Greg woke in a tangled heap of sheets, pillows and limbs, and almost wished he had a hangover. He frowned as he remembered going down to the bar to forget Gina’s coldness towards him only to get in one shot of brandy before the lights went out and everyone was sent back to their rooms with pathetic little tea-lights.

Maybe he should go find Gina, see if she’d warmed up to him at all during the night. Then Greg realized he wasn’t sure which room was hers, and decided it was better not to risk witnessing one of Brad and Fenny’s shagging festivals or Paul in his underwear and figured breakfast was a better plan.

With a tired grunt, he pulled himself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Instead, he let out an agonized yelp and collapsed back on the bed. “Damn car,” he cursed as he tightened the bandage that bound his nearly-forgotten sprained ankle.

Fenny’s eyes fluttered open and she immediately closed them against the powerful sunlight that poured into the room. She rolled over with a groan and squinted her eyes at the image of Brad struggling to get his shirt on. “Need some help?” she asked sleepily.

“No,” he snapped.

The memories of the previous night flooded back and she leaned back to retrieve her glasses. “Fine,” she huffed, wrapping herself in the sheet and gathering her clothes from the floor. Brad scowled at her as she stomped past him into the bathroom, the bed sheet trailing ridiculously behind her, and the door slammed. “Frigid, huh?” she murmured to herself. “I’m a fucking ice queen.” Fenny turned on the water in the sink and washed her face, pausing to investigate the gash in her cheek. “Never should’ve given that pig what he wanted last night…”

Gina stroked Paul’s face as they lay together under the sheets. He looked significantly better than he had yesterday. His eye, while still quite black, was no longer swollen, and his lip seemed to have healed rather well, not that she had been very helpful in that happening. She smiled to herself at the thought.

She glanced at the clock perched on the table behind him. It was almost 8:30. As much as she wanted to let him sleep, Gina figured they needed to get going if they were going to make it to the next planned stop at a reasonable hour. Gently, she put her hand on his shoulder and shook him. “Paul,” she cooed. “Paul, c’mon, we need to get up.”

“Hmmm?” he moaned, stretching out along the bed.

“Morning,” she said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

Paul’s eyes opened and he looked up at her, his face breaking into a smile. “Morning,” he said, and leaned in for a sweet, soft kiss.

“You seem to be feeling better,” she said coyly as they pulled apart.

“How could I wake up in bed with a beautiful woman and not feel wonderful?”

“Well, considering someone tried to kill you a couple days ago, and yesterday you wanted to die…”

“Sex,” Paul mused, “the universal healer.”

“Aah, I never knew.” She watched carefully as he sat up, gingerly poking at various bruises and testing out various muscles. He winced as he adjusted the bandages across his torso, but seemed to pass inspection, and both set about to get dressed.

“How’re you feeling?” Paul asked.

“Fantastic,” Gina replied. He got up and limped towards the bathroom. “I’m gonna go make sure Fen and Brad and Greg are up,” she announced, “see if we can get breakfast over and done with so we can head out again.”

“You’re not anxious to get home, are you?” Paul teased.

“Go take a shower,” she commanded and slipped into the corridor. The previous night she’d seen Paul go into the room next to hers and Greg, who she wasn’t ready to deal with yet, into the room across the hall, so she went to the caddie-corner room and knocked, hoping she wasn’t interrupting something. Brad opened the door looking somehow upset, but Gina was too absorbed in her fluffy pink cloud to pay him much heed. “Wake up call,” she chimed.

“Thanks,” he huffed. “We’ll be down soon.”

“Good, I wanna get back on the road,” Gina announced. “See you in a few.”

Brad sneered at her as she turned away and shut the door. He sat himself on the bed and stared at the bathroom door, waiting for it to open. The longer he waited, the more he began to seethe. After a few minutes, Fenny came out looking cool, collected, and well put together. “What the hell is your problem?” Brad demanded.

“My problem?” Fenny asked, trying to stay calm. “You’re the one screaming.”

“This better not be about last night,” he said menacingly.

“Why can’t it be about last night?” she countered.

“I thought you’d forgiven me for that.”

“Yeah, well I haven’t.”

“Oh come on, Fen, I didn’t mean it,” he said, reaching for her. She jerked away from him. “What’s wrong?”

“Let’s get down to breakfast,” Fenny said as she began scouring the room for her sneakers.

“I wanna talk about this,” Brad said fiercely, grabbing her by the arm. “Now.”

“Well I don’t,” she growled. “I am, after all, a frigid, emotionless receptacle, right? I’m only good for when you wanna get laid.”

“What?” Brad gasped.

“I’m worried about your health and just ‘cause I don’t wanna have sex—you think the only way I have to show you that I love you—” She was getting flustered again and couldn’t think coherently. “This relationship is just sex to you, isn’t it?” she demanded after taking a breath.

“Of course it isn’t,” Brad barked, sounding more than a bit offended. “You don’t honestly think that’s how I feel, do you?”

“Well what the hell am I supposed to think?” Fenny shrieked, avoiding eye contact and struggling with her shoes. “Every spare minute we’ve had since we got together here has been spent in bed. I was worried about you because you could’ve been killed, and you called me frigid, made it sound like I didn’t love you because I didn’t want to fuck.”

“You know I love you,” Brad said softly.

“Yeah, until I won’t put out,” she murmured.

“Fen, I chased a couple of psychotics across the continent, heedless of my own safety, to save your ass, and you think I don’t love you?”

“You know, Paul was trying to save my ass too, and I hardly know him.”

Brad heaved a sigh. “What can I do? I wouldn’t think I’d have to prove that I love you.”

“Yeah, well showing it from time to time would be nice.”

“I thought that’s what I’ve been doing!”

“Yeah, well so did I,” she snapped and left the room.

“Hey Gina,” Greg chimed as she came into the small restaurant. “Paul,” he continued less enthusiastically as he appeared.

“So, what’s for breakfast, Speccy?” Gina asked as she sat at the table with Paul.

“Don’t bother,” Greg said. “Power outtage last night destroyed most of their stuff. No milk, no eggs. Coffee though.” To illustrate his point he took a gulp from his mug.

“No milkshake for Genie this morning,” Paul said, nudging her arm.

“Kinda had my heart set on an omelette,” Gina sighed.

“From what I understand there’s toast and fruit.”

“Low cholesterol, high fibre, good for you meal, huh?” Paul sighed. “Yuck, where’s the fun in that?”

“I don’t really mind what we eat,” Gina said. “What do you think’s keeping Fen and Brad?”

“Do you really want the answer to that question?” Greg jeered.

“No, I told them to come down,” Gina explained, “Brad was fully clothed.”

“Which means what to them?” Paul asked.

“You people are so terrible,” Gina laughed.

“Aah, there she is,” Greg chimed as Fenny entered the room.

“Where’s your dearest Bradleykins?” Gina asked. “Thought you’d still be draped over his arm. The good one, anyway.”

“In the shower, or something,” she said, sitting next to Paul. “Did I miss breakfast?”

“There’s not much to be had, evidently,” Paul shrugged. “All the perishables perished.”

“Is there not a store around or something?”

“Laziness,” Greg said, shaking his head. “There’s fruit and toast. Or fruit on toast. Toast on fruit maybe?”

Fenny shrugged; she wasn’t particularly hungry, but she was dying for a strong cup of tea. “Well, everyone’s looking better this morning,” she mused, trying to clear her mind from the scene in her room.

“Everyone but you,” Greg said. “Something wrong?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Fenny lied.

“I’ll bet you couldn’t,” Paul laughed, eyebrows raised.

“My cheek hurt,” she explained.

“Uh huh,” Paul murmured as the waitress appeared. Greg and Gina glanced at Fenny worriedly and turned their attention back to the waitress.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Maybe we should wait for Brad,” Greg suggested.

“I’m hungry,” Gina declared. “Fen can order for him, right?”

“Yeah,” Fenny breathed, wondering if ordering him a soul would be taken the wrong way.

Brad sat, dumbfounded, on the end of the bed. How could Fenny say that? He’d done nothing but fight for her since she showed up in Los Angeles practically a year ago. He’d scared his body for her, for fuck’s sake, first with the tattoo, then with a bullet that was four inches from fatal. He was almost ready to call her ungrateful, all the things he had done for her, and now she was claiming he didn’t love her? All he’d wanted was to be treated like an adult without being babied or coddled because of his injury, and she’d flown off the handle and jumped to all the wrong conclusions. If she was so mad at him, why’d she go and have sex with him anyway? That seemed a bit hypocritical. Brad started pacing the room, deciding not to venture down for breakfast.

“Are we all set to go?” Gina asked as everyone had finished their breakfast and the last of the tea had been drunk.

“Brad never showed,” Greg remarked. “Think he drowned in the tub?”

“He said he wasn’t very hungry,” Fenny lied, wrapping his cold toast and melon sections up in a napkin anyway.

“Paul, you go up and fetch Brad,” Gina commanded. “And take him his breakfast.”

“Yes Miss,” he said and limped away with the care package.

“What’s wrong?” Gina asked as soon as he was out of sight.

“Nothing,” Fenny said a bit too quickly. “You ready to drive, Greg? I’ll be your navigator. Us spectacled ones need to stick together.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” he nodded. Fenny dug in the pocket of her jeans and tossed him the keys, and he wandered off to the parking lot.

“You sure nothing’s wrong?” Gina asked. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you and Brad aren’t getting on, but I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause we’re such the perfect couple,” Fenny scorned sarcastically.

“No, because you always seem too—busy—to fight.”

“Yeah, well therein lies the problem.”

“What, bad sex?” Gina asked, perplexed.

“No, great sex. Troubled people.”

“What?” Gina asked, shaking her head in confusion.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Fenny grumbled as Paul and Brad appeared. “Let’s just go.” She marched the rest of the way to the car and buckled herself into the passenger seat. Gina waited to catch up with Paul and shot a concerned look at Brad who looked more miserable than Fenny. He stopped short when he noticed Fenny and Greg together in the front seat, but got in the back without comment.

“Broken Hill, right?” Fenny asked as soon as everyone was piled in.

“Yeah,” Gina agreed, snuggling close to Paul.

“Let’s go!” Greg cried and pulled out of the parking lot.

They drove the first few miles in silence as usual, not surprising after the rather strange breakfast. Brad took to humming what Fenny could almost discern as “Big Yellow Taxi,” but stopped when he thought she was looking at him through the side mirror.

“How’s your spleen?” Fenny asked Paul.

“Spleen?” he asked. “Oh, you want me to sing?”

“Beats the deafening silence,” she shrugged, “and maybe you could drown out the disturbing occasional ‘I’m gonna die’ noises from the car.”

“I could give it a try,” he said, thought for a moment, and smiled at Gina before he began to sing: “Love is in the air, love is in the air and I don’t know if I’m being foolish and I don’t know if I’m being wise. There’s something that I do believe in and it’s there when I look in your eyes—”

The car jerked to a sudden, jarring stop. “What?” Gina demanded, tearing her eyes from Paul’s.

“Rabbit,” Greg said through his teeth as he glared into the rearview mirror and headed off again.