ear.

"Hey, Davy!" Kayla threw a useless quelling glance at Peter, who was still mumbling to himself about not needing a heart, anyway. "Just Peter showing off his linguistic skills. So, what's up?"

"Hey, he startled me!" Peter said in his own defense. Her cowing looks were lost on the blind man.

Davy was very silent on the other end. After a moment, he gasped out, "What linguistic skills? He could barely speak the Queen's English before you went missing!"

"I know!" Kayla picked up the phone and walked closer to Peter, reaching out to swat his shoulder. "Now he's cursing -- in four different languages!"

"You must be joking!" Davy gasped. "Peter... four?"

"Yep! I counted. French, German, Spanish, and English. I can't keep up with him!"

"Good," Peter chuckled, pulling the plug on the empty sink. "At least now I can talk about you and you won't know what I'm saying!"

Davy, overhearing, chuckled slightly. "This I gotta hear."

"It's something," Kayla admitted. "So how's Frisco?"

"Noisy," Davy admitted. "We're drivin' back t'night to get ready for the gig tomorrow. You two gonna be up for it?"

Kayla's jaw dropped in horror. "Oh, my G-d... I'd almost forgotten about it! Of course we'll be ready!"

"For what?" Peter asked, frowning as he dried his hands and the sink.

"Good! See you at the March then! Happy Honeymoon," Davy chuckled as he hung up.

"I can't believe I forgot about it!" Kayla replaced the receiver in the cradle.

"Forgot about what?" Peter asked, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor and taking his wife in his arms.

"The gig at the March," she reminded him. "What's the matter with me? I've never forgotten a gig before!"

Peter smiled and nuzzled her hair. "You've never been married before, either..." he teased.

She reached back to tangle her hand in his silky hair. "Marriage isn't supposed to make you forgetful, Peter!"

"No, but all the... uh....exercise you've been getting since..." He bent to kiss her and cut off her spluttering answer, feeling the heat radiating from her cheeks.

She sighed in contentment, then roused herself enough to pull slightly away from him. "Much as I like the exercise, we have a gig to prepare for."

Peter chuckled. He kissed her forehead, brushing the ebony hair off the left side of her forehead. "Well, I see the pragmatism stayed."

She stilled at that. "Does it bother you? I'm never going to be one of those fluffy airheads guys seem to like so much..."

"Honey, if you had become an airhead, I don't think I would have fallen so hard for you. What made you a unique person translated quite well from one form to another -- and that person is whom I cherish."

"That's a relief." Her lips quirked in amusement. "I just had an awful vision of me running around here, all a-flutter, wringing my hands at every little thing!"

Quite deadpan, Peter said, "No, Amorita, that was me Before."

Kayla gave an inelegant snort. "That sure changed! You're actually quite --- forceful now!"

Peter's teasing smile faded. "Kayla -- does that bother you?"

"Not at all." She reached up to lay a soft hand on his cheek. "That's a good change, Peter. You were too passive Before. You used to let us walk all over you."

"No more," Peter said, shaking his head. Then he began chewing on his lips as he frowned deeply.

Kayla gently stilled the nervous action with her thumb. "What?"

"Michaela...does it bother you... that I'm blind?" The question had obviously been festering inside him for some time, by the halting way he asked it.

"Does it bother me? Yes." She placed a hand over his mouth, stopping his automatic response. "Of course it bothers me, Peter. I love you -- I hate that this happened to you. But do I mind it? No, because I know that you are the same man, the same beautiful person, that you've always been. Blindness could never change that."

Peter's gorgeous eyes closed and he nodded simply, brushing his lips against her palm.

She removed the hand, reaching down to capture both of his. "Now that that's settled, I don't want to hear you say that again, understand?"

His dimpled smile was her response. "Understood. Now... how's about we try to whip the guitar/bass lines before the gig?"

"You're on." Kayla kissed his chin, then pulled him toward the bandstand.

At five o'clock the next afternoon, a very distinctive horn blast sounded outside the Pad.

Micky and Davy had arrived.

Peter swore again as he rubbed his head and closed the refrigerator door. "Surprises seem to be their specialty lately," he scowled.

"You know Micky always had rotten timing." Kayla opened the front door just in time for Davy to enter.

"Ready, luv?" he asked, smiling up at her. "Hey, what's Peter so mad at?"

Peter whispered something in French as he passed behind Kayla.

She blushed bright red. "I'm not telling him that, Peter Tork!"

Peter's laughter echoed in the small room as he moved to the bandstand and began unplugging their instruments.

Davy looked at him. "Do I want to know?" he asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Depends," Kayla answered. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you! Your call!"

Davy laughed. "Big Peter, we're in the blue eight-buttons with the charcoal pants!"

Peter nodded as he finished breaking down the bandstand. "I'll change in a sec -- you go ahead and change, Querida."

Davy blinked. "What?"

"Oh, that's just one of his little names for me." Kayla went into the bedroom to search for Peter's shirt. "Querida, Liebchen... he's full of them." Her smile grew. "And 'Amorita' seems to have the same effect as 'Honey'."

Davy blinked again. "Four languages?" he gasped.

Peter nodded. "So what's wrong with that? You speak English and Sign... Kayla speaks English and a smattering of Spanish... and Micky... well, I've forgotten what Micky speaks..."

Davy shook his head. "How in the world did you learn four?"

"I think Kay's got my clothes laid out," Peter said, moving toward the bedroom.

"Your outfit's on the bed," Kayla announced. She frowned at the look on his face. "What's the matter?"

"Davy. Again. *The least little difference and he won't let go*..." The last in Spanish.

"He's trying, Peter." Kayla hugged him quickly. "Get dressed, before we're late." Leaving him to change, she went back out to the living room. "Davy, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure, Kay, what's up?" he asked, packing Peter's banjo in its case.

"Please don't make a big deal out of Peter's speaking four languages," she said, too softly for Peter to hear. "He's very sensitive about it."

Davy's puzzled frown spoke volumes.

Kayla saw his confusion. "He used to get teased about it when he was a kid," she explained. "They thought he was a show-off. And you know what kids are like..."

"You mean... this isn't something from.. It? This he had Before?" Davy's jaw slammed open, but he kept his voice a whisper.

"He always knew them, deep down," Kayla confirmed. "But he'd suppressed them so long he'd nearly forgotten them out of disuse."

"So what changed?" Davy whispered.

"It's hard to explain, Davy." She sat down at the kitchen table, motioning for him to join her. When he did, she continued, "Peter told me that Before, he used to be able to sort of... shut his thoughts off. He was coasting, letting other people take charge. He can't do that now --- The Change stopped that. Now he's able to take charge, and he's more comfortable being a leader. But he's still a little sensitive about being so different."

"Different than he was Before," Davy nodded.

"I know it's hard to understand." Kayla looked at him, eyes silently asking for his help. "But he IS different. Just don't dwell on the differences so much -- he's still Peter, no matter what."

Davy dropped his eyes. "He just doesn't seem like Peter anymore, you know? It's hard."

"Try, Davy. For his sake, and mine."

"Ready, Amorita?" Peter announced loudly, startling them both. He stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his face expressionless.

With one last look at Davy, Kayla stood. "I'm ready."

"I'll...uhm...wait in the car..." Davy beat a hasty retreat.

When he heard the door close, Peter's eyes closed and his entire body seemed to sag. He shook his head slowly. "Why?" he whispered. "Why is it so damn hard for him and Micky?"

"They're not the ones living it." Kayla leaned against the wall next to him, shoulders touching. "We had to adjust. It's just taking them longer, is all."

Peter sighed. "You are the wisest person I've ever met, Michaela."

She reached out to clasp his hand. "I'm a pragmatist, remember? They'll come around. In the meantime, thought, you've got to try to be a little less sensitive, Peter. It's no use tearing yourself apart like this!"

"I will, Amorita... if you promise me you'll smile more."

"How do you know I'm not smiling?" she questioned.

"Amorita, I can hear it in your voice." He traced her cheek. "I see with my hands and ears. And I miss your smile."

"I promise." Kayla leaned into his warm palm. "Can you hear it now?" she teased.

"Every glorious inch of your smile," he confirmed, kissing her forehead.

And the staccato hornblast blew again.

Peter let out half a German curse before he bit it back. "Micky's getting impatient."

"I need to have a long talk with him about his timing!" Kayla crossed to the bandstand, reaching for his guitar. "Let's go before they come back for us."

The crowd at the March was definitely more appreciative than the first time they'd played. Kayla still got the wolf whistles, but they stopped quickly once she let her guitar do the talking for her.

Tonight, they got halfway through their set when Peter noticed something was off. "Kay," he whispered. "Are you all right? Your tempo's off."

Kayla leaned closer to him as tiny beads of cold sweat broke out on her forehead. "I don't know... I feel strange!"

Peter reached out to her -- and his blind eyes widened as he felt the water on her forehead. "Your voice sounds odd. You need to take five?"

"Please... just finish this set first, okay? I don't want to stop in the middle of it."

Peter listened to his wife, more to what she didn't say than what she said. "Guys" he announced. "One more song, then we're taking five."

Micky nodded from behind his drums. "You got it."

Kayla forced herself through the last song. The minute it ended, she unstrapped her guitar, handing it to Davy. "I'm going to go splash some cold water on my face." She made a beeline for the ladies room.

Peter whistled. "She doesn't sound too well," he breathed.

"Looked pretty white to me," Micky added. "Didn't waste any time getting to the ladies room, either."

Peter unslung his bass. "I'm going to see if she needs anything." He took two steps forward ---

And pitched off the stage, falling on his hands and knees.

Micky quickly scrambled to the edge of the stage. Careful to avoid Peter, who was sprawled on the floor below, he jumped off. "Peter, man, are you okay?"

"Seem to be..." Peter sat up, rubbing his aching hands and knees and swearing under his breath in all the languages he knew. "Where's Davy?"

Davy was across the room, chatting up a redhead at the bar. He hadn't even seen Peter's tumble.

"Where else?" Micky replied with a sigh. He helped Peter to his feet, dusting him down. "You took ten years off my life, Peter!"

"Didn't help mine either," Peter snarled. "Why didn't you tell me I was that close to the edge?"

Micky stopped, stunned. "I... I guess I wasn't thinking. I didn't realise..."

"Micky, in case it hasn't penetrated that dense skull of yours, I'm blind. I need your directions!" Peter pulled out of his grasp. "Kay is my Primary Guide, my set of eyes. When she's not around, you two have to take up the slack!"

Micky hung his head, shame in his voice. "I never thought about it that way. You seem to cope so well with just Kay. I didn't know you needed us, too."

"Well, I do." Peter's voice lost some of its anger. "Kay can't be with me 24 hours a day. When we're at the Pad, it's no problem. But when we're not -- I need another set of eyes. your eyes."

"I'll remember," Micky promised. "You can count on me, Peter."

"See if you can talk to Davy, okay?" Peter sighed. "I try, Kay tries... but we're so changed...he has the hardest time coping."

"I will." Micky took Peter's elbow with a firm grip. "Let's get back up on stage."

"No... lead me to the restrooms... I wanna be there when Kay comes out. Besides, you need to talk to the shrimp."

"Right." Micky left Peter by the entrance to the ladies room, and went in search of Davy.

Davy turned mid-word and smiled at Micky. "Hey, Mick! What's up? You look upset."

"We need to talk." Micky smiled at Davy's latest prospective conquest. "Could you excuse us, please?"

"See you later, Diana," Davy said. "Now," he said as they moved to a quiet corner, "what's so important that you gotta drag me away from the Glamour Queen?"

"Didn't you even see what happened?" Micky asked in amazement.

"Kayla needed a break, we gave her one." Davy shrugged. "No big deal."

"After that!" Micky rolled his eyes at Davy's blank look. "Peter fell off the freakin' stage! How could you miss that?"

"I..." Davy's jaw went slack. "I was... occupied..."

"So I see!" Micky shook his head. "Davy, we just left Peter there onstage --- when Kay left, we didn't even think of stepping in to help him. He fell off because we weren't watching out for him!"

Davy shook his head. "Help... but he gets on so well when we're home..."

"Because he knows his way around the Pad!" Micky gestured vaguely at the confines of the club. "When we're someplace like this, he's practically helpless unless someone guides him!"

"I didn't..." Davy ran both hands through his hair. "I didn't think...He really is... oh, shit..."

"Blind. I know." Micky took a deep breath. "But I never really knew until tonight what that means. For him... and for us."

"Neither did I... I mean, I knew he was... but I just never..." His eyes closed. "I'm not making any sense."

Micky nodded, satisfied that he'd gotten his point across. "I know exactly what you're trying to say."

Peter's head snapped up and he pushed off the wall as he heard the bathroom door open. "Kayla?"

Kayla felt the tenseness in him as she took his hand. "It's me."

"How... I mean... Are you feeling better?"

"Umm..." Came the non-committal reply. She slowly led him back toward the others, who had returned to the stage to get ready for the second set. "Water did the trick." She frowned as she spied the smudges of dirt on his charcoal slacks, and felt the scrapes on his palms. Turning one over to examine it, her eyes widened as she saw the reddened skin. "Peter, what happened to you?"

"Nothing that a pair of alert eyes could have prevented, right, Mick?" Peter said, a definite note of warning in his voice.

"Right, Pete," Micky agreed, catching the warning tone. "Nothing to worry about, Kayla. Peter just -- tripped is all. No real damage done."

Kayla had caught the unspoken message, too, but since Peter seemed to be all right, she decided to let it drop for the moment. "Are we ready to go back on?"

"We're ready," the three men chorused.

The rest of the set was strained. They accepted their money and piled into the car, heading back to the Pad to drop the Torks off before Micky and Davy headed back to the motel.

"You want to tell me what happened tonight?" Kayla asked as she pulled off her still uncomfortable heels.

"I fell off the stage," Peter said as he lay his bass and banjo back on the bandstand.

"You what?"

"You heard me." He turned toward the sound of her voice, jamming aching hands into the pockets of his charcoal pants. "I fell off the stage."

"How?" Kayla went to his side, gently pulling until he allowed her to look at his hands again. "Weren't Davy and Micky there?"

"Davy went to investigate a conquest. Micky just wasn't paying attention." Peter winced. "That stings, Amorita."

"Sorry." She led him into the bathroom, and began to bathe the grazes with arm, soapy water. "How could they let you fall off the stage? Don't they realise you need help in unfamiliar places?"

"No." There was a world of pain in that one word.

"Wait 'til I get my hands on them..." Kayla pulled a clean towel from the shelf and gently blotted his hands dry. "Well, they don't look too bad."

"Kay...they just forgot." Peter's voice was a tired whisper. "Leave it for now, please. They feel bad enough as it is."

"You're just about out on your feet, aren't you?" She turned him in the direction of the bedroom and gave him a gentle push. "I'll leave it for now. But they are going to hear from me!"

Peter turned to face her again. "Don't be long... I need to rest."

"Five minutes," she promised. "No more."

Her husband smiled and walked to the bedroom, a hand trailing along the wall while the other one reached to make sure he didn't hit the tornado staircase again.

Peter was nearly asleep by the time she made it to the bedroom a scant four minutes later. "Hey," she teased. "You going to sleep without me?"

He snorted softly. "Not hardly. This is as far as I can get." Automatically, he reached for her.

"I wonder if it's always going to be this way," Kayla pondered aloud. "Are we ever going to be able to spend a night apart?"

"Do you want to?" he asked.

"I didn't say that. But what married couple doesn't wind up having to spend at least some time apart, for whatever reason?"

He sighed. "That bridge is one we'll have to cross when we come to it. For now..." he spread the covers apart. "Come on in."

She scooted under the covers and into his arms, feeling the immediate relaxation in him that she'd come to expect. Tonight, it seemed stronger than usual. Peter would be asleep in just a couple of minutes.

And indeed... he was. One arm around her waist, his cheek resting just above her head...their bodies spooned together perfectly.

For once, however, Kayla didn't fall asleep as easily. Tonight's events -- the ones Peter didn't know about, were preying on her mind.

Three more weeks passed. There was not another scene as happened at the March. When Kayla had to excuse herself -- which happened several more times -- Davy or Micky took over and kept Peter safe.

The pair had also moved back into the Pad after another week.

Kayla entered the Pad after one of those inevitable absences. Looking around the room, she breathed a sigh of relief as she saw no one. She could hear Micky and Davy talking upstairs in her room, and the strains of Peter's guitar playing wafted in from the balcony, telling her where he was. Shrugging off her jacket, she draped it over the back of the chaise, sinking down on the comfortably worn black leather and letting her head drop into her hands.

This can NOT be happening! she moaned silently. We've only been married a few weeks, we live in a run-down beach-house, we're practically broke... With a groan, she flopped backwards on the chaise, covering her face with her hands again.

Peter's voice broke into her reverie. "I thought that was you I heard come in," he said with a smile as he deposited his guitar on the bandstand and moved toward the lounge. "So where were you?"

"At the doctor's." Kayla shuddered at the memory. Three little words that symbolized what was possibly the most horribly embarrassing event she'd ever imagined.

"At the..." Peter sank onto the lounge and reached for her. "Honey, are you all right?"

"I'm perfectly healthy," she assured him.

Peter frowned. "Then why'd you go to the doctor?"

"Remember the night at the March when you fell off the stage?" He nodded and she continued. "I was feeling queasy, lightheaded. I just figured it was nerves, or something I ate, but when it didn't go away, I went down to the clinic."

"And...?" Peter prompted, worry etched on his features.

"And... I found out it wasn't something I ate, it wasn't nerves, and I'm not sick."

Peter frowned, mentally tacking off options. Then his head jerked up, his dead eyes huge. "Mi... Michaela...?" he gasped.

"The light dawns," she said wryly. "Yes, Peter. I am."

His breathing became ragged, but the smile on his face was like a ray of sunshine. "We're gonna be..."

"Gonna be what?" Micky pounded down the stairs. "Hey, Kayla -- where you been?"

Davy was behind him. "Yeah.. .and why is Peter lookin' like he's been pole-axed?"

Peter grabbed Kayla and kissed her -- hard -- right then and there. His joy and excitement were infectious.

Kayla laughed at their twin looks of consternation. "How do you two feel about being called 'Uncle'?"

Micky's face lit up. Grabbing Kayla up in a bear hug, he swung her around and around. "We're gonna have a baby!"

Davy let out a war whoop and thumped Peter on the back. "Congratulations, Peter! You're gonna be a father!"

Peter keeled back on the lounge and laughed. "Pregnant!" he gasped. Then he sat up. "Well... I guess that answers the question of whether or not you're female all the way through!"

Kayla grasped Micky's forearms. "Put me down, Fuzzy!" she ordered. Micky gently sat her back on her feet.

Straightening her clothing, she turned to Peter. "Female all the way through! I have just been through the most embarrassing experience of my life, and you're speculating on the state of my inner works!"

Peter sat up and reached for her, taking her hands and pulling her down beside him. "I'm sorry, Honey...but I'm just so happy right now!"

Kayla leaned against him, letting her head rest on his shoulder. "I'm just grousing. I'm pretty happy about it myself."

Peter kissed her lightly, then whispered in her ear, "Te amo, Querida."

"I love you," she returned. Looking at Micky and Davy, she had to smile. They were already arguing over who would baby-sit!

Peter and Kayla remained on the chaise, listening and watching in amusement as their friends laid out their future child's life, from kindergarten up to picking the perfect college.

"Think we can handle this?" Kayla asked Peter quietly.

"I dunno..." Peter whispered. "With those two as uncles... Why do I have a feeling it'll be more like raising three kids?"

"Because you're a very astute and wise man," Kayla countered. She sighed and leaned back against her husband, smiling as his arms tightened around her. "It may not be easy, but it's sure going to be an adventure!"

"That's for sure!" he said, kissing the top of her head and grinning as the two 'uncles' degenerated into an argument over the future college the unborn child should attend.

"An adventure may be putting it mildly, Amorita."

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