Fenny emerged from her bedroom dressed in a Led Zeppelin shirt and her favorite frayed jeans, collapsed on the couch with her feet up on the coffee table, and breathed in deeply. “I’m never moving again,” she announced.

“What day is it?” Paul asked.

“I don’t care,” Gina sighed, perching on the arm of the chair he had fallen into.

“How long have we been gone?” Brad asked.

“Well, let’s see,” Fenny began, “I was kidnapped and dragged into the countryside, Ritza’s house,” Fenny said, “there’s one day. Then to Queanbeyan, two. Our rollicking adventures in Melbourne, three, nearly getting killed in Adelaide—”

“Which is normal there,” Paul added.

“Makes four. The bank vault and skinny dipping, there’s five. Berri, which was fun, and Hawker, which wasn’t. Seven, right? Yeah, there’s a lucky number, everyone was nearly killed in Oodna.”

“But we did beat the bad guys,” Gina reminded her, and Fenny nodded as she continued.

“Then the hospital was eight, messed up in Port Pirie day nine, had fun in Wagga Wagga yesterday day ten, so, this would make it eleven. Eleven days gallivanting and being gallivanted across this marginally unpleasant country. Feels like three months.”

“I’m in trouble,” Paul sighed.

“Aren’t we all?” Greg mused.

“I was supposed to be rehearsing for a musical,” Paul announced. “They’re gonna kill me.”

“Hmm, maybe we should’ve gotten a signed note from our kidnappers for ya,” Fenny smiled. “ ‘Please excuse Paul McDermott from rehearsing; he was chasing psychopaths, nearly blown up on several occasions, locked in a bank vault, and got the shit kicked out of him…signed, The Psychopaths’.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna tell the director.”

“You’ll think of something,” Brad assured him. “Improv comic, that’s what we do, right?”

“Everyone but Gina,” Greg smiled, “but she’s a journalist, it’s the same thing. Oh hey, speaking of improv, Whose Line tapings start again in five days.”

“Remember, it’s still yesterday in California,” Gina reminded them.

“Six then,” Greg corrected himself. “We gotta get back, dude. Can’t wait to tell the guys what happened.”

“They’ll never believe it,” Paul chuckled. “Hell, I don’t believe it and I was there.”

“I’m seriously gonna ask Drew for a raise for us since we got rid of Ritza. But I’m not supposed to fly for another few days,” Brad sighed.

“Four,” Fenny announced, counting on her fingers.

“You should probably go though,” Brad continued, “talk to your wife.”

“Yeah,” Greg agreed softly, glancing over at Gina who was nursing Paul’s eye, which had turned an interesting shade of green.

“Fen?” Brad asked expectantly. “You coming with me?”

“Actually,” Fenny said with a smile, “I’ve got loose ends to tie up here. It’ll take me a few days. Besides, it’ll give you time to get things settled back in LA, explain why you missed your gigs, clean out your fridge, make room for my stuff in your closet,” she snuggled in to Brad’s neck, “maybe make an appointment with the doctor to get that monkey tattoo burned off your back…”

“I thought you liked my tattoos,” Brad huffed.

“I like the one that says you’re mine,” she grinned, “but I don’t plan to roll over in bed every morning for the next fifty years and have to deal with that monkey of yours.”

“Ha, Brad’s got a monkey on his back,” Paul laughed.

“I like that he’s monogrammed,” Gina smiled.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Paul jeered.

“You wouldn’t get ‘Property of Gina’ tattooed across your arse?” she asked, feigning pain.

“Not sober I wouldn’t.” Paul let out a sigh.

“I can assure you I wasn’t sober when I got either of mine,” Brad smirked.

“I wouldn’t put anything past any of you three when you’re drunk,” Gina mused. A few moments of pleased, comfortable silence passed, everyone taking the time to enjoy the feeling of “it’s all over.”

“I want to go home,” Paul declared. “Maybe get nice and drunk before I call my director, just for fun.”

“C’mon, I’ll take you,” Gina said, slapping his thigh as she stood.

“No, that’s okay,” Paul said as he dragged himself out of the chair.

“I insist. No big deal.”

“Yeah, I just don’t want to get back in that car,” he laughed.

Fenny jumped up as they turned to leave. “Paul?” she said, and he turned around. She threw her arms around him. “Thanks,” she cooed as he returned the rather unexpected hug. “I wish there was something else I could do, ‘cause saying ‘thanks for saving my life’ is kinda trite, but really, thanks for saving my life.”

“Aw, it was nothing,” Paul giggled.

“I should let you go,” Fenny said, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before releasing him and stepping back to the couch.

“Bye guys,” Paul called as Gina grabbed him by the arm and dragged him towards the front door. “See you around. I consider us all the best of friends now, what do they call it, when survivors of a plane crash become buddies? That’s us, anyway, and it’ll hurt my feelings if I don’t get to see you again.” He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “I’ll miss you lot, even if you are a bunch of fucked up Yanks, really I will—” With a roll of her eyes, Gina slammed the door behind them.

“He’s a good guy,” Fenny announced as she stretched out across the couch, her head rested on Brad’s knee. “Who’d have thought that our little Gina would have been married to a big shot like him…”

“Who’d have thought our little Fenny would be marrying a big shot like me,” Brad smiled.

“You’re not a big shot,” Greg sneered playfully. “If you’re anything you’re a medium shot.”

“You’re not a big shot either,” Brad said.

“You’re both big shots,” Fenny grinned. “To everyone who counts. So stop your bickering.”

There was a pleased silence for a minute or two.

“Who’s up for something to drink?” Fenny asked suddenly, pulling herself off the couch and wandering into the kitchen. “There’s gotta be something around that isn’t two weeks old and moldy.” She opened the refrigerator and closed it quickly. “No there’s not. I’ll make a pot of tea.”

“Tea,” Greg scoffed. “I’ll be glad to get back to the States where there’s a Starbucks on every corner and you can get a lethal dose of caffeine for three fifty.”

“Holy shit,” Fenny giggled from the kitchen.

“What?” Brad asked, turning around to face her as she entered the room holding the kettle.

“The mugs I was rinsing out when Ritza showed up. They’re still in the sink. I find it disturbingly amusing, and I’m not sure why…”

“Why don’t you stay for a while,” Paul said, struggling to get the key in the lock. “We could have something to drink.”

“Please Paul,” Gina said knowingly, “this is me, not some bimbo you picked up off the street, you don’t need to feed me lines. I know what you’re up to.”

He smiled at her and led her into his apartment. “Lemme just check my messages, get them out of the way…” He sauntered over to the phone and clicked on the answering machine.

Hey Paul, it’s me, your director, remember? Just wanted to see if everything was ok, you were supposed to be at this rehearsal thing two hours ago. Lemme know if something’s wrong.

Beep. Gina and Paul smiled at each other.

Ok, I understand that you like letting your understudy feel appreciated, and you don’t want your performance to be stale, but we really need you at rehearsal…

He skipped to the next message.

I’m certain there’s a perfectly good explanation—do you even have a script…

Hey Pauly! It’s Mikey! Gina rolled her eyes at the new voice. Haven’t heard from you for a while, where’ve you been? Let me guess—you’ve fallen and you can’t get up…

Paul skipped ahead.

Hey! Haven’t seen you in a few days. You haven’t been drinking without us, have you? You passed out on your couch…

Listen to me McDermott. The director again. This isn’t cute. You better be dead, is all I’m saying, ‘cause if you aren’t, you will be soon. Maybe you can afford to fuck around, but this is my production, and I’m not gonna let you ruin it for me…

Where the fuck are you?!

Paul turned off the machine. “That’s enough of that I think,” he smiled and flumped on the sofa next to Gina.

“You’ve been missed,” she mused.

“Yeah, well to hell with them,” he huffed.

“I wasn’t talking about them,” she breathed, crawling into his lap. Gina cupped his battered and bruised cheek in one hand and pulled him in for a soft, loving kiss.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to the others?” Paul asked, wrapping his arms around her.

“They’ll understand if I disappear for the night,” she cooed against his lips.

“Greg?” Paul whispered.

“He’s going home to his wife.”

“Just like me,” he said with a sly smile.

“She’s not coming back, is she?” Greg asked sullenly.

“Probably not,” Fenny answered carefully.

“I should probably get going, leave you two to whatever kinky things you have planned for the night,” Greg smiled. “Shit, I’m gonna have to make a lot of phone calls,” he sighed. “Rebook my flight, explain to the hotel why I never checked out, hope they haven’t tossed out my stuff…”

“Crap, another hotel,” Brad mumbled.

“I won’t stand for it,” Fenny announced. “You’re both gonna stay here, for the night at least.”

“Gee Fen, I don’t—”

“I’ve been living here for ages now,” Fenny announced, “and since Gina’s not here, it’s my place now, and I’m inviting you to stay. Ordering you to stay.”

“Yes ma’am,” Greg agreed with a grin. It was better than another night in a bloody hotel. Anything was. “I should go rescue my stuff and check out…oh, but Gina’s got the car.”

“Lemme go see if I can borrow Moonstar’s,” Fenny smiled. “I need to apologize for missing her fondue party anyway.”

“Fondue?” Brad and Greg mouthed curiously.

Gina and Paul looked at each other in the orange sunlight streaming in from the bedroom window overlooking a beautiful sunset. He reached out a hand and pushed a few stray hairs back from her face as she snuggled closer to him under the sheets. “So you forgive me?” she asked.

“Forgive you? For what?” he asked, slightly surprised.

“Everything. Cheating on you. Running away to the States. Trying to forget you. Messing around with Greg. Nearly getting you killed…”

“Of course I forgive you,” he assured her. “Do you forgive me for everything stupid I’ve ever done?”

“Sure,” she smiled. “This is nice.” She laid her head on his chest for a minute. “We should do it again sometime.”

“I’d like that,” he grinned. “I’m gonna have to go back to Melbourne, work on my musical.”

“Oh,” Gina sighed. Then, after a moment, “Think I could come with you?”

“I’d like that,” he smiled, kissing the top of her head.

“I have something for you,” Brad smiled as he and Fenny slipped off to her room leaving Greg with the television.

“What?” Fenny asked, surprised.

He went to the suitcase that had been dropped in the middle of the room earlier, dug around in it for a minute, and pulled out a pair of monkey-patterned pajamas.

“Oh, Brad,” she cooed, taking them from him. “How sweet. I can’t believe you kept these.”

“Well, the plan was for me to find Gina, have her bring me to you, I’d beg and plead for you to take me back, we’d go to my hotel room, maybe fool around a little—hence the boxers, and then you could put on your pjs. I know you liked them a lot. It’s kinda symbolic, I wanted to start over, pretend none of the bad things ever happened.”

“I don’t want to start over,” Fenny stated, sitting on the bed, holding the pajamas and fingering the material. “I like where we are. Although maybe pretending some of the things we’ve been through never happened sounds like a brilliant idea.”

Brad sat next to her and took her hands in his. “You’re sure you can’t come with me to LA?”

“I told you, I’ve got some things to deal with here first.”

“Like what?”

“Like what. Well, I’ve got to pack up my things, I’ve got to say goodbye to the friends I’ve made here, I’ve got to talk to my freelance clients out here, I’ve got to get my money changed back to a useful form, just things. It’s hard moving across the planet after almost a year.” Brad nodded. “Besides, I think we both need some time to clear our heads.”

“What do you mean—” Brad began, sounding hurt.

“It’s not you,” Fenny assured him with a loving smile. “But a lot has happened that I don’t think has really set in, and we could probably use a couple days apart to absorb everything.”

“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Brad asked cautiously.

“No,” Fenny cried, “no, of course not. I love you and I’ll continue to love you and I want to get married and I want to move in with you. Oh, I’m gonna have to spend some time back home before that can happen, too,” she mused, not entirely pleased with the prospect. “Break the news to my family, explain to the Hitchhikers that I’m leaving, pack up all my things, rescue poor Jaguar from my parents. Then I’ll have to find a new job…”

“Don’t worry about all that now, Fen,” Brad chided. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is we’re together and we love each other.”

“Right. Have you noticed,” Fenny began as she curled up next to him, “that every once in a while, there’s no helping the fact that we turn into some sappy chick flick or something?”

“Well, what can you do?” Brad smiled, rubbing her back. “When we get home, I’m going to buy you the most stunning ring you’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t need anything extravagant, Brad,” she blushed. “Really.”

“Whatever you want then,” he amended, kissing her forehead.

“What are we going to tell people, when they ask how you proposed,” Fenny mused, “because you know they’ll ask.”

“We’ll tell them I did it on the beach, on my knees,” Brad giggled. “We can leave out the trying to kill each other after narrowly escaping being killed by Ritza.”

“I like that,” Fenny sighed.

“You know,” Brad said after a moment, “Paul brought up a very interesting fact yesterday.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Our engagement. It hasn’t been consummated.”

“I didn’t think you had to consummate an engagement,” Fenny teased. “Only marriages.”

“Well I don’t see how it could hurt,” Brad shrugged, smiling at her.

“True,” she giggled, looking up at him and being captured in a passionate kiss.

After watching a few hours of mindless television, Greg limped into the shower and stayed there for twenty minutes, relishing in the feeling of warmth and the knowledge that he was finally safe. He collapsed on the bed without bothering to dry his hair. He laid back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling, breathing in the faint sweet smell of Gina’s shampoo still in the sheets. Remembering something, he slipped back off the bed and dug around the pocket of his jeans, pulled out the small object, and opened his suitcase. Greg dropped the gold band into the small pocket under the lid and snapped the case closed again. He padded back to the bed, slipped under the covers, and smiled to himself as he drifted off into sleep.