As evening set in and the hospital began to fall into an uneasy and anxious quietness, the dense outback air was still blowing as hot as the day, and the only noise to radiate through the old building was the music from on an old radio.

---

Gina lay awake on her bed. The doctors had urged her to rest, but she found this next to impossible. The rancid heat, the adrenaline that was still pumping through her veins, and the impossible throbbing in her head were beginning to drive her mad. She slipped off the bed and checked no one was about before she headed out of the ward. Gina glanced over at the curtains that surrounded Fenny’s bed. There was silence and she decided it was best to leave her.

---

Fenny woke and pulled her head up from the damp. She pulled back the curtains and padded across the floor to a water cooler. She grabbed a plastic cup from beside it, filled it with the water and then drank deeply. All the crying, all those tears had left her drained and for the most part devoid of fluid. She glanced around the ward and then remembered Brad. A millions fears gripped Fenny. Was Brad ok? Had he lost too much blood? Would he still be able to do the monkey thing? But she pushed them away and decided to hunt out somebody who could tell her how he was. Besides, she hadn’t seen him since they’d arrived.

As Fenny stepped into the corridor, she ran into a nurse, who looked kindly at her.

“Excuse me,” Fenny, said almost breathless, before clearing her throat.

“Yes dear,” the nurse smiled.

“Could you tell me how Brad Sherwood is please.”

“He was in for?”

“A bullet wound,” Fenny announced, never expecting those words to leave her lips.

“Oh yes, the surgery went well and the bullet was removed. He’s still not regained consciousness but you can see him if you’d like,” the nurse perked.

Fenny wanted to scream, “WHY ARE YOU HAPPY,” but instead she smiled and nodded.

The nurse led her down a different corridor and into a single room.

“Just behind those curtains, dear,” the nurse breathed and then left.

Fenny edged toward the curtain, and almost reluctantly looked. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders when she found he looked surprisingly good. There was copious gauze padding over his shoulder and he looked an unhealthy shade of grey. Fenny walked over to the side of the bed and sat down. What were you supposed to do in these situations? What did they do on TV? Play music, throw themselves over the comatose person and sob, talk incessantly about nothing? Fenny decided to just hold his hand and hope that he woke soon.

---

---

Gina found her way outside and took in several deep breaths. There was nothing more horrible than lungs full of sterile, recycled hospital air. She decided that being outside was good and wandered around the back of the building so she wouldn’t get sprung by nurses. To her surprise, she wasn’t the only one. Leaning over the veranda was Paul. She sidled up to him.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” Gina mused.

“Well, I was going to smoke. Then I realised I didn’t actually have any cigarettes, and I wasn’t going to ask Greg because I think he’d tell me where I could shove them,” Paul replied. “What’s your excuse? Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I can’t sleep. Besides I’m too hyped up from today.”

“Oh yeah…you make Lara Croft look fucking piss-weak, mate,” Paul jeered.

“And I don’t need to wear little shorts and flash my tits to do it,” Gina chided.

“Be good if you had,” Paul grinned.

Gina giggled. “How are you?”

“My entire body feels like it just wants to collapse in a heap,” Paul breathed.

“So why don’t you let it?” Gina asked, instinctively rubbing his back.

“Genie, you know as well as I do. We’re Australian. We could have had all our limbs ripped off and our spleens removed by rats and we’d go ‘it’s just a scratch’,” Paul replied.

“Yeah, but you are an absolute cry baby when you have a cold,” Gina mused.

Paul looked at her sheepishly. “You want me to just let go…let it out.”

“It’ll make you feel better. I’ve done it, so has Fen. And since you’re the next most effeminate one…” Gina chided.

Paul looked at the ground, then away and then back at Gina. “I have never been more scared in my fucking life. I have never felt so pained and so helpless and so fucking confused. I’ve done a lot of stupid things, but over the last few days I’ve seen things you only ever see in movies. Violence that shouldn’t be inflicted on anyone without the aid of a stuntman, unless it’s, like, George Clooney, because he deserves it. I’ve seen people hurt friends, enemies and people I love. I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep again without some horrid, evil flashback invading my sanity. You know what tops it all off though?”

Gina shook her head. She couldn’t speak and was trying not to burst into tears. The emotion in Paul’s voice was killing her.

“I feel fucking responsible. I gave you an ultimatum and fucking messed you up and you walked out. If I’d kept my mouth shut you wouldn’t have got hurt and risked your fucking life tackling a mad woman with a gun. We’d have thought up some brilliant plan and nobody would have got hurt, especially me.” Paul let out a heavy sigh, his tirade finished.

---

---

Fenny looked up from Brad’s lifeless face as she heard the sound of crutches on the linoleum floor. As she suspected, it was Greg. He fell into a chair on the other side of the bed.

“Any signs of life?” he asked.

Fenny shook her head.

“Didn’t think so. I’ve been checking every half hour. His eyes flickered a bit about an hour ago. But I suspect he was just having a dream of some kind. Probably involving naked women and Jell-o,” Greg mused, trying to bring some comfort to Fenny.

“How’s you ankle?” she asked.

“Swollen like a baseball,” Greg huffed. “I’ll kill Paul for picking up that shit heap.”

“Oh, leave him alone, I was involved in the decision,” Fenny cussed.

Greg fell silent for a moment, but was so bored he had to talk. “Have you seen Gina?” he asked.

“No, actually, more pressing things have been on my mind,” Fenny scorned.

“Well I see someone is a bit tetchy,” Greg huffed.

“So sorry, my boyfriend has been shot, had surgery and is currently in a comatose state. Never mind, Greg’s pride’s a bit wounded, I’ll just drop everything and help restore his ego,” Fenny sarced.

“Drop the ‘tude Fen, it doesn’t suit you,” Greg spat.

“Fuck off, Greg,” Fenny hissed.

Greg grabbed his crutches and hoisted himself to his feet as Fenny turned back to Brad. She hadn’t noticed before, as she’d been intent on taking her emotions out on Greg. But Brad’s grip had tightened on her hand.

“Brad,” she gasped.

His eyes flickered. “What do you mean with a banana?” he said in almost a whisper.

“Huh?” Fenny almost laughed. She’d been expecting maybe a, “Where am I,” or, “I’m in pain.”

Brad’s eyes opened. “I hate Australia.”

“Are you in any pain?” Fenny asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Brad said and smiled one of his goofy Brad smiles.

Fenny felt all her worries disappear. She wanted to say some comforting words to him or something meaningful and profound, but all she managed to do was burst into tears and kiss him.

“As you can see, he’s feeling much better,” Fenny heard Greg say as he brought the doctor into the room.

---

---

“You idiot,” Gina sighed. “I didn’t leave because of you. Ok, I sort of did. But it’s not your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have demanded you do anything, man, I don’t own you,” Paul grumbled. “Sure we’re married, but when has that made a fucking difference?”

“I must be the world’s worst wife,” Gina mused.

“Darlin’ no, I’ve seen Springer, there’s at least one hoochie mama worse than you,” Paul jeered.

Gina and Paul sniggered at their own teasing. “God, do you remember our wedding?” she asked.

“I think through the raging hangover I can,” Paul nodded.

“You in that divine velvet suit,” Gina smiled wistfully.

“And you in that gorgeous white gown,” Paul sighed.

“Your mother sobbing that I wasn’t Catholic and we weren’t in a church.”

“And your mother screaming at the caterers for doing everything completely wrong.”

“The flower girl brawl.”

“The page boy vomiting on my sister.”

“And to top it off, they turned the bloody sprinklers on in the park.”

“Yeah, your dress went see-through though,” Paul grinned.

Gina and Paul held each other’s gaze through the harsh neon lights. And slowly, naturally they edged closer.

“I miss you,” Paul breathed as their lips almost touched.

“Hey guys, Brad’s awake.”

Gina and Paul gave each other a “for fuck’s sake” look and turned to see Greg.

“Is he ok?” Gina asked.

“Well he’s managed to play tonsil hockey with Fen,” Greg mused.

“Right, well, better go see him then,” Paul sighed, looking at Gina again.

“Yeah,” Gina added as the moved from the veranda and followed Greg inside.

---

---

“You should rest,” Fenny breathed, trying to pull herself away from Brad.

“Why? I’m not crippled, just a bit wounded,” Brad mused, using the hand he could to stroke Fenny’s cheek.

“You’ve just come out of surgery…you shouldn’t be thinking about…that,” Fenny gasped.

“I’m a guy, we think about it every eight seconds,” Brad perked.

“So I’ve noticed,” Fenny smiled and kissed him again.

“Aw, now he won’t be able to use his fun hand,” Paul announced.

Fenny and Brad looked over at the door where Paul, Gina and Greg stood.

“I’m ambidextrous,” Brad grinned.

“Yeah and Fen’s got a muscular mouth, or so I’ve heard,” Paul countered as he plonked himself on the bed.

Fenny’s mouth fell open and she looked at Paul appalled.

“So how long are you laid up for?” Gina asked, joining Paul on the bed. “If you excuse the pun.”

“I am so disowning you guys,” Fenny sighed, shaking her head.

“If I’m ok, I should be able to leave tomorrow,” Brad enthused, “but I can’t fly for at least a week.”

“We’re just glad you’re ok, man,” Greg smiled and sat himself in the chair.

“You know what’s funny?” Brad asked.

“There’s something funny about being shot?” Paul gasped.

“I did a gag on ‘Whose Line’ about catching a bullet and the fucking thing popped into my brain as I crashed to the floor,” Brad mused. “The irony is more painful than the wound.”

“Is this the bit where we do like the Scooby Doo cartoons and laugh inanely?” Fenny asked.

“Scooby Doo?” Gina asked.

“Yeah, Fred,” Paul mused.

“Thanks Shaggy,” Gina retorted.

“How did you know he was Shaggy?” Fenny queried.

“Lucky guess,” Gina giggled, setting everyone else off. Until a nurse came in and told them off.

---