The next day Nicole was released from the hospital. There was still no sign of either the baby or Peter. She went home, but found herself too depressed to stay in her own house. She packed her clothes, grabbed Thomas, and headed next door to the Pad.
Micky answered the door, and she stepped in. "I hope you don't mind," she told him. "I want to stay here for a few weeks." Micky just stood there for a few minutes. "Micky?" she asked.
"Huh?" he asked, suddenly snapping out of it. "Oh, no, I don't mind. What's wrong?"
"Oh, nothin', it's just that everywhere I look I see memories over there and I'm gettin' awfully depressed," she explained. "So I hope you don't mind if we stay over here for a little while."
Micky didn't mind, nor did the others, and they helped her move her things into Davy's now vacated bedroom. When she was settled, she sat on the bed and thought. Micky just stood there, watching her.
"Micky, ain't you got somethin' to do?" she asked. When he shook his head, she replied: "Well, go find somethin'," and ushered him out of the room.
(the next day)
Nicole's depression was worsening. There was no sign of either Peter or the baby, and she was becoming not only depressed, but also mad. She'd thought that Peter was different; not like the others. Not like the jerk who'd gotten her pregnant in high school. But if Peter was like them, that meant that there were no decent guys in the world. And that made her depressed and angry. She was mad at men.
Of course, Micky didn't help very much, considering he followed her around everywhere. He was trying to help her, and trying hard. He cooked all three meals, did the dishes, and the laundry, and shoved Mike away from any attempts to help. Mike was concerned, but he didn't know what to do about it.
He tried to comfort his grieving sister, but she was too upset to listen. He tried to reason with her, and tell her that perhaps Davy had been right, and it wasn't Peter. But she was too depressed to want to hear it, and ran into the bedroom, slamming the door. Mike just sighed and left her alone.
Micky had heard, however. He got up and went to the door of Davy's room and tapped lightly.
"Go away," he heard from inside. The voice was muffled and accompanied with sobs.
But Micky didn't go away. Instead, he pushed the door open, silently, and headed into the room.
Nicole was lying on the bed, sobbing into a pillow. Micky sat down on the bed without a sound. She stopped and looked up at him through tear-soaked eyes.
Micky smiled a sad, welcoming smile, and without a second thought Nicole turned and buried herself in his arms. Then she cried until there were no more tears.
When she'd cried herself out, she turned and looked up at Micky. "Thanks Micky," she said, wiping her eyes and smiling sadly. Micky smiled back sadly. "You know how it feels, don't you?" Nicole asked, remembering Maggie. "To think you're loved but then find out you're not?"
Micky nodded but said nothing. "I don't think I'll ever trust anyone again," Nicole mumbled, turning away. Micky chuckled.
"Even me and Mike?" he asked with some surprise.
She shook her head. "Maybe Mike, but not you. Not after last time."
"What, you didn't like it?" he joked, smiling.
Nicole smiled back. "Of course I like it," she replied with a mischevious grin. "It's just it was kind of sneaky.
"I remember," Micky said. "I sat down behind you and toched your hair. "
He reached out and touched the silky tendrils of her straight, dark hair, smiling slightly as he remembered.
"It was a thrill to touch your hair. I was afraid you would notice," he said, his voice hesitating as he pulled his hand away. "But you didn't."
He went back to lightly stroking her hair. "Then, something interesting happened," Micky remembered. "I wanted more. More of you. Behind that hair was your neck."
He pulled her hair back off of her neck, revealing the soft, vulnerable skin behind her neck. "I was afraid you would know, but I didn't care." So-," he paused and kissed her neck lightly.
Tiny little kisses ran down her neck, and Nicole smiled at the sensations they brought on. But Micky wasn't done. "I still wanted more," he continued. He turned her around with a whisk of the arms, and she found herself lying on the bed, looking up at him.
Micky saw the light in her eyes, the excitement. He grinned, shook his head to ward off the headache, and ripped off his shirt.
"Augh, my head," Micky moaned. He grabbed his head and threw himself down onto the bed, burying himself in the pillow as if that would shut out the incredible pain.
"What is it?" Nicole asked, leaning down to look at him.
"D-D=Davy," Micky managed to gasp. "It's Davy."
That was all she needed to hear. Nicole jumped up and threw her clothes back on.
"Just hang on Mick, I'll fix this," she told him, and stormed out of the room, and out of the Pad.
Quickly, Nicole snagged the car keys and got into the car. She began to drive down the highway. Towards the hospital.
She was lucky. Visiting hours were almost over. She stormed into the hospital and demanded that they let her see Davy.
Davy wasn't expecting her, to say the least. He was sitting on the bed in the same position that she'd first seen him in, with a blanket over his head. She stormed into his room and yanked the blanket off of his head. He was sitting there, staring out into space.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded of him.
He snapped out of his trance and looked up at her, his eyes blazing in anger. "Trying to keep you from making the biggest mistake of your life," he replied, spitting the words out with a vehemence that showed in his eyes.
"Davy, he's gone. Believe that. Gone. Never coming back. And furthermore I don't care if he does," she spat out with equal anger.
"No. I won't believe that," Davy said with conviction. "That...thing that left you wasn't Petah, and Petah is still out there. E'll come back. You've just got to believe in him."
"And you have to stay out of my life," she replied angrily. "Peter's not coming back and even if he did I wouldn't care. You're insane ramblings are no reason to hurt Micky. So just....stay out."
Davy was taken aback by her words. He knew he wasn't insane, but why was it so hard to convince everyone else of that? He sighed, knowing that he wouldn't get anywhere with her and looked at the floor.
"Fine. That's why I'm here. So you can all forget about me. So go ahead. Forget about me," he said, wondering what he had done to deserve such a horrible life.
She realized what her words had meant to him and sat down next to him. "Oh, Davy, I didn't mean that," she said. "I just meant....oh, geez, I wish there was a way that we could find out if you were tellin' the truth or not."
Since there wasn't, she decided to go back home. Micky was sitting on the bed in the position she'd left him in. He was no longer holding his head, and now he felt a lot better.
"Feel better?" Nicole asked upon entering. Micky nodded.
"What happened?" he asked.
"You were right. It was Davy. He said he didn't want you to get involved with me because he still thinks Peter's coming back." She spat out Peter's name with a vengeance matched only by the anger shown on her face.
Micky nodded and smiled. He wasn't done yet and he wanted to continue where he'd left off. He waited until she sat down on the bed.
"Now then," he said, smiling. "Where were we?"
"I think," she began, relaxing visibly. "That you were telling me about last time." He nodded.
"Yeah, I finished. You tell me now," he said, smiling. "I want to know what you thought about it."
She smiled contentedly. "It was great," she said. "Much better than with Peter," she added, finally able to get out the word without any vengeance.
Micky smiled and reached out. He touched her cheek lightly with his hand and stroked it gently. "Really?" he asked, in awe.
She blinked. "No."
Micky removed his hand and stared at her. "What?" he asked, visibly shocked.
She blinked again, and smiled, shaking her head. "I was just kidding," she said, smiling.
Relaxing, Micky reached out and pushed a few strands of hair from her face. His hand touched her face slightly as he pushed the strands behind her ear.
"Wait, no, honestly," she said. "You're nothing compared to Peter."
Micky took his hand off her face and stared. "Huh?" he asked.
She looked at him. "Micky, I...felt something there...," she said. She took his hand and placed it on her face. She felt a slight shiver go down her spine. "Ask me a question," she instructed. "No, wait," she said. She let go of his hand and put it on the bed. "Now ask," she said.
"Um, ok," Micky said, visibly confused. "Um, do you still love Peter?" he asked.
"Heck no," she said. Her mouth curved into a frown, the kind that looked cute on her, and unable to resist, Micky reached up and touched her face.
Nicole felt the strange tingling in her spine, and sighed. "Yes," she corrected herself. Micky started to take his hand off her face, but she took it and held it there. "I do. I miss him and I wish he'd never left."
Micky looked confused. "I don't understand."
Nicole took his hand off of her face and looked at it. "Micky, I think...." she began. She took his hand and put it on his face.
"Lie to me. Tell me your name," she said.
Micky felt a strange tingle go down his spine. 'Joe Smith,' he thought to himself, and started to say them, but despite his will, his lips formed his own name and he spoke it.
"What the...?" he began. "What's going on?" he asked, his hand still on his face. Then, he felt the tingle in his spine again and found himself answering his own question.
"I have a power to make people tell the truth," he said, slowly, not believing it himself.
Nicole looked at him and he looked at her and both thought one thing, "Wow."
After using Micky's ability to ask a few embarrassing questions that she longed to know the answers to, Nicole came up with a brilliant idea.
"Micky...Davy!" she said, suddenly.
"Huh?" he asked, confused.
"Davy! We can use this to..to find out whether or not he's telling the truth," she said, excitedly.
He thought for a second. "Yeah, we can," he said, smiling.
Since the visiting hours for that day were over, they had to wait until the next day to try out their experiment.
