Fenny leaned back heavily in her seat next to Paul. He’d drifted off into a significantly easier sleep, but she was still worried about him. His erratic mood swings were a bit offsetting, even for Paul, and while she wanted to chalk it up to the fact that his wife was in the hands of a madwoman, it didn’t quite seem to fit the way it should. She decided she was thinking too much and that it was probably time to join the others and get to sleep. With any luck they’d make it through the endless flight without anyone having to talk to each other, because she really just was not in the mood to do much more than crawl into a hole and not come out until everyone’s problems were solved.

Brad glanced over as Fenny reclined her seat a bit, expecting a whine from Greg about being squished in the seat behind her, but he was already asleep again. Brad hadn’t been filled in entirely about what had happened to the others, but they all looked pretty torn up and severely jetlagged. Brad wished he could sleep too, but he’d actually managed a good night’s sleep, after he’d given up listening warily for noises from Ritza and Beven’s room.

His mind wandered to Beven and Ritza, how they’d get along trying to deal with Claudia on their own, whether they’d end up killing each other in the process, and if the motley group headed to Australia would be able to deal with Amy without help from the ex-mafia members.

Fenny shifted in her seat and let out a soft sigh, capturing Brad’s attention. She’d fallen asleep with her glasses on and would probably regret it later. He reached between the seats and gently slipped them from her face. She opened her eyes and blearily tried focusing on him.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “I thought you were asleep.”

“It’s ok,” she whispered back, taking her glasses from him and putting them back on. “Can’t sleep.”

“You doing alright?”

“I don’t know,” she breathed. “I think if I think about how I’m doing I might end up rocking in the fetal position the rest of the way to Australia. I mean, the one who does the most rescuing is currently captured, our moral support is depressed, our comic relief is more grumpy than usual, and my—” She stopped short of referring to Brad as her husband who probably wanted to get back to his lover. “Everything’s just turned upside down, y’know? And I’m thinking about the stuff I didn’t want to think about, it’s giving me a headache.”

“I know,” he breathed.

“How’re you?”

“I’m doing okay. Worried about Gina, and Beven and Ritz. A little nervous about having to fight evil again. But being kidnapped puts things into perspective. I can’t wait until this is just over and we can all go home and get our lives back to normal, see how long they can stay that way.”

“None of our lives have ever been normal,” Fenny mused. “The most I can ask for at this point is to just avoid debilitating physical injury so we can all just get home alive.”

Brad settled back in his seat, thinking about getting home and getting to see his daughter again. “Hey Fen?”

“Hmm.”

“Do you have any regrets?”

She looked at him for a moment, pondering. “Actually there’s very little in my life that I haven’t regretted at one time or another. Right now I regret being born, I regret leaving my luggage and my sketchbook in the car that got stolen in Ohio, and I regret never having taken up my father on his offer to take me to the shooting range with the rest of my family.”

“I don’t think I’d regret that last one,” he said with a quick smile. “But you know that’s not what I mean,” he chastised softly.

“I know,” she nodded, breathing carefully and not looking at him. “But yeah, sometimes I do regret the things you mean. Us, Gina, Australia, Lilly, Danny, Scotland, everything. Sometimes I don’t. That’s probably not what you wanted to hear, but it’s the truth. I have to wonder what would have happened if I’d made other decisions. I probably wouldn’t be on a plane traveling to what could be my death. Are you gonna tell me that you’ve got no regrets?”

“Yes,” he said with such sincerity she had to look into his eyes. “A lot of things have happened that I didn’t plan or enjoy, but I wouldn’t take them back if I had the chance. Things happen for a reason, right?”

“For god’s sake,” Greg’s voice creaked, “if you need to chat, switch spots with me.”

“Oh,” she peeped as he unclipped his seatbelt and stood over her, blinking myopically as he waved his glasses irritably at her to move. “Sorry, didn’t meant to wake you.”

Greg let out a grunt that may or may not have contained actual words, and Fenny hastily unclipped her belt and stood so he could flop down next to Paul. She gingerly moved back a row and sat in the seat next to Brad. And promptly realized she didn’t have anything else to say.

“We probably should be getting some sleep,” Brad announced. “Rest up so we can battle evil when we land.”

“Right,” she breathed, taking off her glasses and tucking them away securely before leaning back in her seat, pulling one leg under herself, and trying to at least pretend to sleep. Brad leaned his head against the window, idly wondered where they would be if he’d made different choices, and if they’d be any worse off than they were at the moment.

Since all of his friends were asleep, Danny had taken to listening to the sounds of the half-empty cabin — other passengers talking together, singing along with their portable CD players and harassing the flight attendants — because it was easier than listening to his own thoughts, wondering what Gina was doing, and feeling bad that he wasn’t quite as worried as Paul was. Danny knew that Gina was more than capable of holding her own, and was only a bit concerned about the fact that she was injured and probably couldn’t run away on her own. He was confident that when they did get to Australia they’d find Gina alive and well, if not in a bit of a bad mood, and he was better off not worrying until he had a gun pointed at his head. He wasn’t ready to begin thinking about what they’d do then. So he eavesdropped.

Directly behind him was Paul, Fenny next to him, Brad and Greg behind them, and Danny’s ears perked up when he heard Fenny and Brad whispering to each other. He tried not to listen, but couldn’t help it. Their talk of regrets got him thinking. There were a lot of things he regretted. First and foremost he regretted not watching Gina as closely as he could have. He had been so worried that Amy would be after him, he hadn’t even considered that Amy would be after Gina. Maybe if he hadn’t been so self absorbed they wouldn’t be in this position. He decided that was another train of thought that wasn’t conducive to the positive thoughts and optimism he was trying to hold on to, and it should be avoided at all costs.

Fenny and Brad went quiet as soon as Greg switched places with her. Fenny. Danny wasn’t sure if he regretted her as much as he regretted Brad. Or more her obscene loyalty to the man, the fact that even though they spent half their time hating each other they always ended up together anyway. The fact that Danny was one of the prominent reasons for hating each other. Another topic to avoid thinking about for fear it would get him grumpy.

What he really regretted was those six cups of coffee he’d had at the airport in an attempt to use up some nervous energy. Now he had a full bladder and couldn’t sleep. Damn caffeine.

“Up,” a voice grumbled as a hand shoved Gina harshly and jolted her awake. “Now.”

“No,” she grumbled into her pillow. “Me sleep. You piss off.”

“The boss says if you don’t get up she’ll do something vicious to one of your little friends.”

“I’d like to see her try,” Gina breathed sleepily, rolling away from the heavy. “Why can’t she threaten me herself? A bit too much tequila last night, maybe?”

The heavy grabbed her by the arm and pulled her off the bed to stand in front of him. “You’ve got five minutes,” he growled, and stomped out of the room.

“My, they’ve gotten authoritative, haven’t they,” she mumbled to herself as she collapsed back onto the bed, investigating her ankle. The swelling had gone down significantly, but it still hurt like hell and throbbed when she moved. Deciding the best move was to not worry about it, she pulled Paul’s bag from under the bed. At least this time she had access to be bare necessities of hygiene products, like a comb and deodorant. She limped to the en suite and locked herself in. After tidying herself up as much as she could and changing out of Paul’s frilly shirt and into a slightly less hideous and wrinkled button up, she pulled out his phone.

Halfway through typing up a text message, Amy pounded on the door. “Hurry up in there, we’re leaving!”

“I’m kinda busy,” Gina called back.

“I don’t fucking care, get out here now,” Amy demanded.

“Or what, you’ll leave without me?” Gina countered.

“I don’t mind breaking down the door you know.”

Gina sent the message and, rolling her eyes as she hid the phone away, she got up and limped to the door to unlock it. “I’d see someone about this bathroom fetish you’ve got, I don’t know if it’s healthy.” She smiled cheekily at Amy, who made a slight gesture with her head in Gina’s direction. Suddenly she was tackled to the wall, one heavy leaning against each of her shoulders, pinning her. Gina didn’t bother to struggle and instead looked apathetically at Amy. “Now what? You threaten me a bit, yell at me for knocking you out last night, drug me some more and drag me to a town called Gina where my friends and I beat you and your cronies senseless? Or have you finally managed a little bit of variation on the theme? Just let me warn you, the whole pistol whipping thing? It’s been done.”

“Listen to me, you little bitch. I wouldn’t be so smug if I were you,” Amy hissed as she paced the room a bit uneasily.

“If you were in my position, you’d be cowering in a corner begging for your mommy, wouldn’t you?” Gina countered.

“You might have a mouth on you, and you put up a brave front, but I know that you’re really terrified that I’m going to kill you.” She paused in her pacing to stare Gina in the face. “And you’re scared shitless about your friends and that little husband of yours and what I’m going to do to them.”

“Get fucked,” Gina said firmly.

Amy reached out and fingered the necklace around Gina’s neck. The diamond glinted theatrically and Amy smirked. “From your dearest Pauly?” Gina didn’t answer, just glared at her. “Such a beautiful symbol of such a tragic couple.” Her fingers wrapped around the heart shaped pendant and yanked the chain from Gina’s neck.

“Give it back,” Gina growled, pushing against the two burly men.

“Why? I’ll only pawn it off after I kill you anyway.”

“I said give it back,” Gina shrieked, managing to break away from one of the heavies. She took three lunging steps towards Amy, her ankle forgotten through the haze of adrenaline and fury, and managed to knock Amy to the floor before she was tackled by both heavies at once, one leaning harshly against her back and knocking the wind out of her.

Amy clumsily righted herself, blowing hair from her face and shaking her head as if trying to clear it. She gave Gina a swift kick in the ribs before squatting down beside her. Gina, panting for breath and trying not to let the pain show in her face, glared at Amy as she grabbed her left hand. Gina clenched her fist tight, fearing what Amy had planned, but she wrenched Gina’s arm around and at such an awkward angle, she couldn’t put up much of a fight. Amy slid the wedding ring from Gina’s finger, spun it around a couple times and slid it onto her index finger.

“You poor deluded woman,” Amy sighed mockingly. “You really do believe that love conquers all, huh? Well conquer this.” She nodded at one of her men, who slammed an elbow into the back of Gina’s head and she slumped, unconscious yet again.

“You grab the bag,” Amy hissed at one of the heavies as they climbed off Gina. “You grab the skank. And would you watch her next time, Jesus!”

Paul’s dreams were a bit more troubled than usual; Gina was lying motionless in the bottom of a glass boat, sharks circling menacingly, and Paul was trying to swim towards her, but he kept sinking, pulled down by massive beds of kelp and seaweed. As he made it close to the boat, sea birds began attacking the sharks from above until the sharks snapped at the birds, biting off their wings and tearing them into the sea. The boat overturned, and suddenly he and Gina were on the shore, still and quiet, as waves covered them in sand and rocks. One of the sea birds waddled up to them, stood on Gina’s chest and pecked at Paul’s shoulder, squawking his name. “Paul. For fuck’s sake, Paul. McDermott, wake up.”

Paul woke up reluctantly, his body heavy and stiff, but glad to be rid of the dream. “What,” he growled.

“Wake up, they’re trying to feed you.”

Paul opened one eye and squinted at Greg. “Why Fenny, you’ve changed.”

“She’s back there sleeping with loverboy, she’s next on my list of people to wake up.” Greg shot a quick smile at the flight attendant who was waiting patiently, then reclined his seat back as far as it could go, turned round in his chair and stuck his face directly in front of Fenny’s as her forehead rested on Brad’s arm. “Fenella Sherwood, what do you think you are doing,” he snapped, and she jerked awake, found herself once again inches from Greg’s face, and she started violently with a muffled squeak of surprise.

“God that’s a frightening thing to wake up to,” she said, clutching her chest, “I feel for your wife.” She squinted at Greg as Brad stretched tiredly. “I see you’ve made a new friend.”

Greg turned round just as the stewardess averted her gaze from his rear to the contents of her cart. “These flight attendants must get awfully desperate,” Brad mused sleepily. Fenny frowned a bit as she put on her glasses, remembering Stuart.

Greg was unaffected and continued. “You want chicken or pasta? Keep in mind that you don’t get so much as a plastic picnic spork as a cutting implement so we can’t hijack the plane. Or eat like civilized human beings.”

“Chicken,” Fenny shrugged, smiling apologetically at the stewardess.

“Yeah, chicken,” Brad agreed.

“Pasta,” Danny piped up from two rows ahead.

“Nothing for me thanks,” Paul said.

“Paul,” Fenny countered, “you have to eat something or you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Yes Mother,” he grumbled.

“Well you’re gonna be a lot of good to Gina if you waste away and die before we even get there. Then who’d take care of Troy? What will Archie do without a positive male role model?”

“Ozzy Osbourne would be a better positive male role model,” Greg mused.

“Isn’t Archie a gnome?” Brad argued.

“Well who would enlighten the public about the hazards of tight jeans?” Fenny continued.

Paul cracked a slight smile. “I’ll just have the side salad, if that’s ok,” he said to the stewardess. “That good enough, Mum?” he asked Fenny.

“Don’t get cheeky with me, young man.”

“She’s channeling my mother,” Danny mused.

“How much longer ’til we land?” Fenny asked.

Brad checked his watch. “Four hours.”

“God, next time I’m getting a seat on the other side of the plane,” she teased.

“We haven’t even started to press buttons yet,” Brad perked, eyeing the button panel mischievously.

“Or push the limits of security precautions,” Greg added.

“No one’s hit on a steward yet,” Paul grinned.

“We haven’t even worried nearby passengers with tales of our sordid adventures,” Danny said.

“First one to try to copulate with an inflatable life vest, I’m jumping off the plane.”

“Aww,” the four men whined simultaneously.

Gina woke up with a blinding headache and incredibly stiff shoulders. “Oww,” she groaned as she noticed that breathing was now a painful habit, and when she tried to lean into her bruised ribs, she discovered that both her arms were tied to the headboard. “Terrific,” she grumbled to herself.

“Shame,” a gruff voice mused, and she jumped, opening her eyes, “I was kinda hoping you’d go into a coma or something.”

She squinted at him, the heavy who until then hadn’t said a word. He was perched cross-legged in the center of the other single bed in the room, flipping through Paul’s sketchbook. “What’re you doing?” Gina demanded.

“Keeping myself amused,” he shrugged. “I’m trying to figure out if your husband’s a gifted artist or just completely insane.”

“He’s both. What’re you doing in here?”

“You’ve proven yourself enough of a pain that Amy’s decided you need a keeper. That would be me. And let me tell you, it’s ruined my whole day. I was winning a fortune off Jaime in poker games before you decided to be a pain. So thanks a lot.” He held up the sketchbook, showing one of the nude figures. “This you?”

“Maybe,” Gina answered, her head throbbing too much to make a clever remark.

He raised his eyebrows at the drawing. “It’s good. Pity we have to kill him.”

“Thanks for the compassion.”

“Your husband into Goya?”

“What?”

“Goya, Spanish artist during the Enlightenment era?”

“He likes Miro.” The heavy let out a thoughtful hum. “Why?” Gina asked, trying to wrap her mind around this suddenly chatty, cultured heavy.

“Just curious. What’s with the weasel?”

“Mongoose.”

“Just as bad.”

“I told you, my husband’s insane.”

“Must be if he married a woman like you.”

“Ha ha,” she sneered. “Can you untie me?”

“Yes.” He flipped to the next page.

“Well?”

“I didn’t say I was going to.”

“Well why not?”

“Because I don’t really want to get whacked in the head with anything.” He looked pointedly at her. “Besides, I’m mad at you for making me miss an opportunity to win some cash.”

“Sorry if my kidnapping has inconvenienced you,” she huffed. “Besides, I’m not very fond of you either.” She pulled at her bonds in more of a symbolic gesture than in any realistic attempt to get free.

“I’d save my energy if I were you.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because you’re going to need to conserve your energy if you’re actually expecting to fight us off. Your friends should be landing any minute now, they’ll probably be here soon.”

“What do you know about that?” Gina demanded.

The heavy looked at her with a hint of a sardonic smile playing across his face before returning to the book.

“Shit,” she hissed.

“Ooh, we’ve got correspondence,” Fenny announced as they stood in the terminal stretching for a few moments trying to regain feeling in their legs. She dialed her message bank and put the phone to her ear as the others watched anxiously.

“Hey Fen, just wanted to let you know that your mother and me got a new sports utility vehicle and we’re heading up to visit your uncle Bill, he’s doing a rock hunt. You wouldn’t believe this car, it’s got electric butt warmers in the seat and a DVD player in the back, but I can’t put my Jack-in-the-Box antenna ball with the Angels helmet on the antenna ‘cause when you turn off the engine—”

“Well?” Greg prompted.

“I’m disowning my father on the grounds that I refuse to share his genes,” Fenny shrugged as she skipped to the next message. No one bothered to question her.

“Good to see you’re taking my advice about not answering the phone. Ritza’s been grouchy all day, we’ve been stocking up on ammo, getting ourselves some real weapons, dumped the stuff we stole from a couple of Claudia’s men, trying to come up with a plan of action, not much happening. We want you to call us when you get to Oz, let us know the plane wasn’t hijacked and that sweet stuff hasn’t done anything dumb. Well, more dumb than normal. I’ll wait a sec while you get yourself ready to write down the number to the phone we got to replace the one your hubby lost.”

“It’s Beven,” she announced, casting around blankly for a moment before noticing Danny had a pen in his pocket, which she grabbed. After scribbling the number on the back of her hand and listening to Beven’s friendly goodbye and general words of warning, she handed the pen back to a bemused Danny and moved on to check the text message waiting for her. “He wants us to call him.”

“They got a phone then?” Brad asked.

“Well they had to, you lost Ritza’s.”

“I was nearly shot,” he whined. “I’ve got the powder burns to prove it.” He gestured to a red mark on his thumb and stuck his lower lip out.

“You poor thing,” Fenny said vacantly as she noticed Danny heading towards the baggage claim. She followed while trying to convince her phone to let her read the message. “Hey look, Gina loves me,” she perked and she handed the phone to Paul who looked startled, but hurriedly read the message.

“We’re headed out again. I’ll call when we get there. I love your drawings. Amy is a stupid cow. Be careful. I love you.”

“Come on, come on, hurry up,” Paul enthused, slipping the phone into his pocket. Fenny didn’t question him, nor did the others as they followed obediently, Paul taking the lead. She just hoped her father didn’t decide to call about agate deposits in the Arizona desert.