“Genie,” Paul announced, his voice breaking with emotion. His heart was thumping so hard he feared it might tear from his chest and streak across the terminal into the money exchange booth.

“What possessed you to pack that awful frilly shirt?” Gina replied, trying to be humorous when all she really wanted to do was hold him as tight as she could and never let go.

“What?” Paul breathed, not expecting to be scorned about his choice of clothing.

“Amy decided to give me your bag in some attempt at a threat,” Gina mused. “Which again shows how little she knows about the art of kidnapping because your scalpel, that I’m not entirely sure how you got through customs, came in very handy to cut the ropes that were binding me.”

“They tied you up?” he gasped clenching his free hand. “I’ll fucking eviscerate Greg and Dan for this.”

“Oh hon, they weren’t to know Amy had a bathroom fetish,” she sighed. “Or no qualms about killing innocent bystanders.”

“What innocent bystanders?”

She felt her chest tighten as the image of Wazza slumped to the floor swam back into her mind. “This guy, Wazza, he kinda helped me out when I tried to flee. She shot him, right in the chest, she just shot him.”

His hand covered his mouth and he was speechless a moment. “Are you ok? Where are you now?” he asked quickly, not wanting to broach the subject of possible dead people again.

“Other than feeling a tad lightheaded, the usual bumps and bruises and an ankle that’s swollen up to the size of a baseball, I’m pretty much only traumatically scarred,” she replied, pausing to hear footsteps outside the door and lowered her voice. “I’m not entirely sure where I am. The middle of nowhere in a run down hotel, but I’m pretty sure I’m on the way to Gina and that we’ve crossed into South Australia.”

“That’s too far away,” Paul declared, sounding desperate. “We’re all at fucking Heathrow, but I swear I’m getting on the next plane back home.”

“Oh,” Gina swallowed. It was exactly what she wanted to hear, but Amy’s threats were still ringing in her ears. “Please be careful. Amy’s set this up as a trap, and this is exactly what she wants, you guys to come after me.”

“Babe, I’ve put off once coming back to you, and look what happened,” he groused. “I don’t give a fuck what that stupid fucking Yank thinks she has planned. Nothing is going to stop me being with you.” He looked at Danny, Fenny and Greg vehemently. “Nothing.”

“I’m so scared,” she breathed as she started to choke up. The footsteps returning outside the door.

“I’m scared too,” he replied in a whisper, his back turned a little from the others.

“I have to go,” she said quickly. “I love you so much, don’t you dare do anything stupid.”

“No, don’t go,” Paul yelped and was greeted with silence. “Genie, no,” he looked helplessly at the phone and used his free hand to rub his eyes with his palm. Fenny broke away from the others and walked over to him.

“You alright?” she asked, resting a hand on his arm. She could feel he was shaking ever so slightly. He looked at her and shook his head and Fenny gently wrapped him up in a hug.

“So what’s the next step in the grand plan?” Brad asked as he joined Ritza and Beven for breakfast. He adjusted his tights before he sat down and looked at them both expectantly.

“Well, if I know Claudia, and believe me when I say that I KNOW Claudia,” Beven declared somewhat bitterly. Ritza felt a huff forming as she knew exactly how well he knew the brothel madam. “She’ll have the hired help out looking for us as we speak.”

“I’ll kill her if you want,” Ritza offered bluntly. “No really, I’ll go do it now.”

Beven looked at her strangely. “Yeah, I’m thinking that’s not really appropriate behaviour for a mother.”

“I see it as cleaning up the planet for my son,” she countered and took a long drink of her strong coffee.

“Is something wrong?” Beven asked, looking at her blankly. “I mean last night we discussed how do things in a more PC fashion.”

“And today I’m baying for blood,” she shrugged. “A woman can change her mind can’t she?”

“This is just sad,” Brad sighed. “On a lighter note, should one of us call Fen and let her know where we are?”

“Why Fen?” Ritza asked curiously. “Why not Gina?”

“Fine, shall we call someone and let them know that we’re all safe and well and not hanging by our entrails from the pines in Sherwood fucking Forest,” Brad groused, raising an eyebrow.

“Great idea sweet stuff,” Beven agreed. “I’ll go find a pay phone.” He quickly got up and left the room. He stepped out into the brisk British morning and saw a phone box across the road, He breathed a sigh of relief, glad to escape the rather strange moods his companions were currently exuding.

The one advantage Heathrow had above a lot of airports was that it was so damn big it was easy to find an airport lounge to curl up on. After trekking to terminal 28, the only terminal that has a flight to Australia that day, Paul had managed, in his emotionally drained, jet-lagged state, to fall asleep, Troy wrapped tightly in his arms. Fenny, her legs curled under her, had sat herself on the seat next to the three he was using and had taken to mothering him. Every time he got restless, she’d gently stroke his hair and he’d go back to a peaceful sleep. Greg was opposite her sprawled across several seats and was snoring softly, while Danny stayed alert and went in search of as much information on flights back to Australia as he could.

Fenny felt her eyes grow heavy and the world was beginning to turn black when the familiar tinny sound of her ringtone jolted her back to reality. Paul hadn’t let go of the phone after Gina had called and only now had it slipped from his fingers to the floor. She leaned over and picked it up. The number was unfamiliar, and she swallowed before answering.

“Hello.”

“First rule of answering the phone,” Beven chided. “Don’t. Let it go to the message bank.”

“Beven!” she gasped, trying not to be too loud and wake Paul. “Where the hell are you?”

“A small seaside town,” he replied. “Where are you?”

“Heathrow, Well, we’re all at here minus Gina.”

“Why? Where is she?”

“Australia. Greg and Dan managed to lose her.”

“Fantastic,” he sighed as he leaned against the glass wall of the phone booth. “Do you know if she’s all right?”

“I think so, which is more than we can say about her husband.”

“And you? You’re ok?”

“Surprisingly yes,” Fenny chided and then went slightly sheepish. “How’s Brad?”

“Fine if not a bit wet behind the ears.”

“Oh thank god,” Fenny breathed. “I’ve been so worried. I mean last time all I heard were gun shots…”

“Yeah, that’s how we lost the phone,” Beven mused. “I’m in a booth.”

“But Brad’s ok, right?”

“Yes Fenella, young Bradley is just fine.”

“Right. Oh, and Ritza,” she added not wanting him to think she was solely interested in Brad’s welfare.

“Baying for blood,” he huffed. “I think I did something wrong, but being a guy I have no idea what it was.”

“And Ritza cares why?”

He coughed. “No idea, she’s clearly mad.”

“Right,” she agreed unconvinced. “So did you want to meet up?”

“Please, I might do something drastic if I’m stuck with the other two,” Beven groused. “I suggest you stay where you are, you’ll be pretty safe in the middle of Heathrow.”

“Gina got taken from the terminal in Sydney,” Fenny said matter-of-factly. “So it’s not as safe as you think.”

Beven snorted. “As I was saying, stay where you are and we’ll come to you.”

“Yes Mr Large Threatening Type Man, sir,” Fenny chided and heard Beven chuckle.

“I better go, I’ll tell sweet stuff you were asking for him.”

“What? No!” Fenny yelped but was greeted by the dial tone. Great, now Brad was going to think she was seriously obsessive and desperate and even if she was, it wasn’t the point.

Fenny slipped the phone back between Paul and Troy and decided the only thing left to do was get some sleep.

Gina had managed to safely store Paul’s bag under the bed before Amy marched into the room.

“Well,” she announced, crossing her arms and glaring at Gina who was now rope-less and sporting her husband’s frilly shirt.

“Well what?” Gina asked as she sat on the bed rubbing her ankle.

“Are you convinced I’m serious yet?” Amy demanded, and Gina cocked her head to the side.

“Not really,” Gina mused. “I mean I got out of my ropes awhile ago, and giving me Pauly’s stuff just made me happy.”

The frown lines on Amy’s forehead deepened. “I wish to hell I could kill you now!”

“So why don’t you?” Gina sighed, getting rather bored of Amy’s feeble, empty threats.

“Because Don wouldn’t have wanted it any other way,” Amy groused. “And because I like to watch people suffer.”

“Yeah, but technically there’ll be a much larger group of us than just you and a couple of cronies, and we’ll probably — no sorry — we’ll definitely kick your scrawny American arse.”

Amy laughed. “And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Hello, got out of my binds,” Gina sarced. “You’ve never done the whole kidnapping thing before, have you dear?”

“And you’re an expert?” Amy chided, uncrossing her arms and putting them on her hips. “If you remember, I got away from you.”

“No, you got away from Proops, which is expected,” Gina countered. “Me, I was the one who hit you.”

Amy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re too cocky for your own good.”

“I like to think of myself as well-versed,” Gina smiled as she sat on the edge of the bed. “For instance, shall I teach your rule one of kidnapping?”

“Oh please, entertain me,” Amy sneered as Gina managed to get to her feet.

“Rule one, never confront the victim unarmed,” Gina perked and Amy looked at her bemused.

“Why?”

“Because nine times outta ten, she is,” Gina grinned and produced a full bottle of tequila from behind her back. She darted forward and cracked it over Amy’s head. The American yelped and crashed to the floor in a pile of glass and booze. “Sorry Paul, I’ll buy you another one.” she breathed and hobbled back to the bed where she lay down. Gina was too injured to go anywhere, so the least she could do was have a quiet night without being annoyed by Amy.

The lackeys heard the shattering glass and appeared half a second later at the door, where they glared at Gina. “I think she slipped,” she mused and started plotting rule two mischievously.

Beven returned to the dining area of the B&B and looked from Ritza who was clearly moping, with her head in her hands, to Brad who looked positively pissed off. “Why are all women so hormonal,” he groused, crossing his arms.

“I’m not a woman,” Brad huffed, finishing his coffee.

“You just keep telling yourself that, sweet stuff,” Beven sighed. “If either of you two cheery folk are interested, we’re heading toward Heathrow.”

“Why?” Ritza asked, unimpressed. “The adventure over, is it?”

“No, but everyone minus Gina is there, and I think it’s time we had a group meeting,” Beven countered.

“Where’s Gina?” Brad asked curiously. “Surely she can’t be more than two feet from McDermott?”

“Proops and Brannigan managed to lose her to Amy back in Oz.”

“Oh fantastic,” Brad groaned. “The only person with a rational mind is on another fucking continent.”

“Thanks man,” Beven sighed. “Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the lovely Fenella is asking for you, been worrying herself into a neurotic frenzy.”

“Really?” Brad asked, trying not look slightly eager that she was concerned for him. “Why would she worry?”

“Well, I’m thinking that she was imagining you having been shot through the head, but I’m only guessing.”

“Oh,” Brad said sheepishly and looked cagily at Ritza who was still moping.

“So how are we getting to Heathrow?” she asked bluntly. “Flying carpet? Broomstick? Back of an ass?” the word ‘ass’ was emphasised as she glared at Beven.

“I was thinking we’d just rent a car, but if you can find a donkey…” Beven chided and Ritza let out a huff and stormed out of the room.

“Now look what you’ve done, big guy!” Brad scorned shaking his head. Beven looked back at him blankly and wished someone would point out if not just give him a few pointers to what it was he’d done.

Danny leaned against the window of a souvenir shop as he sipped his styrofoam cup of coffee. He glanced around at the hundreds if not thousands of people who were passing through the airport and started to feel very private detective. He was pleased no one henchman or -woman-like had put in an appearance, and was starting to feel like he should join the others for a rest. The only problem was he couldn’t deal with seeing Fenny or the pain Paul was going through, and was generally sick of Greg. He let out a heavy sigh, finished the rather unsatisfactory coffee and headed to where the others were. Danny dropped his empty coffee cup in the bin and took the only available seat, which was next to Fenny. He stretched his legs out, folded his hands over his stomach and tried to relax. The problem was he couldn’t; every noise made him flinch, every walkie talkie made his ears prick up, and to top it off Paul let out a snort and woke up.

“You all right mate?” Danny asked even though by Paul’s haggard look it was quite obvious he wasn’t.

“Has she called?” he asked, blearily looking at the phone.

“No, but Beven did and he, Ritza and Brad are on their way,” Danny nodded. “They’re all safe.”

“Hurrah,” Paul said bitterly, rubbing his eyes. “How many hours to the flight?”

“Six,” Danny breathed as he became distracted by Fenny’s nose twitching. He cursed himself for finding it cute and looked back at Paul. “You want anything? Something to eat?”

“I couldn’t eat,” Paul winced and Danny honestly believed that Paul might gag if he tried.

“What about a tea, mate?” Danny offered and Paul nodded half-heartedly. Danny got to his feet, forgoing sleep again, and went in search of a cup of tea for Paul. He didn’t mind too much — at least it was a distraction from everything that was wrong with his life, namely finding tea for someone whose wife had been kidnapped.

Gina stared at the shabby hotel ceiling, transfixed by the fan and contemplating the fact that some doped up loon had drawn spirals on it to amuse themselves. Amy’s limp body had been removed from her room, and Gina had systematically cleaned up the glass and was rather annoyed by the stubborn tequila mixed with blood stain on the carpet. But aside from that, things weren’t too bad. She leaned over the side of the bed and removed Paul’s bag, which she dropped onto the bed in front of her. Gina had never really taken much of an interest in what Paul took with him when he went away, he just brought her back the washing. She was already planning to inquire about why his clean underwear looked untouched and why he was stashing tequila in his bag. On the upside though, his sketch book yielded a virtual treasure trove of insights into the working of his mind. Amidst the strange freaky figures and sketches of the hotel wallpaper for god knows what reason, there were a couple of nudes, of her, from memory and one of Troy posing with a plastic flower in his mouth.

She put the sketch book back into the bag and felt around some more. Her fingers found a zipped pocket which she opened and shoved her hand into. Her fingers touched the familiar glossy feel of photographs, and she quickly pulled them out. A gasp caught in her throat when she discovered they were photos of her and Paul, significant photos that she had no idea he carried around. The first was of them snogging against a tree that Mikey had taken years ago, their first photo together. The second was a wedding photograph where they were smiling like fools and holding on to each other for dear life. The third was from the final GNW when she’d turned up to be supportive. Things hadn’t been going well then, they’d been barely talking. It had never occurred to her how happy he looked in the photo even though they were just standing next to each other. Fourth and finally was a photo of her. Not a glamorous shot or anything, just a photo of her sitting on the couch with Lewis curled in her lap. Gina had always hated it, but Paul had been adamant that it was his favourite photo. She let out a long sigh and realised she was crying. She shoved the photos back into the zipped pocket and replaced Paul’s bag to its spot under her bed. His phone was still nestled safely under her pillow and she gingerly removed it from its hiding place. She gripped it tightly as she stared at the swirls on the ceiling fan and listened for any of her new friends who might be lurking about.

“Don’t move or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

Fenny’s eyes sprung open, her heart thumped, and there was the feeling of something digging into the side of her head. “Oh crap.”

“You’re lucky I’m not serious,” Beven grinned, passing her her glasses. Fenny pushed them on quickly and glared at him.

“I feel so relieved,” she remarked sarcastically and looked across the lounge as Brad, who was dressed rather obscurely, plonked himself on top of Greg.

“What the fuck…” Greg snorted. “Sherwood!”

“I’ve never told you this before Greg, but you make a fantastic beanbag,” Brad chided and Greg shoved him.

“What did you come dressed as, dude?”

“It’s my bohemian merry man look,” Brad perked, getting to his feet and doing a little turn. “Do you like it?”

“No,” Greg replied bluntly, rubbing his eyes and readjusting his glasses.

“How was the traffic?” Danny piped up as he felt the need to join in.

“Not bad,” Ritza shrugged. “Although being stuck with those two is another thing all together.”

“And you’ve just been a barrel of laughs,” Beven groused, shaking his head as Paul woke and gave a look that said everything was just too much at that particular moment. “Oh hello, it awakes.”

“Has she called?” Paul asked weakly.

“You’re so hopeless,” Greg sighed. “You’ve got the fucking phone, if she calls you’ll be first to know.”

“Fuck off Proops, when was the last time you called your wife,” Paul sneered, checking the voice mail just in case. Greg curled his lip and sunk back into his chair.

“Fen, you got any money on you?” Beven asked, shaking his head at both Greg and Paul.

“Why?” Fenny queried, not wanting to give an affirmative answer until she was told what he had planned.

“Because Sherwood needs some bloody clothes. Look at him, he’s a travesty,” Beven teased, and Brad childishly poked out his tongue.

“Well, I do but…”

“Fantastic, off you kids go,” Beven grinned, and since no one was ever game enough to question him, she reluctantly got to her feet and headed toward a row of shops with Brad hurrying to catch up with her.

They walked in silence until they approached a men’s clothing store and then both spoke at once.

“Brad.”

“Fen.”

“Oh you go first.”

“No, ladies first, you go.”

Fenny winced. “Ok, um, I’m glad you’re ok and not shot to pieces or anything.”

“Thanks,” Brad replied wryly and picked up a knitted sweater vest. “What do you think?”

“With those green tights, no,” she chided. “Which reminds me,” she added and brushed past him into the store. She disappeared into an aisle and returned a second later with a pair of grey cotton boxers on a ridiculously small hanger. “I’m assuming you need these.”

“My scrotum thanks you,” he smiled and she wished (a) he hadn’t smiled and (b) he hadn’t mentioned his scrotum.

“So, how’s Lilly?” she asked after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence.

“Pissed I imagine,” he shrugged. “She and her mother aren’t getting along.”

“She’s four! How can they not get along?” she gasped as she made him put back a maroon t-shirt.

“Because she’s decided that you’re her Mom,” Brad shrugged. “Ella is just hopeless with glitter glue.”

“Oh,” she blushed as they both reached for the same navy jumper. She pulled her hand back quickly. “I’m glad, I miss being her Mom.”

“Fen,” he breathed and opened his mouth to say something which Fenny was hoping was ‘I miss you’ but was interrupted by Ritza.

“Can we have a word,” she smiled sweetly and grabbed Fenny’s arm.

“Well since you’re the one here that can kill people, the answer would be yes,” Fenny chided. “I’ll be right back,” she added and Brad laughed as Ritza dragged Fenny into the nearest bathroom.

“Just so we have this clear, I hate you,” Fenny pouted and crossed her arms.

“Oh please, he loves you, you’ve nothing to worry about,” Ritza huffed. “Did Claudia ever mention Beven?”

“What?” Fenny gasped, having no idea what Ritza was on about.

“Claudia, you’ve spent time with her…”

“I don’t call being whored ‘spending time’.”

“Whatever, did she mention him?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I’m pretty sure she was more interested in Paul actually.”

“So no mention of Beven?”

“No,” Fenny said exasperated. “Why do you care so much, anyway?”

Ritza fumbled a moment. “Just curious.”

Fenny narrowed her eyes then gasped. “Oh my god, you fancy him!”

“Yes, ok, and I think he fancies me,” Ritza blushed. “But apparently he knows Claudia.”

“And you think that means they’re old fuck buddies?”

Ritza looked startled. “Did you just say fuck buddies?”

“It’s been a long day, ok?” Fenny groused. “I suggest, Ms Crispin, that you actually go and ask Beven what he means before getting your thong in a knot.”

“How do you know I wear a thong?” Fenny cocked her head to the side. “Oh, right…”

“Are you finished?” Fenny asked. “Or is there something else?”

“Do you think Beven and I are suited?” Ritza asked curiously.

Fenny furrowed her brow. “Oh Ritz, there are no other people better suited for each other than you two,” she mused and hurried back out of the bathroom.

She made her way back into the shop and glanced around for Brad, and was slightly upset that he didn’t seem to be about.

“Fen!” his familiar voice called and she saw his head poking out of a change room. She hurried over and he pulled back the curtain. Her lips curled into a smile as he did a few silly poses in a pair of well fitting jeans and the navy jumper they’d been looking at.

“Whaddya think?” he asked, grinning.

“Much better than green tights,” she nodded and wanted to add ‘would you be offended if I kissed your neck,’ but refrained.

“I found some sneakers too, if that’s ok,” Brad enthused. “I just think running shoes are important.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Fenny breathed, finding it increasingly hard to draw her eyes away from him. “I’ll go pay,” she added, and forced herself over to the counter. The man who took her credit card seemed amused that Brad would want to wear everything, including the underwear but refrained from questioning her.

They left the shop a few minutes later, Brad depositing his tights and getaway clothes in the nearest bin.

“So, do you want anything else?” Fenny asked, wondering if he might be hungry or in need of a cheap paperback.

“Well, after being kidnapped, drugged, forced to wear tights, attacked by a bull, shot at and driven into the ocean, there is one things I could really do with,” Brad breathed, nodding slowly.

“So long as you know you’re paying me back for all this, name away,” she chided and he smiled warmly.

“I could really do with a hug,” he declared, and Fenny looked blankly at him.

“Oh,” she swallowed and gingerly moved toward him. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the jumper and she shivered as his arms encircled her and pulled her into the fabric of his new clothes. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, not just the new clothes, but the sweat and the salty air that was lingering on his skin. She felt so safe and warm in his arms that she didn’t ever want to move. His fingers gently stroked her hair as he buried his face into her shoulder. “I was so worried about you,” she whispered.

“I know,” Brad replied in a barely audible. “I was hoping you were.”

“QANTAS FLIGHT 97 TO SYDNEY IS NOW READY FOR BOARDING,” suddenly boomed over the loudspeaker.

“That’s our flight,” Fenny breathed pulling away from Brad. They walked back to the others in silence.

“So now what happens?” Danny asked, ignoring the fact Fenny and Brad had just been hugging.

“You go to Australia,” Beven declared handing Brad a ticket. “You go with your friends.”

“What about you?” Brad asked, feeling like he was missing something.

“Ritza and I are staying here to deal with Claudia,” Beven said sternly. “Then we’ll join you in Australia.”

“Are you sure? I mean I’ll stay if you want me to,” Brad offered, almost begging Beven to come with them.

“You have more important things to do,” Beven insisted and glanced at Fenny. “Besides it’ll be quicker without you.”

Brad nodded. “Be careful, yeah?”

“Somehow I don’t think Ritz would ever forgive me if I was anything less,” he mused just out of Ritza’s earshot.

“Come on, we’ve gotta get on the plane man,” Greg piped up, leading the way toward the departure gates.

“Come on McDermott, we’re going to find your wife,” Danny chided as Paul got to his feet, still looking defeated.

“I thought she might have called again, y’know,” he sighed miserably and headed toward the departure gates with Danny.

“See ya buddy,” Brad breathed, shaking Beven’s hand before they fell into a blokey hug.

“Such a girl,” Beven muttered, but was touched none the less.

Brad gave Ritza a quick hug and then hurried to catch up to Fenny and they walked through the gates together, leaving Beven and Ritza to do god only knows what.

The five had wearily found their seats on the plane and Troy was safely in the overhead locker when Fenny’s ears pricked up.

“Paul, the phone!” she gasped.

Paul, who was sitting by the window, jumped out of his seat and fished the phone out from his pocket. “Genie?”

“I destroyed your tequila,” Gina replied tearfully.

“What tequila?”

“That stuff that was in your bag. I kinda hit Amy with it.”

“Babe I don’t care about the fucking tequila.”

“CAN WE HAVE THAT IN WRITING?” Greg piped up from behind Paul and Gina giggled through her tears.

“How are things in London?”

“Who cares, we’re on the plane about to take off.”

“Shouldn’t you hang up then?”

“Tell me your ok, that you’ll be fine until I get there.”

“Until WE get there,” Fenny chided.

“Hon I’m fine and I’ll be even better when you get here.”

A wave of relief seemed to wash across Paul’s face as the plane started to taxi to the runway. “Fuck, I have to go.”

“Omnia vincit amor,” she declared quickly.

“Omnia vincit amor babe,” Paul smiled and quickly turned off the phone before the flight attendants could yell at him.