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The Meeting

Guest Skykat

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Hmm, I didn't know what to call this because I've been calling it 'That Kit story' so I've just gone with something boring, if anyone has any better title ideas I'd like to hear them. At the moment it's a one shot but it will be potentially a series of one shots, I have the ideas, I just need to get round to writing them.

I'd appreciate any comments and reviews, even criticisms.

Thanks emmasi and jackandmartha!!! for their help with this.



Clunk. Clunk.

The sign flapped carelessly in the wind and like a clock, on every second beat it sounded as it hit the stone wall of the building.

The sounds of laughter radiated from within the door, the warmth could be felt from across the street.

The smell penetrated her nostrils; that heady mix of Beer, of vodka, of alcohol. It made its way through every sense in her body.

She could hear the clunk of ice in the glass, could taste the strength in her mouth, feel the heat as it trickled down her chest, the kick as it reached her stomach.

It was within touching distance, just across the street. All she had to do was cross over and she’d be there, inside the warmth, feeling that kick.

“Why do you drink Kit?”

“Because it makes me happy.”

“And can you not be happy without the drink?”

Her Counsellor’s question had been left unanswered, the subject had been dropped as swiftly as Kit had changed the topic. Changing the subject was only a short-term solution though. It didn’t stop the memories from returning, the questions from digging away at her mind. It didn’t stop her from asking herself…and at this moment in time Kit was pretty sure she knew the answer.

She hesitated momentarily as guilt flooded through her body like blood from an open wound. She had only been out of the counselling session for two minutes, she hadn’t even got further than outside the building and she was already giving into temptation.

But then if they did build a counselling office right across from a pub…

“You don’t understand, I need those pills!” The conversation taking place behind her registered only momentarily in Kit’s brain. It was secondary, unimportant. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Except the alcohol.

“Well if you can’t get them for me I’ll just have to find someone else won’t I? Don’t you get it? I’m desperate!” But that desperation in the other speaker’s voice, Kit could appreciate that. She understood it because she felt it too. She felt her head nod in sympathy with the anonymous speaker, she would raise a glass to him later, once she had that drink in her hand.

Nothing else mattered.

She didn’t remember making a conscious decision to step onto the street, it was as if her feet moved all by themselves. But then they knew their destination. They always had because her mind was fixed on it. When the two strong hands wrenched her back onto the pavement she felt only anger and bewilderment at the person stopping between her and her goal.

Seconds later the car raced past and Kit realised the enormity of what had just happened. She had not seen the car coming, she hadn’t even checked the road for it. She had been so blinded by her need for a drink and it had almost killed her. She nearly laughed at the irony of it.

“Are you crazy! You would have been killed!” The voice was the same as the one on the phone but only now, her head no longer focused solely on the alcohol, did she register the familiarity of it. She turned to face Peter Baker and saw the same shock she imagined on her face, mirrored on his and she found small filters of his conversation flashing into her brain.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, furious, “and why are you so desperate for pills?”

“What?” His shock was quickly masked by anger as he threw a question straight back at her. “Why did you just try to kill yourself?”

“I didn’t just try and kill myself. You’re an addict aren’t you?” She threw accusingly.

“That’s rich coming from you.”

“I’ll have you know I’m getting help,” Kit shot back.

“You obviously need it.”

“And you don’t?”

“I didn’t say that did I? And anyway, I’m getting help too.” He motioned to the counselling building behind him, “just been.”

“And that’s why you’re so desperate for pills?”

“I’m not desperate.”

“So why are you shaking? Why are you sweating?”

“You were heading the pub weren’t you?”

“Maybe.” Kit shrugged.

“Why? I thought you’ve been clean for ages?”

Kit shrugged again. “I guess there’s something about bearing your soul that makes you want to return to drink,” she remarked dryly. “I just had my appointment too.”

“Then you know why I needed the pills.”

“And do you still need them?” Kit asked.

Peter shrugged. “Do you still need to go the pub?”

“I don’t if you don’t,” Kit could not help herself laying down the challenge.

“I guess not then. Will you be here the same time next week?”

“Same time every week. You?”


“Well I guess I’ll see you around then.”

“I guess so.” Putting his phone back in his pocket Peter walked away from her and Kit watched his retreating back, her head reeling. Of all the people to meet…Not that she had anything particularly against Peter Baker, she just didn’t really have anything to do with him at all.

But he had just saved her life, in more then one sense of the word and she guessed technically, she had saved him too.

Turning on her heel she began to walk, in the opposite direction to Peter.

And in the opposite direction to the pub.

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