Fenny crawled out of Sean’s car with Troy under one arm and paused to wave at Beven and Ritza as their car trundled towards the hospital again. She joined Paul, Gina and Danny who were leaning against what she could only assume was the latest in the long line of “liberated” cars.

“How’d you steal this one?” she asked, handing Troy over to an obviously grateful Paul.

He rubbed his cheek against the top of Troy’s head with a murmured thanks. “Genie did it,” he announced proudly as Danny pulled her crutches out of the back seat for her. She accepted them reluctantly as Greg and Brad wandered up and leaned against them, relieved to get the weight off her ankle which was once again throbbing.

“Why did I even ask,” Fenny shrugged.

“Who’s driving?” Brad asked, holding up a set of keys.

“Where’d you get those?” Gina asked, snatching them from him.

“Fen’s FBI friend. Said we could take his car, something about the others being used for evidence or something, and they’ll deal with our ‘legitimately misappropriated vehicle’ for us.”

“I feel kind of bad about the whole abandoning him in his skivvies incident now,” Greg mused.

“I don’t,” Brad pouted as he slipped his arm around Fenny’s waist, “he kidnapped my wife.”

“And my mongoose,” Paul added pointedly.

“Can we just get out of here?” Danny grumbled.

“Back to Coober Peedy?” Paul asked.

“That’s what Eric said. Closest beds and something resembling food,” Brad said as they headed for Eric’s SUV. Gina and Paul settled themselves in the front, Paul quickly settling into the role of navigator.

“God I need smaller friends,” Greg grumbled as he tried to wedge himself between Fenny and Danny in the back seat.

“Yeah, you should talk, Proops,” Fenny teased. It became apparent they weren’t all going to fit, so she crawled into Brad’s lap with her back against the door and her legs sprawled across Greg, who surprisingly didn’t complain.

“We set to go?” Gina asked and was greeted by an enthusiastic round of yeses.

Once the car was in motion, exhaustion, reflection and the general aftermath of trauma settled on them, and everyone went oddly quiet and remained such apart from occasional navigational directions from Paul.

They found the pub they’d stayed in what felt like eons ago and flagged down the proprietor to arrange for rooms while ignoring the looks of confusion from the bartender.

“We’ll all get freshened up then meet down here for dinner, yeah?” Gina suggested. Everyone nodded their agreement, and Gina and Paul headed for their room, Gina trying to navigate the stairs on her crutches, followed by Brad and Fenny.

Danny looked at the rows of bottles adorning the bar and decided they looked more welcoming than an empty room. “Care to join me in trying to kill the brain cells that hold today’s memories?” he asked Greg.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Greg enthused and all but lunged for the nearest bar stool.

Paul wrenched the door open and decided he’d never in his life been so happy to see a dingy little pub room over a bar. After the day they’d had, he wanted nothing more than to collapse in a heap, pretend he hadn’t seen someone get shot and not think about the prospect of explaining some of the less pleasant details of his life to a group of cops and FBI agents. Actually, scratch that, he wanted to go home, collapse into a heap and forget the cold feeling of his fingers gripping a gun, ready to pull the trigger in defense of his wife who was moments away from being shot herself.

“I can’t wait to get home,” he announced, collapsing face first onto the bed and mumbling into the bedclothes.

“I can’t wait to get you home,” Gina smiled as she sat down in a tatty chair to pull off her shoes, her crutches abandoned in a corner.

“I’m sorry,” he announced suddenly as he rolled over to face her.

“What for?” she asked, wondering if she should be worried.

“Everything. Pissing off to Melbourne, going off the deep end about the whole pregnant thing, not talking to you, abandoning you in your time of need—”

“Time of need?” she asked, a smile playing on her features. “You do understand I’ve never been pregnant, right?”

“Yes, of course I know. But you’d just lost your job and the idiots who call themselves our friends had just destroyed our house and our lives and we were going to spend time together and everything, and I left. I’m such a shitty husband.”

“No you’re not,” Gina cooed as she crawled up the bed to lay next to him. She wrapped her arms around him, careful of the wounds and bruises covering his torso, he in turn careful of her slowly healing injuries. “You’re a strange, confused man but I love you for it,” she smiled and gave him a brief kiss. “You tried to rescue me from evil a couple times over the last few days, I think that makes you a fantastic husband. Makes you a lousy super hero though, because you never got to me first.”

“You sent Fen to rescue me,” he pointed out blankly. “What kind of a wife does that make you.”

“Won’t happen again,” she smiled as he pulled her closer. “You’re here now anyway.”

“I’m going to try harder to be a better husband,” Paul assured her, his voice thick with rarely-seen sincerity, “I promise.”

“The last time you tried harder you had me convinced you’d been replaced by an alien doppelgänger,” she said pointedly, turning her eyes up to his.

“No, I was trying to be mature,” he pointed out. “And I think it’s safe to say that that was an experiment that failed rather tragically.”

“That should tell you something,” Gina mused and kissed his cheek. Paul nodded mutely as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “What’re you thinking?” she asked.

“That I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.” He opened his eyes and looked at her carefully.

“Aw hon, I think you’re stuck with me,” she smiled. “If drug lords, mafia princesses, psychotic Americans and home renovations haven’t gotten us, what else could?”

Paul nodded and smiled weakly, leaning over to give her a quick kiss.

“You really need a shave before dinner,” she smirked, pulling away and sitting up to tighten the bandage around her ankle.

“Do we have to have dinner?” he asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“We haven’t eaten properly in days, we very nearly died a few hours ago, neither of us are going to have the energy for sex,” she pointed out, although she never expected to hear those words coming from her lips.

“Oh it’s not that, I’m just remembering how the food tasted last time. Yick,” he cringed dramatically.

Gina rolled her eyes. “Go scam a razor off someone and try to clean yourself up a bit for dinner,” she smiled, pushing him off the bed.

Fenny lay on her back with her eyes closed, her glasses on the pillow next to her as she listened to the shower running in the next room. She would have been perfectly content to lay there for the rest of her life, and probably would if she weren’t convinced that her stomach was preparing consume lesser organs. She was always amazed at how long one could live off pure adrenaline, but once the taste of fear left your mouth, basic human needs like food, sleep and cleanliness kicked in, hard.

The shower stopped and she could hear the water dropping off Brad, and his footsteps as he crawled out of the tub. The door opened and he stepped into the room. Fenny opened her eyes and let out a yawn as she stretched, pleased to find him in only a towel as he dropped an armload of clothes onto the floor.

He sat on the edge of the bed next to her. “Know what I miss most when we get sucked into these daring adventures?”

“Um, let’s see, your general sense of well-being, the couple pints of blood you inevitably lose, and your ignorance of basic firearm knowledge?” she ventured. “Just a guess of course.”

“That too,” he nodded, “but I was thinking more along the lines of clean clothes.”

“Beven’s right, you’re such a girl,” she teased.

Brad sprawled out on the bed and put an arm around Fenny as she cuddled close to him, resting her cheek on his chest, still warm and damp from his shower. He wrapped a few tendrils of her wet hair around his fingers and let out a deep sigh. “I missed you Fen.”

“Even when you had Bess?” Fenny asked cautiously.

“Yeah.” The silence went on a few beats too long, neither knowing quite what to say. “What happens when we get home?”

“I think that’s up to you, isn’t it? I mean I won’t stop you from going back to her if that’s what you want. It’d kill me, but I won’t stop you.”

“She thinks you’re terrible because of Dan.”

“Bess knows about me and Dan?” Fenny asked, sitting up.

“Well, sorta. She noticed the ring, I had to tell her.”

Fenny was pleasantly shocked that he was still wearing his wedding band, and more than a bit annoyed that his perky nurse had developed opinions about her. “She doesn’t mind that you’re married?”

“I told her we were separated. Which we were. Kind of. Besides, it’s not like your marriage bothered Danny,” he pointed out.

“I haven’t slept with him the whole time I’ve been in Australia,” she assured him, suddenly feeling very stupid for bringing up the subject. “Surely I’m improving?”

Brad chuckled and rolled his eyes. “How about this. We forget about Dan and Bess, we’ll call it even, I’ll move back in, we’ll get Lilly to tear the place up again, and we’ll start an account at the bank to pay for all our therapy.”

“Really?” Fenny gasped.

“Really. Unless you decide to, I dunno, sleep with another of our male friends before we get back to LA.”

“I’m allowed to sleep with a female friend then, am I?” she asked.

“Depends. Do I get to watch?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Such an idiot,” she chided and gave him a kiss. “Now get dressed, we’re supposed to be meeting the others for dinner.”

Greg and Danny looked up from the bar at the others as they approached looking clean and vaguely refreshed. Quite a stark contrast to the two who had since ordered a bottle of tequila each and were well on their way to temporarily losing their trauma in an alcohol-induced fuzz.

“Another bottle over here,” Paul ordered as he sauntered up to the bar. “You want one too Sherwood?”

“They’re not seriously going to drink an entire bottle each, are they?” Fenny asked as she and Gina adopted a table.

“They’re certainly going to try. I give them two thirds each before they pass out. Wait, no, Paul might make three quarters, but Brad won’t get past the halfway mark.”

Fenny opened her mouth to reply, but a sudden realization crossed her face and she turned sharply to the bar. “I’d like a soda if someone can be bothered, but if anyone puts so much as a cherry in it I’ll kill them.”

“Trust me Fen, we’ve learned our lesson,” Greg grumbled as he plopped himself across from her at the table. “You’re enough of a pain sober.”

“Thank you Mr. Sunshine,” she sneered.

“I didn’t even get any drunken sex out of it,” Brad murmured as he sat down next to Fenny with a bottle of tequila.

“Too much information,” Danny announced as Paul placed Fenny’s and Gina’s sodas on the table. As he sat next to Gina, he snatched one of the shot glasses from Brad and poured himself a drink.

“Where’s the guy that’ll feed us?” Brad asked, glancing around aimlessly. “I’m hungry.”

“Big surprise,” Greg teased.

“He better show up soon,” Paul groused, “I just want to eat so I can hide under the covers for a while.”

“You and me both,” Danny sighed.

Paul raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “Looks like it’ll be a while,” Gina declared. “So can we recap?” she suggested.

“Do we have to?” Fenny grumbled.

“From the beginning,” Gina continued, ignoring Fenny. “Ritza’s on our side.”

“And Rona’s going to be in prison for a very, very long time,” Brad added.

“Don’s dead,” Danny pointed out.

“So’s Claudia,” Paul nodded.

“And Amy’s lover and her brother are sending her to a life in prison,” Gina finished.

“You’re not suggesting we’ve run out of bad guys are you?” Greg asked.

“I think so,” Brad chirped.

“God I hope so,” Danny grumbled.

“Listen to him whinge, and he didn’t even have to deal with the Crispin sisters,” Paul argued.

“Does this mean we can pretend that we’re not going to get kidnapped, beaten or threatened again by homicidal maniacs anytime in the near future?” Fenny asked hopefully.

“It should,” Gina nodded. “I mean we’ve got the FBI interested in us now, that should make us pretty safe.”

“Theoretically,” Greg added cautiously.

“Ooh, does this mean we can join the witness relocation program?” Paul perked. “We can move to Peru, pretend we’re missionaries, change our names to Mitzy and Doug Needleman and build churches out of mud.”

“I think your husband needs more sleep,” Danny frowned at Gina.

“Or more tequila,” Greg suggested.

“Maybe a lobotomy?” Fenny added.

“I’m just excited by the idea of being relocated where you lot can’t find us,” Paul smirked.

“I don’t know,” Brad countered, “from what I hear the FBI’s having serious budget problems, it’d probably be cheaper to send us all to Peru to be missionaries. We could help build your church.”

“Fen could help you put penises in the wall treatments,” Gina grinned.

“So not asking,” Danny mumbled into his glass.

“Dammit, why can’t I get away from you people?” Paul groused.

“He loves us, he’s just afraid to admit it to himself,” Brad announced, Fenny nodding in agreement as a man in a dingy apron approached their table.

“What can I getchas?” he asked, pulling out a writing pad.

“You wouldn’t happen to have tacos would you?” Fenny asked.

“For god’s sake,” Gina sighed.

Ritza opened her eyes hesitantly. Her lids were heavy and it felt as though her brain was swimming through a pool of molasses. She took in a deep breath to try to clear her head. Not that it really worked.

Her vision focused well enough and settled on Beven’s form slumped in a chair next to the hospital bed she didn’t remember being tucked into.

“Duggan,” she croaked, voice thick from sleep.

His eyes fluttered open and he sat up, rubbing an eye. “Hey.”

“You didn’t have to stay here, you could’ve found somewhere to sleep,” she chastised, although she was secretly pleased to find him watching over her.

“No, I’m fine, just dozed off. Damn jet lag,” he said with a cautious smile. “How you feeling?”

“Heavily medicated.”

“Had to stitch up your head,” he nodded.

“How long have I been out?” she asked, stretching out along the length of the bed. The back of her head was still numb, and it felt decidedly odd to not feel the pillow beneath her.

He stretched and looked at his watch. “Couple hours. Lost you in the ride over, they said it was blood loss.”

“Heard anything from any of the others?”

“Nope. Probably off fucking like bunnies. Well the Sherwoods and McDermotts anyway.”

“Bambi’s probably rocking in the fetal position,” Ritza mused.

“Proops is whining, I can guarantee that.”

She let out a soft laugh and poked at the tape holding an IV into her arm. The uncomfortable silence carried on a few beats too long, until their eyes met.

“Is it the time and place yet?” she breathed.

“What for?” Beven asked, trying to feign ignorance.

“When we were at Claudia’s, when you told me I was turning into a love puppy, you said it was neither the time nor the place to discuss our attraction to each other.”

“Jesus Crispin, you’re in a fucking hospital bed hopped up on painkillers and a couple pints low on blood with a head wound and you want to discuss our attraction to each other?”

“Yes, I’m in a fucking hospital bed,” she snapped, “because I’ve had a fucking miserable couple of days and the only good thing that’s been good about it was being with you and I’m sorry I fucked it up but I hated the idea of you being with Claudia, and I know you know it. Right now I’m tired and I miss my son and I hurt and I’m alone.”

“Ritz,” he said softly, but didn’t seem to know what else to say, just held her eyes, an expression on his face that she couldn’t define.

“All I need,” she swallowed, “is to know that you care—”

The curtain was abruptly pulled back and their attention snapped to the doctor who appeared, clicking a pen light to life. “It awakes,” he chirped. He looked vaguely familiar; he’d probably helped one of the others when they’d been in before. Hard to believe they’d left the hospital earlier that day. “Let’s see those eyes of yours, see how you’re doing.”

Ritza watched sullenly as Beven slipped out of her cubicle into the emergency ward, disappearing behind the curtain.

“Miss Crispin?”

She blinked and turned back to the doctor. “Sorry, what?”

“I asked how you’re feeling?”

“I really don’t know,” she breathed.

Danny and Greg sat at the bar, staring ahead blankly, either in deep thought or just genuinely blank. The others had gone to bed twenty minutes ago after finishing dinner, the boys had stayed up “to finish drinking,” and from the looks of things had succeeded in numbing their frontal lobes enough to forget about the recent traumatic events. Along with a great deal of other things, not the least of which were how to sit up straight and the proper way to form consonants.

“Y’know what I hate?” Danny announced suddenly.

Greg turned slowly towards the stool next to him, looking up at Danny with one eye squinted closed. “Your bad karma?” he guessed.

“No. Well yes. But no.”

“Crazy kidnapper bitches?”

“That too. But no.”

“That weird thing where a muscle in your eyelid starts to twitch and there’s nothing you can do about it?”

Danny turned to glare at Greg. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That never happens to you? Man it’s weird.”

“I’ll bet.” Danny took a drink and poured himself another shot. Greg downed his and let Danny refill his glass.

“So what do you hate?”

“Paul.”

“Don’t we all.”

“S’not fair he gets Gina,” Danny slurred, sulking. “I knew her first.”

“You don’t know the half of it, young Daniel,” Greg growled. “I got to sleep with her.”

“Yeah, rub it in,” Danny pouted.

“No man, like we loved each other, had wild sex and we really had something going. I left my wife for Gina and she didn’t even want me anymore ‘cause she had the troll. That, my friend, is pain.”

“Still, you got to sleep with her.”

“I did,” Greg nodded, letting a slow smile creep over his face. “And a huge therapy bill. That’s a marriage counselor on top of the therapy I need for nearly dying all these times.”

“Well you’ve got a wife at least, that’s gotta be nice.”

“It is,” Greg nodded. “A lot of the time. Won’t be nice when I get back home though.” He took a sip at his drink. “Must be drunk, I wanna call her.”

“You know she’s having sex right now.”

“My wife?”

“No. Well I dunno, maybe?” Danny paused to smirk at Greg’s distressed face. “I meant Gina.”

“Fenny too.”

Danny nodded and gook a hearty gulp straight from the bottle. “Next time we get kidnapped, I wanna girl. I want kinky adventure sex. I miss it.”

“Now’s probably not a good time to remind you that we’re gonna have to share a room.” Greg raised an eyebrow. “I mean I like you and everything Dan…”

“There’s not enough tequlia in all of Mexico,” Danny grumbled and took another swig.