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Father of the Year; Kirk is going to get even with Lars. Het.
Topic Started: July 3, 2007, 9:40 pm (14,635 Views)
Shayi
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Bring me that horizon
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Aww bless little Kirk Lee getting the Chelton army together! He is such an absolute sweetheart! That section in the whorehouse with the 'Penis and Princess' made me laugh so much! Fabulous, absolutely fabulous :)

I'm glad that Kirk has Mr Chelton to take him in hand and calm him down, and now Mrs Chelton to sort them all out!

I feel so sorry for Cliff going out of his mind with worry like that. But for once, for once Lars is being useful... yeah I'm still in charity with him (temporarily) even if he is being a highhanded sod about it all.

(And good for Randy the barman!)

.... And whatever are you doing out at this time of night? Wait a minute, don’t tell me. You’re a rock star. God only knows.”....

Oh man oh man that was fantastic - I laughed so much, mainly because I'm sure that it's so true!

I love this story (and now I've had two updates to read in a day so I'm very happy!).... so I am very much lookin' forward to more!
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Shayi- Your review made my day. I'm alone for next 2 days so a happy, nice, spritely review was awesome for me. I also have lots of quiet time to write. :)

Who knows. Maybe I'll write more. I might be pulling an all nighter tonight because I have to be up by 4 AM and I have to be halfway lucid. I'm used to crashing around 2 so that would put me at 2 hours of sleep. I might do better if I just get whacked out on coffee and stay up. So I might be updating again tonight.


anyways... back to the madness :dance


Chapter 37- The Doctor's Orders

“Who on earth could that be at this ungodly hour?” Emily gasped as she glanced at her bedside clock. She stuffed her head back under her pillow, but the knocking just got louder and louder.

“Miss Emily! Miss Emily! Open up!” a voice cried.

“I’m trying get some fucking sleep!” Emily moaned as she sat up. She was a fucking seamstress for Christ’s sake! Who on earth could need her at three-thirty in the morning? The knocking just wouldn’t go away. “Oh killjoy!” she exclaimed as she slithered out of the bed, and put on her robe and slippers.

Emily made her way down the hall, and to the front door. She peered out the window. Kirk Hammett and his crown of black, springy, curls stood upon her doorstep. He was shivering in the cold.

“What the fuck does he want?” Emily groaned. “I don’t want to see anyone from Metallica ever again.”

She ducked down away from the window, like she did whenever the Mormons would come knocking on her door. Maybe Kirk would eventually go away.

“Come on Emily,” Kirk called. “I saw you. I know you’re in there.”

Emily’s heart sank. With a heavy sigh, she opened the door.

“Kirk!” she exclaimed flatly, and without inspiration. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“You must come quick Emily!” Kirk said. “Come on!”

“Look Kirk, I’m through with you Metallica guys,” said Emily. “You’re all a bunch of sick, fucked up, infinitesimal, weirdoes!”

“It’s Cecily,” Kirk explained. “She’s really sick. She has the fever, and she’s on her deathbed. She’s been asking for you. You must come quick! She’s in our hotel room.”

“Is this some sick joke to get me into the sack with Cliff?” Emily demanded. “Because if it is, it’s not funny. It’s lame.”

“No Emily,” Kirk whispered. Emily looked into his eyes. Snowflakes had frozen themselves to the tips of Kirk’s long, dark, lashes like angel kisses. He had obviously been outside in the cold for a long time. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. “She doesn’t have much longer,” he whined. There was a desperate note that hung in Kirk’s voice. Emily’s heart thudded. Cecily was really in grave danger! She didn’t need to ask anymore questions.


“I’ll be right there,” she said. She didn’t even bother to change out of her pink flannel pajamas that were decorated with little blue kittens and purple puppy dogs. She slid on her boots, threw on her coat and hat, and followed Kirk and the Chelton’s out the door.

***

“Lars,” Cliff said as he finished his cigarette. “I have a confession to make.”

“You’re still keeping good tidings with Mustaine?” Lars guessed. “I know that you two went sledding together.”

Cliff frowned.

“Well yeah,” he admitted. “But that’s not what I was going to say.” With a sigh, Cliff stood up and went over to the desk. He fished around for a few minutes, and then came back with a piece of hotel stationary that had Cliff’s messy scrawl handwriting all over it.

“This is a rough draft of the letter that Mr. Gurken sent you,” he explained as he handed it to Lars.

“But this is your handwriting Cliff,” said Lars. “I don’t think Mr. Gurken writes rough drafts anyway.”

“Lars,” Cliff said nervously. “I wrote that letter.”

“Since when do you work for Mr. Gurken?” Lars asked. “Cliff, what the fock are you trying to tell me?”

“CECILY ISN’T YOUR FUCKING DAUGHTER!” Cliff bellowed, waking up half of the guests in the hotel. “We were fucking with you! We made it all up! Cecily is just some random girl off the street, who happened to have brown hair. We just knew that you had banged her mom five years ago! So did half the population of Copenhagen!”

Lars was stunned. He sat down on the slightly busted chair.

“Fock,” he muttered. He looked over at the dying little girl who was lying in Kirk’s bed. She wasn’t his daughter. She had no meaning to him at all. She was someone else’s kid. “But what about all of those child support checks that I sent?” he asked.

“James had a field day with those,” Cliff answered. “He’s sure going to miss them.”

“James was a part of this too?” Lars asked.

“We all were,” said Cliff. “You were being a dick to Kirk.”

“I would have expected something this low and deceitful coming from you and Kirk, but never from James,” Lars retorted. He sounded very, very hurt. “My father just spent hundreds of dollars on a paternity test,” he went on. “A paternity test for no focking reason!”

“I’m sorry Lars,” said Cliff. “It wasn’t supposed to go this far, honestly. We were going to come clean right away, and then we decided to do it at the gala, and then that got all fucked up. And who knows? Cecily could still be your daughter.”

“Just shut the fuck up Burton!” snapped Lars. “You sicken me! You’re out of the band. First thing tomorrow, you’re on a boat steerage, back to San Francisco.”

Cliff gulped.

“Don’t put me in steerage Lars,” he begged. “They have rats down there. Plus, you need me. You need me to finish the album.”

“We can find a bassist off of the street to finish the album with,” Lars sneered. “You’ve made a mockery out of the whole Ulrich family! Why, I almost told my own mother about Cecily. My mother would have thought that she had a little granddaughter, and then you snatch her away from her! I think that I’m being nice by even helping you get back to the U.S. I should just turn you out on the streets.”

Cliff bit his lip uncomfortably. Shit. He was now technically unemployed. What was he going to do? They had done it to Mustaine, and now they had done it to him.
Lars coldly looked at Cliff.

“Pack your shit and get out of here!” he said. “You’re no longer in this band therefore the record label is no longer putting you up here. This is no longer your room.”

“Please let me stay the night,” Cliff begged. “Let me stay for Cecily. She needs me.”

“She’s too sick to need anyone,” snapped Lars. “You are to pack and leave.” Lars went over to the closet and pulled out Cliff’s suitcase. “Now get packing!” he demanded.

“Lars, I have nowhere to go,” Cliff moaned. Both were silent. A lone siren blared from somewhere in the background.

Just then, there was knock on the door.

“Doctor Meade here!” a voice yelled from behind it.

“Focking finally,” Lars quipped, as he stalked over to answer it.

“You must be Cecily’s father,” Doctor Meade greeted cheerfully. “It’s an honor to meet the son of Torben Ulrich.”

“I’m not Cecily’s father,” snapped Lars. “Just get the fock in here, and keep the brat from dying. I don’t want to have to deal with disposing a dead corpse out of here.”

Doctor Meade looked a little surprised. “Uh, okay,” he mumbled as he shuffled into the hotel room. He looked over at Cliff. “Are you Cecily’s father?” he asked.

“Yes, I am,” Cliff mumbled.

“You shouldn’t have let your daughter get this sick before you called me,” the doctor scolded. Cliff rolled his eyes at Lars.

“Just shut the fock up and get to work!” demanded Lars.

Dr. Meade made his way over to Cecily’s bed. He stuck a thermometer in her mouth. “I’m going to put her on IV fluids,” he announced. “Her kidneys are shutting down from the fever. She needs to have them flushed out. I’m also going to give her medicine through it as well.” He took the thermometer out of her mouth and frowned. “Her temperature is over forty degrees Celsius,” he muttered.

“Oh God,” Cliff moaned. Lars turned and glared at him

“I told you to get your focking ass packing!” he barked.

Cliff watched as Dr. Meade took an IV needle and tried to stick it in Cecily’s arm. He was having a difficult time since her veins were so small. He kept sticking it in different places along her arm and wrist.

“Cut it out!” Cliff yelped. “You’re hurting her!”

“Don’t fucking tell me how to do my job!” Dr. Meade exclaimed. “Do I tell you how to play your bass solos?”

“No,” Cliff answered.

“My point exactly,” muttered the Doctor. “I’m not hurting her. I’m helping her.”

“Cliff, just go get your shit packed,” Lars chanted.

Miserably, Cliff trudged over to the heaps of clothes that were scattered about the hotel room floor. He began to fish out his shirts, socks, and undergarments, and pathetically and sadly, placed them in his suitcase. A single tear trickled from his eye.

He opened up the bureau drawer, and retrieved his diary, a book of music manuscript paper, a box of crayons, a Ziploc bag of weed, his camera, some film, roach clips, a water bong, a few extra issues of The Metallinews, various books, rolling papers, a box of Danish caramel turtles, his coloring book, a couple of syringes, three Danish pecan logs, and a story about a lost puppy that he and Kirk had typed out one night on the typewriter, and carefully placed them in his suitcase.

“What the hell is his problem?” Dr. Meade asked as he glanced at the distraught bassist.

“He’s been fired,” Lars spat.

“Could I at least do laundry before I leave?” Cliff asked.

“No,” shot Lars.

“But they don’t have washing machines in steerage,” Cliff wailed.

“That’s not my problem now is it?” returned Lars.

Cliff whimpered, and started collecting his various bass and amp cables from around the room. Just then, Kirk barged in the room toting an army of Mr. and Mrs. Gurken, and Miss Emily.

“What the fock is this?” Lars demanded in disgust at the parade that had trooped into the room. “This focking ain’t King’s Cross Station here! Get the fock out!”

“It’s my room Lars,” Kirk replied. “We’ve brought medicine and chicken noodle soup for Cecily.”

“Well I’ve brought her a doctor,” retorted Lars. “Even though she’s no longer my responsibility.”

“You got the paternity test results back already?” Kirk asked.

“No, but I know all that I need to know,” Lars shrugged.

“How is she Doctor?” asked Emily. “May I sit next to her?”

“Of course you can,” nodded Dr. Meade as he smiled at Emily. “Cecily is a very, very, sick little girl. Her potassium and electrolyte levels are through the roof because her kidneys aren’t working properly. We’re trying to get them flushed out.”

“Hey there Cecily,” Emily said as she sat down next to the little girl. “It’s Me, Emily. Don’t you remember? You were going to meet me at the milliner’s shop this weekend, and help me decorate straw hats.” Emily bent over to give the sleeping girl a kiss on her forehead. Cecily stirred, but only a little, before falling back into a restless sleep.

“These next few hours will be very crucial,” said Doctor Meade. “If her fever breaks within the next eight hours, I’d say that she has a very good chance of making it. But if it doesn’t-”

“Don’t even say it,” muttered Emily as she began to gently rub Cecily’s hand.

No one seemed to notice as Cliff grabbed his last amp cable and stuffed it into his overstuffed duffel bag. He was just about packed. He grabbed his coat, scarf, and gloves.

“You must keep her cool and well hydrated,” said the Doctor. “She needs more icepacks.”

“I’ll go down to the ice machine,” Mr. Chelton volunteered. He grabbed the ice bucket, and took out the three Heineken’s that had been lounging around in the melted ice water.

“She’s also going to need her IV drips changed every half hour,” said Dr. Meade. “But it has to be someone who she trusts. If she starts to regain consciousness she’ll more than likely be freaked out over the needles. We have to keep her calm, so whoever is going to be changing her IV bags, has to be able to do that. I suggest that one person inserts the needle, while the other talks to her, and tries to keep her preoccupied.”

“I’m not doing anything with needles,” said Kirk. “Needles cause me to faint.”

“Even farting causes you to faint,” snapped Lars.

“I sew. I’m used to needles,” piped up Emily as she gently petted Cecily’s long, wavy, hair. “I’ve never inserted an IV, but I can do counted cross stitch.”

“Really?” Kirk asked, perking up. “Me too! I adore counted cross stitch! I’m currently working on a set of cross stitched Christmas ornaments for my Mom.”

“I’m working on a scene of an amusement park with a carousel for my grandmother,” said Emily.

“Guys,” said Dr. Meade. “I hate to break up the little tea party here, but I’m a very busy man tonight. Chop chop. Who’s going to keep Cecily calm as Emily gives her the IV?”

Cliff was creeping across the room with his suitcase, bass, and duffel bag, ready to make his final exit.

“Cliff can do it!” Kirk pointed out. “Hey, where you going Cliff? You’re the only one that can keep her calm. You have to tell her a Misfits story.”

Cliff looked down at the floor.

“Cliff,” Kirk whined. “Cecily needs you.”

“Cliff’s no longer a part of Metallica,” Lars announced. “We’ll be auditioning new bassists starting tomorrow. I’ve had quite enough of his bullshit.”

“Is it true that he’s the only one who can keep her calm?” Doctor Meade asked.

“Oh yes,” nodded Kirk. “Cecily adores Cliff. She even wrote her Father of the Year essay on him, and she we won, with my help of course. I do write good essays, if I do say so myself.”

Well in that case, he has to at least stick around for the night,” said Doctor Meade. “It’s very important that Cecily stays calm. Anxiety will only raise her fever. Cliff stays for the night. Doctor’s orders.”

Lars frowned as Cliff set down his luggage, and took a seat over by Emily.

Emily frowned at him.

“Nice pajamas,” Cliff observed. “Pink flannel with kittens and puppies. I'm digging it. Sexy."

"Shut up Cliff," sneered Emily.

“Are you two even going to be able to work together?” Dr. Meade asked. “It’s important that you two get along.”

“If we have to,” Emily groaned, not sounding too encourging.

“Cecily has a long night ahead of her,” said Dr. Meade.

“Trust me,” Emily said as she rolled her eyes at Cliff as he lit a cigarette. “She’s not the only one…”
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MissMetallica;;
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Poor Twisted Me
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wow double update! :nanner:

kirk, what can i say. he is such a little darling, the way he went out there in the blistering cold to find help for cecily, its just beautiful. you write his character so well ashley.

and lars, that asshole lars is coming out again. i swear to god hes skitzophrenic (god dammit i dont know how to spell :lol:) LARS YOU CAN'T FIRE CLIFF!! \

and i hope emily can forgive cliff :( they would be such a cute couple.

this is fanstastic writing! eagerly anticipating more!
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Shayi
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*G* Lovin' the multiple updates! I hope you managed to get through for the 4am stuff you're doing.... and aren't bouncing off too many walls with coffee ;)


Right then.... down to the fic. I'm back to wanting to slap Lars upside the head. Preferably with something quite hard and heavy. He deserves it. Idiot. For starters, how can he be so damned insensitive. For another thing - he can't fire Cliff! Bloody idiot!

I feel so sorry for Cliff right now - not only is he losing Cecily, he's lost Emily and now the band as well. And he's facing steerage and rats. Could things get much worse for the poor guy?

Kirk, Kirk, Kirk. What can I say? He's still cute as a button. This line was so excellent - 'Snowflakes had frozen themselves to the tips of Kirk’s long, dark, lashes like angel kisses.' It just seems so, Kirk. And I love Emily and the pyjamas :) That was cool as hell.

It's great how your writing style changes slightly as you write different characters. When you've got Mr Chelton/Kirk it's quite a gentle tone, even when things are frantic. With Lars/Cliff/James the tone is more agitated, more energetic.

Yeah I love this story so so much! Lookin' forward to your next update again!
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Raedoll
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Lars is a DICK. I hate him, I HateimIhateimihateimihateim!. Leave Cliff alone, he does the right thing and gets fucked over. Like my dad *grumble*. Don't let Cecily die, Emily needs her, Cliff needs her. What if Lars really DOES turn out to be the father? What the hell's he going to do then?! ARGH. I can't believe it. pleeeaaaaaase write more soon? It's so good, even though Lars is a butt. :(
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Sorry I didn't get to update through the night. I didn't pull an all nighter, which turned out to be a good thing, and getting up at 4 AM wasn't as brutal as I thought it would be. The blissful thing was I got to go right back to sleep at 5 and slept forever. :)

My dog was no help writing this. She's sitting next to me on the couch and kept batting at my hand, so if it's a sucky chapter it's her fault. I think it's kind of a cuddly chapter because I can't resist lavishing attention on the mutt. :)



Chapter 38- When Great Minds Think Alike


All throughout the long, tedious night Cliff and Emily worked devotedly to save little Cecily. For the first few IV changes Cecily was still unconscious. Still, Cliff held her tiny, little, hand, and stroked her hair, as Emily tried her very best to make sticking needles in Cecily’s veins as painless as possible.

Meanwhile, Lars had dozed off in the other bed, Kirk had ordered up some room service, Mrs. Chelton had lit a prayer candle for Cecily and was reading aloud from the Bible. Mr. Chelton was trying to get a hold of James and Claudia who seemed to be conveniently not around.

“I can’t believe that Cecily’s mother isn’t here,” Kirk said as looked up from the menu that he was reading. “I don’t even think she knows how critically ill her daughter actually is.”

“Fuck her,” snarled Cliff as fluffed Cecily’s pillows. “Even if she did know, she still wouldn’t be here. She only thinks with her cooter”

“Cliff, that’s an awful thing to say,” scolded Mrs. Chelton.

“It’s true,” piped up Emily. “Sad but true.”

“That would make a jolly good song title, would it not?” Kirk asked.

Everyone looked at Kirk as if he had suggested that they all move to Pennsylvania and turn Amish.

“At leas they’re finally agreeing,” observed Mr. Chelton as he frowned at Cliff and Emily. They had been squabbling all night long.

“I’m only doing this for Cecily,” Emily said quietly, while avoiding eye contact with Cliff.

“I really do like your pajamas,” Cliff announced.

“They wouldn’t look good on you,” Emily snapped.

“I never said that they would,” Cliff returned.

“Room service!” a voice called.

“Oh goody!” Kirk cried. He jumped off of his chair, and went flying over to the door. Kirk had ordered a cart of sorts of delightful things. There were omelets stuffed with mushrooms and caraway seeds, smoked whitefish dip with crackers, shrimp cocktail, chicken skewers, raspberry mint parfaits, and ice cream balls covered with fudge and pecans. Kirk happily tipped the server, and then wheeled the cart inside the room.

“If anybody’s hungry, there is plenty to eat,” he announced. “I got food for everyone.”

“Great minds think alike Kirk Lee,” smiled Mr. Chelton as he tugged on one of Kirk’s springy curls. “I was just starting to get hungry myself.” He selected a chicken skewer.

“You can have some too Cliff,” Kirk offered, even though before falling asleep Lars had made it clear that Burton gets no food unless he buys it himself. His days of charging it to the record label were over. “Lars is asleep,” Kirk whispered. “He won’t know.”

“Ooh,” Cliff quipped. “I have to eat when the almighty Lars’s back is turned. Fuck that shit. I can’t eat right now anyways.”

“How could you not eat?” Kirk asked, as if Cliff had just proclaimed sacrilege. “I ordered the pecan ice cream balls just for you. You’re the only in the band that likes them.”

“I’m not in the band anymore,” Cliff replied, and he turned his attention back to Cecily.

“But I promised your Mother that I would see to it that you ate a proper, balanced, dinner every night,” Kirk whined.

“Since when do pecan ice cream balls constitute a proper, balanced, dinner?” Cliff snapped. “I kind of have worse problems on my mind right now than whether or not my mother is satisfied with my eating habits.”

“Don’t yell at me!” Kirk exclaimed, tears immediately stinging his eyes. “I thought we were friends!”

“There, there, Kirk Lee,” said Mr. Chelton as he reached for yet another chicken skewer. “Don’t cry now lad. I think that it’s safe to say that Clifford here has had a rough day.”

“That’s sure putting it lightly,” Cliff grumbled.

“The poor fellow has been fired, has no pay, no upcoming new album, he's lost all of his hopes and dreams, and he might be losing his little adopted daughter. I for one can say that I would feel extremely upset and sick with worry if anything happened to you Kirk.”

“Thank you Mr. Chelton,” Kirk replied glumly. “Likewise I’m sure.” He looked over at Cliff. “I wish you didn’t have to leave Metallica Cliff,” he wailed. “Are they really going to make you ride in steerage?”

“I’m going to try and call my Aunt Josephine,” said Cliff. “She might spring for me to ride home on an airplane at least. If I’m lucky, she’ll get me a first class seat. And don’t worry about me Kirk. I’ll be fine.”

“Won’t you at least come and get some food?” Kirk pressed again. “Lars will never know.”

Cliff shook his head. “I don’t give two hoots in hell about Lars,” he replied. “What the fuck is Lars going to do if I eat something? Fire me again? He can’t make me travel any worse than in steerage anyway. The reason that I’m not eating is because what if Cecily wakes up and I’m not right here, by her side? When she comes out of this fever, I want to be the first person that she sees.”

“She very well might never come back around Cliff,” said Mr. Chelton.

“Well if she does, I’m going to be sitting right here next to her,” retorted Cliff.

“Cecily is a very lucky little girl to have someone like you in her life,” commented Mrs. Chelton. “You’re going to make a wonderful father someday.”

Cliff blushed. “I already am,” he replied as he looked at Cecily’s still body. “I already am.”

“Cliff,” said Emily quietly. Cliff looked over at Emily who was studying him intently.

“What?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Emily replied, quickly looking away from him.

“You got sand in your cooter?” Cliff demanded.

“I said it was nothing!” spat Emily. “We uh, uh, just need to change Cecily’s IV again.”

“Again!” Cliff exclaimed in dismay. “The poor little girl ain’t going to have any veins left.”

“Mr. Mr. Cliff,” Cecily murmured. “Are you here?”

“I’m right here baby!” Cliff replied, grabbing Cecily’s hand. “She’s speaking! She spoke to me!”

As if she were the reincarnation of Bon Scott, Kirk, the Chelton’s, and even a sleepy and groggy Lars congregated around Cecily’s bed.

“Cliff, are you here?” Cecily moaned again.

“I’m right here Cecily!” Cliff stated again. He began to smooth out her hair. “I’m right here next to you Sweetheart!”

“Oh please Cliff,” Lars sighed in disgust. “It’s not like she’s the second coming or anything.”

“Lars,” piped up Emily. “Fuck off.”

Cecily very slowly opened her eyes. The room was blurry, but she thought that she saw Kirk’s puffy mound of fantastic eighties hair hovering about her.

“Where’s Cliff?” she asked again.

“Cliff’s right next to you darling,” Emily answered.

“Miss Emily!” Cecily cried, immediately perking up. For the first time that night, life sprung into the child’s eyes. Cecily tried to move over towards Emily, but she was still too weak.

“You just rest Cecily,” said Emily as she put her arm around her. “I’m right here.”

“Oh Miss Emily,” Cecily sighed. “I’m so glad that you’re here.”

“Of course I am,” replied Emily. “You gave me quite a scare.”

“Me too,” said Cliff.

“Ah, you two agree again,” said Mr. Chelton with a gleam in his eye. He winked at Cecily. “I’ll fix you a little soup. You may not feel like eating yet, but you really need to for your strength.”

“You’ll never leave,” Cecily said as she reached for Cliff’s hand. “Will you Mr. Cliff?”

Cliff gave Lars a very cold stare. Lars looked away, and went back to the raspberry mint parfait that he was demolishing.

“I won’t leave,” he told her, with another uncomfortable look at Lars, who was now licking whipped cream off of his fingers. “But you have to promise me that you’re not going to leave either. I was really worried about you. The very thought of you, you, oh Cecily I can’t even say it!” Cliff put his arm around Cecily and gave her a hug. Cecily managed a weak smile.

“I had the most wonderful dream Mr. Cliff,” she said.

“Did you get backstage to meet the Misfits?” Cliff asked.

“Well not exactly,” Cecily answered. “But they did play at the reception.”

“Reception?” Cliff asked.

“I dreamt that you and Miss Emily got married,” Cecily went on. She looked over at Emily. “You were in a beautiful gown. I gown that you designed yourself, and you had a very long veil that I got to help you put on. And I had a pink dress with a swishy skirt, and a basket of flowers. Mr. Kirk was there too. He was Mr. Cliff’s best man.”

“What did the flowers look like?” Kirk asked dreamily.

“They were roses,” said Cecily. “Pink and red roses wrapped with lace.”

“What kind of lace?” Kirk asked.

“Oh hush up you fairy!” Cliff squawked at Kirk as he smacked him upside the head. “Cecily, you need your rest. You can tell us about your dream later.” He bent over and kissed the top of her forehead.

Mrs. Chelton sat down at the bedside with a bowl of soup.

“You need to eat some of this Cecily,” she said. Cecily sniffed the soup and frowned. She looked over at Cliff.

“Do I have to?” she asked.

“Yep,” Cliff replied. “Glen Danzig would eat it if he were sick.”

Cecily, not satisfied with that answer looked over to Emily for help.

“I don’t have to eat the soup, do I Miss Emily?” she asked.

“You have to,” nodded Emily.

“Hey, you two agreed again!” Mr. Chelton exclaimed.

“Mr. Chelton, that’s enough of that kind of talk,” Emily said with a nervous laugh.

“I hate to say it,” said Cliff as he gave Cecily another little squeeze. “But I agree with her once again...”
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MissMetallica;;
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Poor Twisted Me
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im glad you got some sleep ashley. :)

my, my, this was wonderful. and im glad that cecily woke up :) yay cess, and cliff and emily, im thinking there may be something going on there. we shall see :biggrin

kirk is such a sweetie. ordering all that food! im surprised he's still got his sexy body even though he is eating all that yummy food!! and mr and mrs. chelton, they are soo beautiful. im glad they 'adopted' out little kirky.

cant wait for more!
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Shayi
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Bring me that horizon
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The room was blurry, but she thought that she saw Kirk’s puffy mound of fantastic eighties hair hovering about her.

^^ Now that hair is something that you seriously can't miss! Even if you tried to :) And what a thing to come round to... that monumental piece of follicular excellence :)

I'm glad that Cecily is awake - and I did think that Emily and Cliff were very sweet.

Poor Kirk trying to keep his promise to Cliff's mum only to have it shot down in flames there. Can't blame Cliff though with all he had to worry about. I suppose pecan balls aren't really top of the list (or that nutricious but still!)

As for Lars - he had best go crawling back to Cliff, asking him to stay in the band. If he doesn't. Well, he's a complete prat to be blunt ;)

I love this story so so much, I tend to read it in the morning and it's such a good way to wake up, with a mixture of giggles and drama. Awesome!
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Raedoll
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Poor Twisted Me
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Cecily's awake! YES. And I'm so happy she had a dream about Emily and Cliff getting married. I hope she can pull through, I really do. I'm glad Emily and Cliff are agreeing on some things as well!! Kirk is so sweet, trying to sneak food to Cliff so he can eat well. Lars is a dick. He should feel guilty about wanting to take away the only thing that would make Cecily happy. I'm eagerly waiting for the next chapter, I love little Cecily and doting old Mr. Chelton.
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Your reviews really help. Thank you. At least some things in life go smoothly.
I'm in a pissy mood. So this a pissy chapter. I'm just annoyed with people right now, and it sucks. Yeah. So I'm sorry if all the characters seem crochety as well. :angry




Chapter 39- The Dark Side of Life


“I’m sorry Cecily, but I have to,” Emily said as she picked up a brand new IV needle. “It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

Cecily took one look at the needle and squirmed.

“No!” she cried. “You’re not sticking that into me!”

“But we’ve been giving you fluids all night long,” Emily argued.

“I don’t need anymore! I’m better,” Cecily returned, but she fell into a fit of violent, nasty sounding coughs.

“I wouldn’t say that you’re out of the woods yet,” observed Mr. Chelton. “Be a brave girl Cecily, and let Miss Emily give you an IV.”

“No! It’ll hurt me!” Cecily cried between fits of coughs. She was still coughing up some blood. The blood and the sight of the needles had started to make the little girl feel very uneasy and anxious. She pulled her arm away from Emily.

“Cecily, calm down,” Cliff said. “You’re making yourself cough again. You’re sick, and we need to give you medicine through the IV to make you better. Don’t you want to get better so that we can go see the Misfits?”

Cecily quieted down, but she was still crying. “Don’t let her poke me Mr. Cliff,” she moaned.

Cliff sat down on Cecily’s bed and carefully set the girl in his lap, where Cecily settled right down rather contently in. “Do you remember just where we were in the last Misfits story that I was telling you?” he asked her.

“Oh yes,” nodded Cecily. “Evil Uncle Murdock blames Magnolia and Lucy for stealing a beautiful, amethyst, brooch that had belonged to his great grandmother. It’s an heir, heir, heir-”

“Heirloom,” Cliff finished for her. He glanced over at Emily and gave her a nod. Slowly, Emily took Cecily’s arm.

“But Evan and Willum saw Uncle Murdock’s mistress the evil Miss Sylvia, swipe it from his bureau. But Uncle Murdock won’t believe them either,” Cecily went on, not even noticing as Emily’s needle penetrated her flesh.

“Ah yes, now I remember,” Cliff said as he lit a cigarette. “And he has all four of the Misfit children, and Sir Diefenbaker locked up in the basement until they confess.”

“Oh my, that sounds kind of interesting,” said Kirk. He plopped down with an ice cream pecan ball, cross legged, at Cliff’s feet. “Then what happens?” he asked.

As Emily inserted the IV tube, Cliff kept Cecily and Kirk besotted by the story.

“Done,” Emily said with a flourish. “It’s in.”

“What’s in?” Cecily asked.

“Your IV. You were such a good girl,” Emily replied as she bent over and gave Cecily a kiss. “You should get some rest now.”

“And so should you,” said Mr. Chelton. He caught Cliff yawning out of the corner of his eye. “Actually, the three of you should.”

“I can’t leave little Cecily,” said Emily. “She may need me.”

“We can cover,” said Kirk as he licked the last remaining bits of chocolate sauce from his ice cream dish. “You guys really should take a break. You’ve been at her bedside for the entire night. She’s going to be asleep for a while anyway. If she needs anything, me, or Mr. or Mrs. Chelton, or even Lars, can get it for her.”

Cliff looked over at Lars, who had gone back to sleep in the other (formerly his old) bed. A small trail of drool was dancing out his mouth onto Cliff’s old pillow. For a moment, Cliff was glad that he was no longer allowed to sleep in that bed, especially since Lars had drooled in it.

“He ain’t going to do jack shit for her,” Cliff retorted.

“I will though,” said Kirk as he helped tuck Cecily into bed as she snuggled down and drifted off to sleep again. “You can trust me. If she needs anything, I’ll get it for her, and you know that the Chelton’s are wonderful.”

“I guess I would like a cup of coffee,” said Emily. “Do you think room service would bring some up?”

“They stop serving from 4 until 6,” Kirk reported, since he was very in tune with the room service schedule. “It’s like a break before the breakfast rush.”

“Rats,” muttered Emily. After being up for half of the night, coffee had sounded good.

“They have coffee down in the lobby 24 hours,” Cliff said. “I know this because Kirk and I have had it down there numerous times, at all various hours of the night. And best of all, it’s free for guests. I guess you’re not a guest exactly, but nobody gives a shit really.”

“Okay,” Emily nodded. She didn’t really like having to go down to the hotel lobby in her pajamas, but hell, it was five in the morning, hopefully there wouldn’t be that many people around. “I’m going to get some,” she announced. “Does anybody else want any?”

“I could use a cup,” Mr. Chelton and Mrs. Chelton chorused.

“Me too,” piped up Cliff.

“Can I have some as well?” asked Kirk as he prepared another damp washcloth for Cecily. “With exactly two spoonfuls of sugar and 2% milk please.”

“Okay,” Emily warbled, trying to remember Kirk’s coffee order with a very tired and drained brain.

“Go help her Cliff,” Mr. Chelton ordered.

“Pouring coffee isn’t brain surgery,” Cliff returned. He was tired. The last thing that he wanted to do was go down to the lobby. Plus, after his little incident with James in the hotel arcade, the night time security people weren’t too fond of him.

“She’ll need help carrying them back to the room,” said Mr. Chelton, frowning at Cliff. “She can’t juggle five cups of coffee by herself. Be a gentleman for crying out loud!”

“Yes sir,” Cliff mumbled, blushing. He looked over at Emily who was standing with her arms crossed, frowning at Mr. Chelton. “I guess I have to help you now,” he muttered, as he got up.

“And the fellow wonders why he can’t get laid,” Mr. Chelton stated, shaking his head as the two left the room.

The two were silent as they waited for the elevator. It was a rather awkward silence. As they stepped into the elevator Emily was trying to avoid looking at Cliff. She did this by staring intently at the poster that hung inside the elevator advertising Sunday brunch.

“Brunch ain’t that interesting,” Cliff said. “I’ve gone with Kirk a few times. It’s actually kind of shitty.”

“Huh?” asked Emily as she whirled around.

“You’re staring at that poster like it’s a fucking Picasso or something,” said Cliff.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Emily snapped.

“No,” Cliff muttered. “I think Cecily is going to make it.”

“I hope so,” Emily sighed. “She’s such a sweet little girl.” She paused as the elevator doors opened. “You’re really good with her. I can just see that she really adores you.”

“Contrary to lying about who her father is, I do really care about her,” Cliff said as they made their way over to the coffee table. “I’d do anything for the kid.”

“I can see that,” said Emily. “You were really worried about her tonight.”

“So were you,” Cliff returned as he picked up the coffee pot. “How do you take your coffee?”

“Just milk, no sugar,” replied Emily. She scanned the lobby for people, since she was feeling rather self conscious standing there in her pajamas.
She couldn’t see them all too well, for their backs were to her, but there was an intoxicated couple giggling foolishly over on the sofa.

“I was supposed to take Cecily to tea on Friday,” Cliff said as he prepared the coffees. Did Kirk want two spoonfuls of sugar or three? “But I don’t think that she’s going to feel up to it after being so sick. She’ll need to recover.”

“Bring tea to her,” Emily said with a shrug.

“Would you help me?” Cliff asked. “I don’t know what you people eat at tea.”

“Trust me,” said Emily. “Kirk would know.”

Cliff frowned. This wasn’t going where he wanted it to. “I was thinking that you could help me,” he went on. “And then maybe we could, uh, uh, well you know, go grab a drink at the bar, and uh talk and then do other stuff.”

“Cliff, if you’re trying to get laid, I’m not the girl to do that with,” sighed Emily. “Are you that fucking hard up? Go down to Madame Hettie’s.”

For crying out loud! she thought to herself. I have on flannel pajamas, frizzed hair, no makeup on right now, zits on my chin. These Metallica guys will sleep with anything.

“Cecily likes the both of us,” Cliff pointed out. “We both like her. I think that things could work out nicely for all of us.”

“You plan on moving to Denmark or better yet London, where I plan on going to fashion school, and where my family is?” Emily asked.

Cliff just looked down into his coffee. “Well, I’m not exactly employed at the moment, so there isn’t much for me back in California,” he said. “I guess I could go pretty much anywhere. I could dig England. I could take bass lessons with Geezer Butler.”

“Cliff, talk to James,” Emily said. “Metallica is half his band. You’re not officially fired unless he says so. You’re on his good side. He’d never fire you.”
Cliff looked thoughtful as he frowned at the selection of milk. They didn’t have 2%. Kirk was not going to like that one bit.

The couple over on the sofa had started to get a little carried away. Their moans and groans echoed throughout the entire lobby. “Okay,” Cliff muttered. “That’s quite enough!”

He put down the coffees, and stalked over to the sofa. The woman was squealing with pleasure.

“You two over there!” he croaked loudly as he approached them. “Get a fucking room for Christ sake! You’re in a fucking hotel! Just go up the god damn elevators!”

“Somebody must not be getting as much as we are!” A familiar voice shouted. “Hey fucker! Fuck off you dick! But wait a minute, you’re not getting any!”

Two familiar heads popped up from behind the back of the couch. Cliff’s heart sank. There went his good contact with James.

James, with his blond tresses all mussed and Claudia dressed in jeans and a red silk bra, stared back at him. Her shirt had gone missing somewhere, and both were absolutely obliterated.

“I work here!” a drunk Claudia snarled. “I can fuck wherever I want to!”

“Yeah asshole!” James yelled.

“James, it’s me, Cliff.”

“You’re not Cliff!” James cackled. He belched loudly, sending Claudia and even Cliff, into fits of giggles.

“Cliff doesn’t walk around at this hour!” he snorted. He gets stoned and then goes to bed by nine o’clock. Plus, you have some puss with you. Cliff never has any puss on him!”

“But he does make a great babysitter,” added Claudia. This sent both her and James into laughter.

“Now I’ve had quite enough!” snapped Emily. She walked over to them. “You two make me sick!” she shrieked. “While you two have been off getting pissed wasted, and doing God knows what all, we’ve been caring for your daughter! Your daughter who’s been deathly ill for the entire evening!”

“That’s rubbish!” snorted Claudia. “Cecily just has a little cold. She’s upstairs in her room, sleeping it off.”

“She’s upstairs in my room dying!” Cliff yelled. “She passed out from the fever! She’s spewing blood and guts all over the place.”

“Well now,” sputtered James. “We need to have her in a Metallica concert, on stage spitting blood out. That would be pretty hot.”

“It’s not funny James!” Cliff bellowed.

“You there!” barked The Concierge, who was scowling at Cliff. “Keep it down! Guests are trying to sleep.”

“Yeah Cliff,” James chirped. “You’ll wake all of the guests,” he mimicked.

“James, you’re drunk,” Cliff observed. “Let me take you back to your room.”

He reached over help his friend off of the couch, but James batted him away.

“Fuck off! Don’t lecture to me about being drunk! You’re fucking stoned all of the time!” he ranted.

“Don’t take my Jamie away from me,” Claudia begged Cliff. “You’re ruining all of our fun. We were just getting started.”

“Why don’t you get your ass upstairs and start being a decent mother to your daughter?” Cliff snapped as he turned to look at Claudia. “She’s very sick. She’s hooked up to IVs, and she’s scared. The poor little girl has been through so much already!”

Claudia glared at Cliff and rolled her eyes.

“Like I haven’t?” she stated. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be a single mother? To be young, beautiful, and be saddled with a kid? I didn’t choose to have a daughter Mr. Burton!”

“Stop it Claudia!” said Emily. “Don’t say things that you don’t mean because you’re drunk.”

“Shut up! I’m not going to listen to some frizzy haired eighties whore dressed in pink pajamas!” Claudia snapped as she got up off of the couch, staggering from being wasted.

“Hey! What’s wrong with my hair?” Emily shrieked.

Claudia stumbled over to James, using him as a crutch to hold herself up. She pointed over to Cliff.

“You have no idea what I’ve been through!” she yelled. “Since you think that Cecily’s so great, why don’t you take her? Take her away, and just leave me alone!”
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MissMetallica;;
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Poor Twisted Me
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wow. claudia is such a whore. she doesnt care one little bit about little cecily at all, cecily is laying there almost dying in cliff and kirk's hotel room and all shes worried about is going out and getting laid. god dammit i just want to give her a slap across the face and tell her to wake up to herself.

end rant. lol

cliff really cares about her, and he really knows how to keep her calm, even when she's getting needles stuck in her. good job cliff.

oh i hope emily and cliff get together. ill just have to wait and see what happens next!
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Raedoll
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Claudia and James are such bitches. I don't like them one little bit. :angry !! I'm glad Cliff is trying to make up with Emily, the poor dears need time for eachother and to get to know eachother. I hope things'll work out for them. :( Don't let Cecily die!!
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Shayi
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Man Claudia needs the BIGGEST bitch slap that the world has ever seen. What a complete whore from hell.

Cliff trying to make things work with Emily makes me chuckle... He's so damned awkward :) But it was quite funny. Never mind the fact he's trying it on with her when she's tired and ticked off already. Silly man. Talk about timing!

“And the fellow wonders why he can’t get laid,” Mr. Chelton stated, shaking his head as the two left the room. ^^ That line was excellent. The more Mr Chelton appears, the more I love the guy. He's like a wise old sage... he knows what the hell he's talking about!

I really hope that Claudia gets her comeuppance soon. And James for the matter, he has behaved like a prize prick through this whole thing!

I really am loving this story so, so much. It's amazing!

I hope things are goin' better for you and that less people are pissing you off now!

x
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Shayi- Thanks. You guys aren't pissing me off. Just other people are. And it's annoying. But your reviews help. :) And yep. Mr. Chelton is like an old sage. He's wise, good, wonderful.

Kristen- Claudia isn't exactly mother of the year. I've ended up making her the Queen of Mean.

Edgirl- I'm not sure what to do with Cliff and Emily. I almost think she'd be better suited for Kirk.


anyways, this next chapter is short (well for me anyway). I almost was going to make it a page longer, but I think the way I ended it was rather dramatic. :dance

I need to get my ass ready for work now.



Chapter 40- Goodbyes

James Hetfield rolled over and let out a huge painful groan. The sort of groan you make when you haven’t had a proper shit in over a week.

“What the fock is the matter with you?” Lars snapped from where he was curled up in his bed. “Have too much action last night?”

“Fuck you Ulrich!” James yelled. The yelling caused pain to sear through his entire skull, as if it were jammed in a pair of vice grips. He was having one mother fucking, huge-ass, brutal-as-fuck hangover.

James groaned again as the room came into the focus. He had somehow managed to get back to his own hotel room. For a million dollars, he wouldn’t be able to tell you how, but he did. He didn’t make it into his bed, choosing to pass out on the floor.

“I’m exhausted,” James muttered.

“You shouldn’t be!” snapped Lars. “You spent the entire night getting your dick stroked and coddled by my ex girlfriend, while I was nursing that bratty kid of hers.”

“I know it’s not really my business Lars,” said James. “But isn’t the brat a little bit too old to be breastfeeding?”

Lars gave James a look of disgust and disdain.

“Not that kind of nursing you ignoramus!” he snapped. “The brat was sick. I gave her fluids and medicines and IV needles, and shit like that the entire night.”

“You?” James snorted. “The almighty Lars Ulrich played nurse maid to a kid?” It was a very hazy memory, but James seemed to remember something about Cliff whining about Cecily and IV needles the previous night. He thought that it had been a dream though.

“I can’t believe that Lars,” James went on. “I mean yeah she’s your daughter, but you didn’t even visit your own mother when she was in the hospital having her cooter taken out.”

“For one thing James,” Lars started with an annoyed tone. “My mother did not have her cooter taken out, she had a hysterectomy.”

“Same thing,” James shrugged.

“And second, Cecily is not my daughter,” Lars said. The words actually felt kind of good as he said them. He felt free, and liberated.

James suddenly turned pale. “Of course she’s your daughter man.”

“Nope!” Lars said happily. “I’m glad I found out before I spent all of that money on that fancy boarding school for her.”

“You couldn’t have possibly have gotten the paternity test results yet,” argued James with a beer clogged brain.

“Don’t need to,” returned Lars. “Darling, sweet, wonderful, perfect Cliffy, told me the whole deal.”

“I just want you to know that I thought it was a totally sick and asinine idea,” said James. “I told Cliff and Kirk not to do it.”

“But you had fun spending my child support checks,” said Lars.

James looked away. He didn’t care what Lars said, he was not giving back his mink lined leather jacket. That fucking jacket was badass.

“And even though she’s not my daughter, I spent the entire night caring for her,” Lars went on. “If it weren’t for me little Cecily would probably be dead by now, though she’d probably be better off dead anyway. At least she’d be away from that whore mother of hers, and from that asshole Cliff.”

“Claudia is not a whore!” James retorted. “And Cliff is not an asshole! Well at least once in a while he’s not.”

“Cut the bullshit James,” said Lars. “I know all that’s happened. My Dad just wasted his money on paternity tests and shit.”

Lars didn’t bother to tell James about Cliff being fired, at least not yet he didn’t. He knew that James probably wouldn’t be down with it since he and Lars had courted Cliff like a couple of lovesick groupies just to get him to join Metallica in the first place. They had even done everything on Cliff’s long list of demands that he had before he would think about joining the band. This list included relocating the band to San Francisco, giving him ten thousand dollars cash, buying him a new car, making sure there was always a bowl of M&M’s with the red ones picked out backstage at every gig, and an all expense paid trip to Disney Land.
Lars knew for sure that James would have a shit fit once he had found out that Cliff had been given the boot, and Lars didn’t want to deal with a shit fit in the morning.

James was finally sitting up, but he couldn’t hold his head up. The room was spinning. He wondered how Claudia had faired out.

“You never know Lars,” he said. “Cecily might turn out to be your daughter.”

“I’d say that the chances are pretty slim,” Lars returned. “Claudia’s a whore. I’m surprised that her snatch isn’t hanging down to her knees. Hell, it should be dragging on the floor picking up dust.”

“Enough!” James shot. “I’m fucking sick of you picking on my girlfriend. I don’t pick on your girls.”

“That’s because I date hotter women than you do,” Lars scoffed. He rolled out of bed. “Tis a beautiful morning,” he stated as he strolled over to the window.

“Is there snow?” James asked.

“Of course.”

“Well then it ain’t beautiful,” snapped James. Just then, a wave of intense nausea came over him. The booze, cherry rum, and big Italian meal that he had last night, started to dance around his belly in a sea of alcohol, causing acid to trickle up his throat. “Oh God!” James gasped, throwing his hand up over his mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Heavens to Betsy James!” Lars squealed. “Get your ass to the bathroom then! I swear between you and Cecily, I’ve sure as hell had enough of sick people.”

***

Kirk and Cliff were standing alone in their hotel room. Lars had phoned hotel security telling them that Cliff was to be out of the room by 1 PM at the latest.

“Must you leave Cliff?” a very distraught Kirk asked as he watched Cliff slip into his coat, and throw his scarf around his neck. "You still have a few hours left," he pleaded.

“Aunt Josephine got me on the noon flight. She even got me first class,” said Cliff. “Damn, my Aunt Josephine kicks ass. She's even going to pick me up at the airport and let me stay at her vineyard for a few days. Anyway, I have to leave now, or else I’ll have to ride in steerage. I’d much rather travel on a plane first class, than on a slow, old, boat for two months with the rats. I’m going to have to take the shitty bus to the airport though. I don’t have the money for a cab. The bus always takes twice as long. It’s at least a two hour bus ride. I really should get on my way now.”

“Will you write to me?” Kirk asked pathetically.

“Absolutely,” Cliff nodded. “Every fucking day. And you can send me new issues of The Metallinews. I’m sure whoever my replacement is will help you write them.”

“They won’t be as good,” Kirk sniffled.

Kirk’s eyes were filled with tears. He was loosing his best friend. “What am I going to do without you?” he cried. “Who will help me make newspapers? Who will teach me counterpoint? Who will tell me Misfits stories?”

“Kirk, we can still see each other,” said Cliff. “I see Mustaine all of the time. We just won’t be playing in the same band. Now stop crying. You’ll wake up Cecily. She really needs her rest.”

Cecily had been peacefully resting the entire morning. A healthy pinkness was in her cheeks, though the rest of her was still really pale, and a little gray. Her breathing was still rather raspy. Cliff had decided to duck out while she was still sleeping. It would be much easier to do that than explain to the girl why she was loosing her godfather. He also wouldn’t have to deal with her begging him to take her back to the United States with him. She seemed to be doing much better after the long night, and the Chelton’s and Emily had gone back home. But still, the last thing that a recovering girl needed was any stress or excitement.

“I’m going to miss you so!” Kirk cried, and he buried his face deep into Cliff’s jacket. Cliff looked away, for he really didn’t want Kirk’s mop of black curls right in his face. Plus, he didn’t want to start crying over Kirk. It was one thing to cry over Cecily, but crying over Kirk was just plain weird.

Kirk locked himself in the bathroom, and climbed into the bathtub where he could cry in full blown tears without disturbing Cecily. Cliff walked over to Cecily’s bed. It would be the last time that he would probably ever see her. She looked just as angelic as could be, and so very quiet as she rested. A sweet smile was upon her face, for Cliff had gotten her to fall asleep with another Misfits story. She was blessed with very long eyelashes, the lucky girl.

Cliff wanted to bend over and give her a little kiss, but he was certain that he’d wake her. A few stubborn tears began to form in his eyes. He’d miss the lively little girl that used to run around, adoring him as if he were a God. He had been the closest thing that she had ever had to a father, and she was certainly the closest thing that he’d ever had to a daughter. And now, he was leaving her. Would she soon forget about him? He knew for a fact that he would never, ever, forget her. She’d always be his little Cecily, the first kid that he ever had liked, and didn’t want to have shot immediately.

“Good bye Cess,” he whispered. “I hope that you won’t ever forget about Glen Danzig, or Geezer Butler, or Cliff Burton.” He gently tugged on one of her long locks of hair, grabbed his luggage, and his bass, and turned to leave.

“Goodbye Kirk,” he said to the locked bathroom door. Kirk replied with sobs and sniffles. “Come on Kirk,” Cliff grumbled. “Open the door Kirk!This is it. Can’t I have another hug?”

The door did not open.

“Don’t leave!” Kirk warbled through tears. Cliff sighed. Kirk was sure not making this very easy for him. It was a damn good thing that he hadn’t told Cecily, or else he would have her pissing and moaning over him as well.

“Well, I’m leaving now,” Cliff said to the closed door. Kirk’s answer was another pathetic moan. “Pussy,” Cliff muttered, and with that, he was gone…
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Raedoll
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Poor Cliff!! Lars is such a dick! I don't like him anymore. James is an ass. Aunt Josephine is pretty friggan awesome to help her Nephew out. I hope Lars realizes that Metallica's not as great without him. BLARGH. Poor Cecily, she'll just be sick with grief without Mr. Cliff to be there and tell her Misfits stories, and be her bass teacher, and dry her tears and give her hugs. Claudia's a bitch too.
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