( ✿ ) - - - i want a hug { pushing daisies } // dnp.

[annies boobs]

olive snook
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx don't mess with this pie ho!

If Olive was worried about anything to do with this Dale Fields thing, she was worried about Ned. Emerson had been a private eye for so long now, and he was definitely the best in the business. He'd been through this before, ex-cons hellbent on finding him out. Ned, on the other hand, hadn't been doing it for so long. She didn't even know what he did for Emerson Cod, but they'd been partners for a while. Same with Chuck. She thought on that for a little while. What was it about secrets in their group? And why was she the one who was always left out? It took her forever to find out that Chuck faked her death, and to know why she and Ned didn't touch. She still didn't know why the broke up, or what hand the ex couple of the year had in all those cases.

And on the flip side, she'd been forced to keep a lot of secrets. She still liked Ned. She might love Ned. She wanted Ned! That was something she had to keep from Ned. And Chuck. And for the longest time, she had to keep the identity of Chuck's mother to herself. That secret was the one that almost drove her mad, into the convent even! She might still be there if it wasn't for the pie maker, on one of the very, very few occasions when they got close. Like when he caught her in his arms by mistake, when they kissed, and when they competed together at The Papen County Comfort Food Cook-Off. However, all of those quickly ended, and Ned always went back to Chuck. Except for this time.

Olive sighed softly, continuing to run her hand along Digby's soft fur. He seemed to be enjoying it. Well, he should enjoy it. Actual human contact was a lot better than being petted by a hand on a stick. She wondered if Ned was ever going to admit that, or if he'd ever do something about it. "Well, you and Chuck had a hand in it." She wasn't really bitter about not being included. She was used to it by now. Really, she was just stalling for time, hoping that she could keep Ned's attention a while before she had to launch into her story about Chuck. She didn't even really have a story, like she admitted to herself before. She never got time alone with him, and she didn't want this precious time to be all about his ex girlfriend. She'd rather talk about a merciless killer bent on revenge.

"Still, you're around Emerson enough. He might go after you just out of spite." Would he? Well, she didn't know these types! But she did know that the pie maker looked as though a visit from Dale Fields would be welcomed right about now. Was she really that...well, undesirable? He couldn't stand her company that much? He was fidgeting, probably because he was uncomfortable. And then...

They touched. It was the first time that had happened since a really long time ago. Since even before the comfort food competition. And nothing happened. She was expecting him to break out into hives or something, have some allergic reaction to her like he would with Chuck. "It's okay." She said, "Chuck is okay." Here goes. "She didn't say much."

[stick me on]

NEDxxxxxxxxx
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXTHE PIE MAKER

Listening to Olive, Ned couldn’t help but feeling just a little bit nervous - noted the ever present omniscient narrator. It wasn’t just the fleeting scent of Olive’s soap and perfume weaving its way from Ned’s nostrils to his heart, making him flutter and fidget uncontrollably. The thought of death - well, his death anyway - was making Ned’s mind go into overdrive. He was a thinking, therefore he was thinking about how Fields would probably go after them. Olive, as usual, was dead right. Chuck and Ned were guilty by association. The press had hounded Emerson and, being his usual selfish self, Emerson took full credit for the capture. (He was probably kicking himself for doing so.) Either way, Chuck and Ned were part of Dale Field’s incarceration. Although Fields wasn’t the brightest lightbulb, he was certainly the most vicious. A sickly bile churned in Ned’s stomach. Fields would probably have The Pie Hole under surveillance. Dale Fields probably assumed that Olive Snook was in on the deal as well.

It made sense - unfortunately. Olive was constantly hanging about Emerson, Ned, and Chuck. Any third party would naturally assume that she was part of the ploy. No matter how badly Olive wanted in on the private investigation business, the fact that Fields associated her with Emerson was bad news. It put Olive at risk. “Fields will probably think that you’re involved to, since you’re always around Emerson, Chuck, and I.” Was it wrong that Ned wished that Olive was around him more? In trying times Olive seemed to be his only comfort. Chuck had ran off the nurse her broken life (or was it considered death?) - but Ned could understand that, it was his fault after all. Always the king of low self-image and self deprivation, Ned blamed, blamed, and continue to blame himself.

But now it was time to move on. Ned never liked ripping the preverbal band-aid, but it had to be done. For weeks now him and Chuck had been slowly peeling at the corners, ripping hair and flesh. This couldn’t go on any longer. She didn’t say much. Chuck had nothing to say. She had nothing to say to him. She had nothing to say about him. At this point all seemed lost, Ned’s heart even stopped fluttering at the sight of Chuck, a tell-tale sign. His heart now fluttered for another, and that heart could possibly flutter for him. “I’m thinking about ending - errrrr - things with Chuck.”

Silence. What do you say after a statement like that?

Ned began tapping his fingers on his thigh, waiting for Olive’s imput. Whatever she said, he would got with it. That little course of action was decided. Ned knew down to his bones that Olive was trustworthy. Even though some romantic tension existed between them (mostly stemming from Ned’s side - or so he thought), she had still been supported of the complex relationship between Ned and Chuck. The topic of touching had only been brought up a few times. After Ned expressed his discomfort, Olive had kept her incredibly kissable lips shut. Speaking of incredibly kissable, Ned’s mind flashed back to the kiss that he and Olive had shared a couple of months back. Olive had her life threatened before, he remembered, the case of the jockey from the dead returning back to him. She was so small - so strong. Ned felt the urge to kiss her again.

He didn’t. He couldn’t. Instead he began fidgeting again, wringing his hands together. It was always good to keep his hands occupied, if he didn’t he might accidently touch something. And King Midas thought that turning things into gold was bad. Unknowingly, Ned was slowly moving closer towards Olive. Maybe it was some weird psychological thing? Was his subconscious really that powerful? He remembered that conversation he had once had with Olive. She had asked him why he never touched Digby. We all need to be touched, she said. Olive had been right. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”

[annies boobs]

olive snook
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx don't mess with this pie ho!

"Oh."

Olive couldn't say any more about it, since she honestly hadn't thought about it. She was never put in this place before, one of Emerson's past busts going after her. Yes, she had been put in danger before. However, that had nothing to do with Emerson or Chuck or Ned. This was entirely new, and the thought hadn't occurred to her that maybe Fields thought she was one of the group. It was strange, because she often didn't think of herself as one of the group. Groups knew each other intimately. They knew all about one another. They had secrets. Ned and Emerson had secrets. What was it they did when they went on investigations? Ned had secrets with Chuck too, like why they weren't speaking, or why she faked her death. Olive's only secret was that she wished with all of her heart that she was more than just a friend to the pie maker. And even that wasn't so much of a secret! Both Chuck and Emerson knew that. Maybe Ned did as well. No, it wasn't a maybe. Ned probably knew. Probably was a stronger word than maybe. It was highly probable that Ned knew. She had nearly given it away several times.

There was the time when they kissed, the time when she accidentally fell into him. There was the time when he got her to leave the nunnery, the time they went to the cook off and had to solve a crime all on their own. That had been one of the only times she'd felt accepted. It was just Ned and her, and no one else. They caught the bad guy together, without any outside help. If that didn't convince Emerson that she was good enough to join his band of detectives, she didn't know what was. Though, she was beginning to think that maybe it was better this way. Not being in the group meant that Fields would come after her. But what if Fields came after her anyway? Just her working at the Pie Hole meant that she was hanging around them. And hanging around them was what was putting her in danger in the first place. Olive's mind was going in circles. She didn't want to be killed by an escaped murderer, but she wanted to spend the extra time with Ned and everyone else. But especially Ned. Ned was the one she wanted to be with, the one she wanted to accept her. In all her letters to her family and her old school chums, she even told them that Ned was her fiance.

Well, that was never going to happen, not as long as he was still in love with Chuck. And if he loved Chuck as much as he said and looked like he did, they weren't going to end up being separated for good. She probably just needed her space for a while, so that she could deal with whatever she was dealing with. And when she was ready, Ned would take her back with open arms. Even Olive had called them the perfect couple once. They just seemed to love each other that much, and she would have thought it was cute if she didn't want Ned so much. Back when there were no problems, he didn't even glance in her direction while Chuck was like that. She wished it could be that way with her, but she was seeing that it would never be.

Bam. The minute Olive was finally starting to accept that things were never going to go in her favor, he dropped this on her. He wanted to end things with Chuck? Did he really just saw that? It was like she had just been hit by a big yellow schoolbus, and she didn't even see it coming. "End things?" She repeated, looking at him with a questioning gaze. What was more surprising than him saying it, was that he was asking her if she thought it was a good idea. What on Earth was she supposed to say to that? Don't do it because you know you love her? Do it because she's eventually going to come back to you? Do it because I want to be with you? She'd love more than anything to give voice to the latter, but that would be horrible. She liked seeing Ned and Chuck happy, and they were both happiest when they were together. She'd always accepted that they were together, even when she didn't want to.

"Well, um, you're not really together that much anyway..."

Strange as it was, her words were actually true. They weren't together anymore. Well not really. How long had it been since their fight? She couldn't exactly remember, but it was much longer than usual, if there were any hope of the couple getting back together. Then again, was there any real formula for a perfect relationship? Olive's head was still spinning, perhaps even more so than it had been earlier. She needed to sit down. Darn, she was sitting down! She needed to stand up! She rose from her seat, if only for the sake of moving around. However, she'd completely forgotten that Digby was right in front of her. Before she could even register what had happened, she tripped over the golden retriever and was sent tumbling to the floor. Only to land in Ned's arms.

[stick me on]

NEDxxxxxxxxx
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXTHE PIE MAKER

Olive. Tiny little Olive Snook had fallen into Ned’s large awkward arms.

Oh, what to do? What to do?

That was a dilema that was not running through Ned’s mind. For the first time in his life, Ned was not over-analyzing the situation. Pros and cons were not being weighed, being considered. Ned was just holding the tiny little Olive in his arms. He didn’t even notice how small she was. Everything about Olive was small. Standing at a petite 4’11, Ned towered over her at 6’3. He was exactly 1’4 taller than her. But that didn’t matter, she was in his arms after all. But, Ned wasn’t thinking about Olive’s hight or her strong little frame. He was thinking about how much her loved olives. Olives were yummy, they were good in salads and in pizzas. Olives were also good in martinis, even though Ned didn’t drink he couldn’t help but make the comparison. Was there any other food that was nearly as versatile? No - Ned didn’t think so.

He was pie. She was olives. (Duh.)

Pie had one use and one use only: as a pie. A pie was a pie. It wasn’t versatile or adaptable. Sure, there were a myriad of flavors, but a pie was still a pie. What could you do with pie? You couldn’t take a slice and sprinkle it over a pizza or a salad. No. A pie was a dish in itself. Was there anything two things more different than pies and olives? Ned didn’t think so. (However, didn’t opposites attract?) Anyway, the point was that Ned wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t analyzing the situation to death. Nuh huh.

He just kissed her instead. Forgetting himself, Ned leaned in and brushed his lips tentatively against hers. Their second kiss. It was gentle, breezy, light. Most importantly, it was all natural. It wasn’t like one of those awkward kisses that happened on first dates. Where you stand around for what seems like an eternity before the incredibly uncomfortable kiss. It was only after Ned realized what he did that things got tense. With Olive still in his arms, the realization hit him. He had just kissed Olive.

“Umm - I guess Chuck and I are over.”

[annies boobs]

olive snook
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx don't mess with this pie ho!

Olive's head had stopped spinning. Instead, she felt completely lost. Lost in this moment, in the delicious calm after her sweet kiss with Ned. It was one of those tender kisses, the ones that just felt right, even if the timing was totally wrong. His lips were incredibly soft, and his embrace was incredibly warm. She felt cozy in his arms, safe, like she was supposed to be there. Or maybe she wasn't supposed to be there, it was just that neither of them cared. It's said that the world falls away when two people who love each other connect like that. Maybe that's what just happened. Did she love Ned? Maybe. Did Ned love her? Who knows. But if he didn't feel something, then why on Earth was he kissing her?

She smiled to herself, for the moment unwilling to stand up straight. She forgot all about Chuck and all about Dale Fields. Right now she was focusing on she and the pie maker. If things were over between him and Chuck, then there was the possibility that whatever this was could be lasting. She could be included in the group. She could be in on all the secrets, and she could spend as much time as she wanted with Ned, for no reason at all. It sounded completely perfect in her head, and she soon found herself praying that Ned hadn't just kissed her in the heat of the moment. There was a lot of evidence that they could be with each other, right? He always complimented her, especially on her cooking. Of course, that could just be him being nice. There was the cook-off, wasn't there? And there was the deal with the nunnery, and their first kiss. Now there was their second kiss.

Olive got to her feet and scratched Digby's head. After all, he was the one who made this moment possible. He deserved some credit, and some affection. He deserved to be touched, and so did Ned. However, she didn't dare to do that. She had forgotten about one thing.

"You're not going to break out in hives or anything, are you?"

It seemed like a ridiculous question, but she really meant it. When she asked Ned why he didn't touch Chuck, he said something about being allergic or his skin reacting unpleasantly with hers. She didn't know the details, and she wasn't a scientist person anyway. It didn't make sense. He'd touched her before. They'd kissed before. And nothing happened. Still, she wanted to make sure because she cared about him, and she definitely didn't want to hurt him. Another reason why she said it was because she didn't want to ask him about the kiss or about Chuck. Scratch that. She wanted to badly. She just didn't know how to do so, or how he'd react.

{ occ: i'm sorry this is soooo short, but i wanted to get it out quick. }

[stick me on]

NEDxxxxxxxxx
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXTHE PIE MAKER

Damn Digby. What a lucky, lucky dog. Who else could lure Olive from Ned’s arms, leaving them cold and barren? Olive had sprung up and reached over to scratched Digby behind the ears. Lucky, lucky dog. How did he do it? How did Digby do it? What was it about dogs that made women go weak at the knees. Ned just couldn’t figure out how Digby managed to reduced the perky macaroni-baking Olive to a love struck girl who cooed over him and scratched his ears. Perhaps Ned could have asked the omniscient narrator that detailed every aspect of his life. In fact, Ned had tried that several times. Each time, however, he was sorely let down. Omniscient narrators tend to be very mysterious and, it seemed to Ned, that they didn’t like providing any answers - nevermind useful, life changing answers. Which, Ned felt, really sucked.

Do you know what else sucked? Ned was hungry. Starving, in fact. And he wanted pizza. Pizza with rocket salad, mushrooms, and olives. Did that just end up sounding dirty? Oh god, Ned’s mind was going into overdrive, trying to moderate his conflicting feelings. He had crushed on Olive for a while, about a week now. It was an unhealthy infatuation that Ned reasoned had stemmed from the strife between him and Chuck. But apparently that was no longer the case. Now, Ned felt that their relationship had grown from the years of mutual respect and workplace familiarity. Oh yeah, and their first kiss had definitely jump started things.

But now it seemed that hives would slow things down. Hives? Hives? What was she talking about? Ned didn’t have hives. Well, he kinda did - in a sense. Bees lived in hives didn’t they? Well, Ned had managed to capture a bunch of bees and store them above the Piehole for Chuck. Is that what she meant by break out in hives? Uhhh . . . Ned didn’t think so. “Hives?” What did she mean by that? Was this some snide reference to Chuck. That didn’t seem much like Olive. With his mind still scrambled from the kiss, (Ned’s mind was working in overdrive to compensate for his momentary lapse in judgment) he couldn’t quite figure out what she was asking. So, instead of spewing out some half-articulate actually asking the question, Ned just stared at Olive.

But damn, he was hungry. “Err - Do you want to get something to eat?” Pizza, maybe? With rocket salad, mushrooms, and olives?

[annies boobs]

olive snook
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx don't mess with this pie ho!

Olive had to stop and think for a minute. Chuck did say something about why she couldn't touch Ned. She was almost certain it had something to do with them being allergic, or one of them having very sensitive skin. Or something like that. It didn't really make sense to her. People couldn't be allergic to other people, could they? Maybe it was just her perfume, or the soap that she used. Or maybe it was the soap that Ned used. Either way, she wondered why Ned was questioning her. Maybe she just worded it wrong, or chuck worded it wrong when she told her.

"Chuck said you couldn't touch because-"

Oh well. Olive didn't care why they couldn't touch. The point was that she could touch him and nothing bad was going to happen. She had just spent a good minute in the pie maker's arms, and the only result was her marveling in how wonderful it felt and how much she didn't want to let go. Why had she let go? She thought it was right. She would love to have stayed there for hours and hours, but she didn't want to bother Ned. Blissful as the kiss had been, there was still some doubt. It wasn't a sure sign that Ned felt the same way. Therefore, she shouldn't risk it. It could have been a one time thing.

But if it was a one time thing, why was he asking her if she wanted to get something to eat? In movies, that's what men said when they were asking women on dates. It was either that, or asking if they wanted to have coffee. So he was asking her on a date? Or was she just wishing he was asking her on a date? Maybe "do you want to get something to eat" just meant "do you want to get something to eat?" If it was just a normal question between friends, why was it the follow up to a kiss?

It seemed like Olive couldn't stop her mind from reeling. First it was the thing about Dale Fields, the Chuck, then the kiss, and now this "date." Plus, there was something else she had completely forgotten to consider about the kiss. It felt like it was supposed to happen. Maybe it was supposed to happen. Maybe Ned was planning it all along, ever since he asked her to spy on Chuck. It just probably wasn't meant to happen that way. Dammit, she needed to stop doing this. She needed to stop over thinking things, and just let whatever was going to happen happen. He asked her to go out to eat with him. It was a perfectly normal question.

"Sure. I'm kind of hungry anyway."

Olive wasn't hungry at all.

[stick me on]

NEDxxxxxxxxx
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXTHE PIE MAKER

WA - WA -WAIT! HOLD THE PHONE! CHUCK SAID SOMETHING?!!

Oh my holy bajesus. Ned was going into cardiac arrest right now. He was seriously freaking out. Chuck said something?! Chuck said something about why they couldn’t touch. HOLY BAJESUS! Did Olive know Ned’s little secret? Oh damn. Damn. Damn. Damn. Tripping over the coffee table, Ned stumbled, his limbs sprawling everywhere, before he landed flat on his face. It was a very awkward position, with his face on the floor and his long gangly legs on the coffee table. In the process Ned had managed to smash his lovely vase full of everlasting daisies. His hand had reached out, trying to steady his fall, and crashed into the vase, knocking it the the floor. The glass shattered, cutting his hand. But that was the least of Ned’s problem. What he was really worried about was the fact that his hand had brushed along the eternally dewy petals.

Now the bundle of flowers were sprawled across the floor, brown, wilted, and absolutely dead forever.

Hopefully Olive didn’t notice this tiny, little change in liveliness. Ned certainly hoped that she didn’t. Only a few moments ago Ned was thinking about how things could not get any more awkward. Haha. Right. And Ned thought one little kiss was awkward. Damn it, he should have knocked on wood. What was the realization that he could bring dead things back to life? Huh? Oh yeah, and what was the realization that his second touch would kill that certain thing forever? For a split second, Ned actually wished that Chuck told Olive about their long and sworded history. That would save a lot of explanation on his part. And then Ned realized that it would have been a hell of a lot simpler if Olive had not noticed anything.

Oh please, please, pleaseeee don’t notice anything!

“Al-al-alright! Errrr - GREAT!” Ned’s voice was hurting his ears. At one moment he was whispering and stuttering, the next he was screaming at the top of his lungs. Could anyone say that this situation was awkwarddddddd? Yes, it was incredibly awkward. Sprawled across the coffee table with a bleeding hand and evidence of his supernatural abilities, Ned wanted to get out of his apartment as soon as possible. Maybe Dale Fields would just burst in and kill him. That would be nice. A sudden death would save Ned from tearing off the proverbial band-aid. Ned really didn’t want to explain this entire situation to Olive. Unfortunately, there was one hitch in the entire Dale-Fields-bursting-in-and-kill-Ned plan: Olive. For one, she would be in danger. That was a definite no-no to a chivalrous man like the pie-maker. The second little problem would be that Olive had witnessed his death. Witnessing death was always traumatic. He didn’t wish it on anyone, nevermind sweet little Olive.

It seemed that the pie maker would just have to live and do some old-fashioned damage control. Ned sucked at damaged control. “Eeer - Where do you wanna eat?” he asked, hastily gathering himself up, trying to hide his bleeding hand. A bloodied appendage would only make Olive concerned. If she was concerned she would come forward and investigate. Then she might notice the dead daises.

Ned did not want her to notice the dead daisies. He certainly wasn't hungry anymore.

[annies boobs]

olive snook
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx don't mess with this pie ho!

What did she do?!

Olive couldn't gather her thoughts fast enough to register what had just happened. A minute ago, she and Ned were speaking together perfectly. Well, not perfectly. Some of it was perfect, like the kiss, but the rest of it was just awkward and confusing. And now he was sprawled on the floor, his face pressed against the carpet, legs in a completely opposite direction. How did he manage to do that? One moment he's talking about getting something to eat, and then next he's stumbling and doing a face plant! She hoped it wasn't her fault. Did she say something? Did she do something? She couldn't think of anything! But that didn't matter anymore. Her fault or not, she had to help Ned! It was only the right thing to do.

Olive bent down to reach him, offering a hand to help him up. However, it seemed that the clumsy pie maker was intent of doing that himself. By the time she could utter a gasp or say something to him, he was up on his feet again, shouting for no apparent reason. She must have done something. Ned wasn't a clumsy guy, and he wasn't one to really shout. Sure, he was clumsy with words, as he was currently demonstrating, but he wasn't psychically clumsy. Psychically, he was very good looking, even if he was a lot taller than she was. He reminded her of that fact nearly every day, and more so right now. When he was on the ground, he didn't appear so large statured. But now he was towering over her as usual.

"Are you all right?"

Did he look all right? No. Definitely not. He still looked like he was in shock of something, not that Olive knew what that was. He was also doing well to try and hide something from her, and in response she only moved closer to him. It probably wasn't the best thing to do after that episode, but she didn't care. He hadn't asked her to leave yet. In fact, he'd said "great" about something. Oh, right! Going out to eat. Were they still doing that? They weren't if he was hurt, and Olive suddenly remembered something about what had just happened. She'd heard glass breaking! With the realization, she sidled up to Ned, grabbing his bloodied appendage with concern.

"Maybe we should go eat another time." Olive then dropped his hand and went further into the pie maker's apartment, intent on finding something to dress the wound. She casually stepped over the broken glass. That would be taken care of soon enough, but right now Ned was more important.

"You should have thrown those daisies out if they were dying."

[stick me on]

NEDxxxxxxxxx
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXTHE PIE MAKER

“Yep. Fine. Snazzy. Alright. Just peachy peachy.” With a response like that, Ned was obviously not alright. He had managed to string together all of the possible affirmative answers for Olive’s question. Are you alright? Ned certainly was not alright. His heart was beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird. Those tiny little things flap their wings an average of fifty times a second. When courting, hummingbirds could beat their wings up to 200 times a seconds. Now, knowing these seemingly random and useless facts, Ned couldn’t help but wonder whether he was average or courting. It seemed like a strange question, but Ned’s subconscious couldn’t help but to ask it. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to think about how he had just revealed to Olive that he had frickin’ super powers! (Although, there was nothing really so ‘super’ about Ned’s ability to reanimate the dead.)

Unfortunately, Ned couldn’t muse about hummingbird wings forever. (Although, he desperately wanted to.) Sooner or later, he would have to deal with this little dilemma. Ned contemplated oh so subtly kicking the daisies underneath the coffee table, but that would have just drawn attention to their state of uhhh dead-ness. Instead, the conscious effort was made to get Olive out of the living room a.s.a.p. But the tiny little waitress was foiling Ned’s plans. Dammit! Instead of agreeing to the dinner plans (A date? Did that mean that they were courting? If so, Ned’s heart was beating 200 times per second, just like a hummingbird.) Olive had spotted his bloodied hand and gently took it into her own hands. Oh. My. Lord.

Ned was going to have a heart attack. If they were courting - and Ned believed that they were, kinda - his heart would have already been fluttering 200 times a second. With the addition of her tiny hands over his large ones, Ned’s heart jumped into overdrive. It was probably beating 782,421,435,657,643,345 times a second of something like that. The point was, Ned’s heart was beating even quicker now. His breathing grew faint and stopped all together, a large dry lump forming in his throat. Ned wanted to kiss her - again. He really did. His bloodied hand ached to caress her face and pull her lips to his. However, before he could do anything Olive mentioned the daises.

HOLY BAJESUS!

Oh. . . Wait . . . Olive didn’t notice anything. Olive thought that those daisies were already dead. Oh thank god. Ned immediately looked to the ceiling and muttered thank you, paying homage to the omniscient narrator that controlled his life. The irregular beating of his heart still hadn’t died down. It seemed that his heart responded to many things: lust, fear, happiness, nervousness, anything really. Right now his heart was responding to Olive. Thank god she didn’t know. Thank god. Thank god. Thank god! “Oh. I didn’t notice.” That was a lie. Ned seemed to be lying a lot to Olive. Why couldn’t he tell her the truth? Why couldn’t he just go up to her and say, “Olive, I have the ability to touch dead things and bring them back to life.” Emerson and Chuck knew. Even Digby knew. Wasn’t it fair that Olive knew too? That way everyone at the pie hole would know his little secret. That was fair, wasn’t it?

Looking at his hand, just to assess damage and to calm his frazzled nerves, Ned saw something of concern. There was a large shard of glass sticking out of his flesh. Uhhhh, that wasn’t good. “Olive,” Ned said, swallowing. “I hope you aren’t squirmish, but I need your help.” He showed her his hand, bloodied and invaded by glass. He would have pulled it out himself, but his right hand had a giant piece of glass in it. Ned was right handed. Their was no way he could do anything with his left hand.

[annies boobs]

olive snook
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx don't mess with this pie ho!

"Sure, I don't mind helping."

Olive could see why people often thought she was squeamish or upset by or afraid of blood. It was because she was little and bubbly, even cute. She didn't really try to be that way. It was just how she was, normally happy and quirky. Nobody knew that she sometimes longed to be a private investigator like Emerson, solving crimes and being swept in the excitement. It was because of the movies, probably. Or all the crime shows she watched, like CSI and Bones. Maybe it was even the Film Noir that her dad got her into. But whatever the case, she was used to the blood and gore, if only for that reason. Just yesterday she saw a bunch of cats eating the flesh off a decomposing murder victim. What was a shard of glass sticking out of Ned's hand? As soon as she found a first aid kit, she'd be ready and willing to help him out.

When she found said white box, which was hiding in one of the pie maker's cupboards, she returned to the scene of the crime. She skillfully maneuvered herself around the broken glass and dead daisies, and took a seat beside Ned on the couch. It would be much easier to work that way, since he was so much taller than she was. Opening the kit, she then set it on the table beside her, and took Ned's hand in hers. She immediately bit down on her bottom lip at the sight, feeling a strange twinge in the pit of her stomach.

Okay, so crime shows and detective flicks were much different than real life. On television, you don't have to touch the blood or get your hands all sticky. You also didn't have to smell it, which was probably what was making her stomach turn. However, it was for Ned, so Olive would just have to brave through it. After the second kiss, she'd decided that she would jumped through a flaming hoop of fire while dressed like a poodle if he asked her to do it. Well, maybe that was a bit of exaggeration, but with the idea in her head that Ned and Chuck we're over, she would do anything to hang onto the hope that maybe she now had a chance. It just probably wasn't a good idea to think about that while trying to extract a piece of glass from the pie maker's hand.

"This might hurt a little." Olive quickly pulled the glass from his hand, and covered the wound with a small pad that was soaked in alcohol, much like the ones that doctors used when giving injections. That was something that she was used to, the familiar sting of the alcohol in a fresh wound. When she used to ride horses, she was always getting scraped and scratched, so she of course needed to know how to stop the bleeding. To finish, Olive cleaned up the wound and dressed it, her tiny hand lingering on Ned's.

"Better now?"

[stick me on]

NEDxxxxxxxxx
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXTHE PIE MAKER

How many chills could invade the human body?

Ned knew the answer, he could feel it reverberating down his bones and shivering up his spine. In his toes, in his heart, he knew the answer. The only problem was Ned couldn’t count that high. With Olive’s tiny hands skillfully plucking the glass from his large palm, Ned found that he couldn’t feel the pain. OK. That was a lie. Especially when she used alcohol to disinfect the wound. THAT HURT! So, maybe Ned could feel pain. However, he also felt his heart fluttering away. A heat was beginning to rise in his chest and in his ears. It wasn’t exactly clear which sensation was affecting him more, the heat rising from Olive’s presence or the painful stinging of alcohol against a fresh wound. At this very moment, Ned would have to go with the f’ing pain the Olive was inflicting on him. She was a very attractive and wonderful woman, but nature trumps love, lust, or whatever the hell Ned was currently feeling - apart from the pain, of course. “Owwwww,” Ned whined. He had this tiny widdle tendency to make seem things just a smudge more dramatic and life altering than they really were.

“I think it felt better with the glass stuck in it.” That wasn’t a joke. Ned had an incredibly high threshold when it came to viewing pain, blood, guts, and all the other wonderful things that were associated with dead bodies. However, an omniscient narrator might just point out that Ned, in the kindest of terms, was a p***y. Pain of any sort, emotional or physical, was to be avoided and any and all cost. Unfortunately for Ned, this long and winded avoidance always ended badly. By badly, it is meant that the result was more painful than necessary. “But thank you for that. Your first aid skills might have saved my life.” Ned smiled. He was truly thankful for her company. Olive had a way of turning his frown upside down.

Unfortunately, there were also many things in the world that could turn his smile upside down. One of those things was the shrill ring of Ned’s phone reverberating throughout his apartment. With his incredibly quick ninja reflexes, Ned sprang into action, crossing the room in a few strides. If there was one thing he hated, it was that damn screech of the phone. Was that thing trying to torture him? Regardless of how irritating the sound was, Ned was going to answer the phone anyway. Why couldn’t landlines be like cellphones? Ned would have set a very nice, soothing ringtone instead of a banshee shriek. “Hello?” “NED?! JESUS MAN! Why couldn’t you pick up the phone earlier?!” It was Emerson, and he didn’t sound to happy. A better descriptor would have been freaked out of his mind.

“Get your a** to the morgue. NOW. Guess who just turned up dead?” Ned had absolutely no idea, but he didn’t have to guess. Emerson was just going to tell him anyway. Plus, Emerson wasn’t the sort who engaged in long winded guessing games. Nope. The private investigator was the type that enjoyed k.i.s.s.-ing. Keep it simple stupid. Kiss. “One of those potato mall people is dead. And guessed who killed him?” “Errr - Dale Fields?” “What the hell was the errr for? It was Dale Fields! Anyway, get your a** to the morgue now. We’ve got investigating to do. Don’t bring dead girl or short girl.” With those final words of wisdom, Emerson hung up. The dead tone of the phone whined against Ned’s ear. Dale Fields had just killed. He would kill again. Emerson was next, that much was obvious. Looking to Olive, Ned knew that he wasn’t going to leave her alone when there was a killer on the loose. That was just asking for trouble. Him, Emerson, Olive, and . . . Chuck would have to stick together.

Oh god, Chuck.

Ned had kissed Olive. Ned still didn’t know whether or not he had feelings for Chuck. Why did everything have to be so complicated?! Why couldn’t Ned just get over Chuck completely and run off to become Mr. Snook? If only things could be as strait-forward as death. Touch once, alive again. Touch twice, dead forever. Leave a dead thing alive for more than a minute, something else has to die in its place. Those were the rules. They were spelled out pure and simple, as easy to comprehend as A, B, C. Oh wait. Death wasn’t simple. Death was complicated. When dead things come back to life and stay alive . . . Well, that was never simple.

Ugh. Wasn’t anything in life simple?

Turning to Olive, who was evidently confused, Ned elaborated on the situation. “Dale Fields just killed someone. We’re going to go the morgue. Emerson says that you shouldn’t come, but it’s far to dangerous to leave anyone alone.” There was absolutely no time to waste. Grabbing his apartment and car keys from the little basket thing, Ned opened the door for Olive. He felt like he was going to pass out when she walked pass him. It was official: Ned was falling head over heels for the little waitress. Nothing, not even the laws of physics, could have stopped Ned from falling. Not even Chuck could keep Ned from tumbling over his own feet in his desperate pursuit of Olive. Alright, so it wasn’t really a pursuit.

With his heart in his throat, Ned rapped three times on Chuck’s apartment door. It was technically Olive’s apartment, but Chuck was in there right now. Hopefully Dale Fields hadn’t burst in and murdered her. That wouldn’t have been good. With a sigh of relief (and a sharp intake of nervous breath), Ned saw Chuck’s head poke out from the apartment. She was surprised to see him. Before she could say anything, Ned elaborated on the circumstance. Within a few minutes, the three of them were prattling down the road to the morgue. Olive rode shotgun. It would have been awkward for Chuck to ride in the front, even with the plexiglass divider. (Ned wondered what Olive thought of the divider. It was certainly an odd addition to any vehicle.)

As they entered the morgue, a show stopping woman in a tan trench coat left, the sound of her red heels puncturing the air. Her head was bowed, but she still exuded an air of confidence. She had most likely been a relative of the deceased there to identify the body or to say her goodbyes. “I thought I told you not to bring the pie hos,” Emerson hissed when he saw Chuck and Olive. There was one reason Emerson didn’t like people tagging along, tagger-alongers always meant splitting the reward money. Emerson liked money. Sharing, in his book, wasn’t caring. “There’s a killer on the loose.” “So? They could just lock the door and protect themselves with PMS.”

[annies boobs]

olive snook
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx don't mess with this pie ho!

Olive couldn't help but let out a little giggle as she helped Ned out. She knew it wasn't really right, laughing at another person's pain, but it was really kind of cute. His whining, that is. She had never figured the pie maker to be a sissy, but for some reason, it suited him in this moment. "A little piece of glass isn't going to kill you." She said, smiling when she finally put his hand down. She didn't really want to, but the loud ringing of Ned's phone spoiled any chance of them holding hands there on the couch. She wished she could stay in his apartment for hours, doing nothing but talking to each other. Did he really have to answer? He could just leave it alone. That's what she would have done.

However, Olive soon realized that she was forgetting one very important thing, and that was that Dale Fields was still on the loose. She didn't know much about Ned's personal life, even though she tried very hard to find out every last detail about him, but she did know that a call from Emerson was probably the most important call that he could receive. In fact, they were probably thinking the same thing when he went to pick it up. Not about not wanting to pick it up, or about holding hands, but about Dale Fields. They needed as much information as possible, especially because of what they talked about before. She certainly didn't want him to come after Ned and Chuck just by association with Emerson. And she really didn't want the mass murderer coming after herself! That would completely ruin any chance that she would have with the pie maker! Sensing some kind of danger, probably due simply to women's intuition (or Ned mentioning Fields' name on the phone,) she turned around to watch what was going on behind her.

He had killed again?! That makes a murder and a potato mall fire in the span of just a few hours! Olive could hardly believe that one man could go so far to exact his revenge on just one person. Sure, he'd done it before, but that was to seek revenge on a whole group of people. When Emerson was the only object of his rage, it seemed a lot more scary to her. Who wouldn't be afraid? Olive patiently waited for Ned to get off the phone, trying as hard as she could not to freak out. She kept trying to tell herself it was unlikely that Fields would them, that they would be safe and away from harm. However, she also knew that there were no guarantees in life. There was no guarantee that Ned and Chuck were meant to be together, or that she was meant to be with Ned. Why was she thinking about that?! Ugh, there was more important things at hand.

Like going to the morgue. The next thing Olive knew, they were at Chuck's apartment. And then they were in the car, driving along to the creepiest place in town. Too many emotions were running around inside her, driving her completely insane. Number one. Chuck. How could she be around Chuck? Yes, they were friends. They were living together. But she was also betraying her by kissing her ex boyfriend and falling head over heels in love with him. Well, she'd already been crushing on him, and everyone in the group knew that. But now, it was on a completely new, deeper level. Plus, there was more to the Chuck issue. What if Ned saw one look at her and feel for her all over again, leaving poor Olive out in the dark? Those two had been so strong for so long. He even installed the cute but weird divider in the car so no one would be harmed by touching. That really showed how much he cared. Olive only hoped that if thing, whatever it is, turned into a relationship that the divider would be taken down. People needed to be touched.

Another thing she was experiencing was excitement. They were going to the morgue. Ned said it was for safety, but she knew that they were going to be investigating. And she was going to be a part of the action, at least right alongside Emerson, if she couldn't get him to let her in on things. Finally, she was one of the group. Well, kissing Ned must have meant that she was part of the group. even if the group was a little strained because of the Chuck issue, but still. She was there, in the center of everything, finally in on the secret of what went on in the morgue. She was honestly half expecting a dead person to pop up and say hello, right there on the table!

Finally, after a long, long period of silence, the group had arrived. Emerson was already waiting for them, but he didn't quite seem his normal self. Rather than being red-faced and mean, (well, he was still mean.) he seemed a little...freaked. Olive couldn't blame him. Everyone would be freaked out if a murderer was after them! That's why she wasn't offended at all when he made a comment about the pie hoes. As a matter of fact, it actually brought a smile to her face. calling her a pie ho was including her in something, and that's what she'd always wanted.

"You don't mess with the pie hoes!"

[stick me on]

NEDxxxxxxxxx
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXTHE PIE MAKER

“You certainly don’t. Because once you mess with the pie hos they won’t stop messing with you.” Even when threatened with murder, Emerson Cod was still as sharp as a whip and as friendly as a cat dropped into an ocean. Ned thought that the state of affairs only exasperated Emerson’s grouchy disposition, instead of turning the investigator into a sniveling kitten. There was no doubt, Emerson was a coward. However, he managed to pull off cowardice in a manly sort of way. How do you keep yourself from being murdered? To that question Emerson would answer, “you catch the killer and collect the big a** reward.” “I told you not to bring anyone else along,” Emerson hissed underneath his breath. The logic behind that was the girls would be a hinderance as apposed to a help. If Olive was six foot tall and butch, Emerson would not have objected to her presence. Unfortunately, the two girls were dainty and delicate. There was no way that either of them could protect Emerson when things got nasty. “Shouldn’t we go examine the body?” Ned asked innocently, trying to skirt Emerson from the topic of Olive’s presence. He was also trying to get away from Olive. There was something about her that was making him go cocco for coco puffs. With Chuck’s presence, Ned couldn’t help but feel guilty.

At the same time Ned felt guilty for stringing Olive along. He had kissed for for heaven’s sake! Yet, Olive was the only one that wasn’t allowed in the room when Ned did his ‘investigating’. Olive didn’t know his secret - thank God. She had come pretty close, Ned feared, to figuring out how the dead daisies and Ned’s hands connected. “OK, so go investigate away,” Emerson said, snapping Ned out of his day dreaming by shoving him into the examination room. Chuck, like a sly little ninja, slipped into the examination room. Emerson blocked the entrance with his bulky frame, looking at Olive incredulously. “And you’re still here - why?” With those last words, Emerson shut the door in Olive’s face. There was no way in hell that little shrimp was getting into the examination room. Ned just stood there, his arms folded behind his back, kinda wishing that they could let Olive into the room, and thus into the circle of trust. “What are you doing, moping around. Get to it. CHOP. CHOP.” With a crinkle of his nose, Ned pulled back the tarp covering the dead body.

Ugh. What a sight for sore eyes. Ned would rather be looking at Olive. The man who lay on the table had been sliced up - no, peeled - by what looked like a hundred vicious strokes from a potato peeler. It was disgusting. But work was work. Setting his watch, Ned touched the corpse once.

It remained still.

“Did you touch him yet? Why isn’t he coming to life?” Ned was asking the same question. With a sharp poke, Ned tapped the man again. Nothing. Another touch. Nothing. A different spot. Still nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. WHAT THE HELL?! “Oh hell no. Ned-” “I never met this man, I didn’t touch -” “Oh my God!” Chuck exclaimed, her hands flying to her mouth. She knew why Ned’s touch wasn’t working. “That woman! That woman who left the morgue! She must have been - ”

Yes! That was it! That was why! That woman was the cause behind this. Ned didn’t know why; he didn’t know how. All he had was a small irking feeling that the woman in the tan overcoat and red heels had something to do with it. Opening the door with a dramatic bang to reveal a startled Olive, Ned’s mind was racing at a hundred miles an hour. “We’ve gotta catch that woman.”

[annies boobs]

olive snook
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx don't mess with this pie ho!

It only took a moment for Olive's hopes to be shot down, her happiness flying away on little pigeon wings. She was so stupid! Of course Emerson wasn't going to let her into the exam room! Ned, maybe even Chuck might have let her into the action, but the private investigator made it quite clear that only the three musketeers were going to be working on this case. She sighed to herself, sitting down once the door was slammed into her face. Quite harshly, she might add. She had been rejected before, but it had never been quite so...mean. So, as always, she could only sit in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, thinking about what was going on inside. Then, something strange occurred to her. In all the times she'd visited the morgue, the gang only took about a minute to exam the body, maybe a little more. For the first time, it just didn't make sense. To really get a look at things, they would have to spend an hour in there. At least! Instead, they never even spent enough time in there for her to get a word in with man sitting behind the desk.

"Not one for the blood and gore?"

It was the man behind the desk, looking at her. For once. Normally, he was glued to the portable radio that he always kept on his desk. Olive really didn't feel like talking to him, since the depression of being shot down again was still seeping into her, but she supposed she may as well. Her situation wasn't going to get any better. "What happened to the guy in there?" The guy seemed to smile at her, like some sick person who enjoyed tales of blood and gore. Like those people who go to the movies just to watch the horror flicks. How anyone could be so fascinated with blood and guts, she didn't know. "The murderer took his time with this one. Took a potato peeler to him, over and over and over."

"Ew! The petite wannabe private investigator couldn't help but scrunch her nose in disgust. Now that she thought about it, she probably wasn't cut out for the job. She wouldn't want to be in the same room with someone who was just scraped to death by a cooking instrument. Not to mention the fact that there were probably worse cases out there than this one! Still, she had it in her mind that she was going to do what Emerson does. Someday. Blood or not, she was going to solve at least one case all by herself! "Here you are, ma'am. I knew you'd be back for it."

Olive turned once again to the sound of the morgue man's voice, only this time, it wasn't directed at her. As she was lost in thought, she had completely failed to to notice a woman in a brown trench coat and long heels enter the room. For a few seconds, she couldn't help but to stare. The woman, who looked as close to a real life detective from one of her old movies as she had ever seen, was unbelievably beautiful and glamorous. She had curled blond hair that fell to her shoulders and sparkling blue eyes that Olive could get lost in. But what was she doing, returning here? Oh, right! She had forgotten something. At least, that's what the man said. And before Olive could register what had happened, the woman had retrieved the item she'd left (it was a black purse) and left, but not before smiling at the petite blond who was sitting on one of the chairs. She wished for a moment that the woman would stay, so that the two of them could talk for a while. Olive would love to meet another private eye, especially one a bit nicer than Emerson.

Speaking of Emerson...

The door to the morgue flew open with a loud bang, revealing Emerson, Chuck, and Ned on the other side. Apparently, something was upsetting them because they all were speaking with great urgency. "What woman? Why do you-?"

"The woman in the trench coat!" Wow, Emerson seemed even more freaked than he did before!

"She went that way." Olive pointed toward the door.