Episode 24: "Family Matters"

Summary: Ringo's family troubles reach a climax when Pat Doyle returns to town, just as his father makes a surprise visit. Dash is forced to re-evaluate her life after receiving an offer too good to refuse.

Part 1

Lyrics come from "Bring Me Back" and "Don't Love Too Long" by The Whitlams, "My Little Town" by Meredith Brooks and "You're Beautiful" by James Blunt.

The music almost seemed the bounce around the Imperial Hotel, carrying with it the bubbly, cheery voices of the police officers inside. Several helium-filled balloons bobbed up and down near the ceiling, long light-coloured streamers hanging down and brushing the tops of their heads. Except for Nick, who was constantly batting them away as they got in his face.

As Dash entered, Adam and Phoebe tagging along behind her, she did a little spin in approval of the music. "Ah!" she cried as she clutched the wrapped present tighter to her chest. "The Whitlams! Very nice!" She quickly caught sight of Amy and bounded over to the older woman.

Amy was sitting at the public bar, chatting easily with Chris. The two were apparently in the middle of a very amusing joke when Dash grabbed Amy tightly, pulling her into a rib-crushing hug. "Happy birthday, birthday girl!" she exclaimed.

Half-heartedly attempting to free herself from Dash's grip, Amy found herself laughing. Her emerald eyes glimmered as the younger officer finally pulled away and offered forth her gift. "You shouldn't have," she told her pointedly, before turning to Chris with a shaking head. "None of you should have."

"Rubbish!" Chris replied, folding her arms as she leaned forward for a better look at Amy's present. "You aren't getting away with not celebrating your birthday in this town. You managed to escape a party last year, but we won't let that happen ever again."

Amy rolled her eyes as she looked up to Adam, who was cradling a fidgety Phoebe in his arms. She was really getting too big to be held these days, she realised as her grin broadened, but she decided not to say so. It was obvious that Adam was attempting to make up for the years he had missed out on and she wasn't going to take that away from him. "Thanks, Adam."

"Don't thank me," he told her with a shrug. "Dash chose the present. Just don't blame me if you don't like it."

"It'll be fine, I'm sure," she reassured him as she finally looked down to the present in her hands. It was rectangular in shape and fairly thin. The paper was beautiful – a deep night-sky blue that was dotted with little white stars. It was wrapped with a baby-blue ribbon that had been tied into an elaborate bow and a small white envelope had been slipped underneath. She retrieved the envelope and read through the card quickly before pulling the ribbon loose and carefully pulling back the paper. Sitting within the paper was a DVD – the film Life is Beautiful. "Thanks…" she gasped.

Dash suddenly became a little uneasy. "Yeah," she explained with a nervous smile. "I couldn't really decide what to get you, so I figured that maybe a movie would be the way to go…" At Amy's stunned silence, her nervous smile quickly faded. "I mean…if you don't like, I could take it back…"

"No, no!" Amy exclaimed, finally looking up as tiny tears glistened in her eyes. "I love it! I saw this film when it first came out and I've always been meaning to buy the video or DVD. Thank you." With this, she carefully set the book and wrapping paper on the public bar and offered Dash a grateful hug. "It's perfect."

At this moment, the door opened again and this time Mark Jacobs entered, a small violet-coloured bag hanging from his right hand. His gaze shot to Chris quickly before he headed over to join Amy, Dash and Adam. As Dash pulled away from Amy, Mark craned his neck to have a look at the DVD.

"I saw that once," he commented thoughtfully. "It's not bad."

Laughing weakly, Dash motioned off towards the pool table, where PJ, Nick, Zoe and Ringo were bickering over what appeared to be a very contentious game. "We'd better go referee that match, Adam," she told him. "The last thing we need is a bar brawl on Amy's birthday."

As Dash and Adam headed off, Phoebe still squirming in her father's arms, Mark invited himself to sit down beside Amy. Chris offered the pair a smile before slipping away to the dining room, leaving the two alone. "So…" Mark began with chuckle. "Feeling any older?"

Amy frowned thoughtfully, before shaking her head. "Not really," she replied. "Turning thirty-four is actually a lot easier than turning thirty-three was. Then again, I've had a much better day than I did last year." Mark nodded in understanding. Feeling a little uneasy with the direction the discussion was taking; Amy began eyeing off the bag in Mark's hand. "So…do I get that present or not?"

"Oh, of course!" Mark told her, offering the bag out to Amy. She took it eagerly and gently lifted out what was inside. It was a pair of purple and blue long stripy socks.

A slightly perplexed expression crossed her face. "Oh…Boss…they're…"

Mark was laughing when she looked back up to him. He shook his head as PJ finally abandoned the pool game and came over, raising his eyebrows at the socks in Amy's hands. "Socks?" PJ queried, taking them from Amy's hands.

"I'm still getting you guys back for that Christmas," he explained as he climbed to feet, just as Chris returned. Instantly, Chris started laughing. She clearly remembered the Christmas that every officer had given Mark socks.

Amy's lips twisted into a smile as she took the socks back from PJ. They were soft and would probably be very comfortable. "Thanks Mark," she told him as he headed off to check in with the other officers. As soon as Mark had gone, PJ sat down on his stool. "I guess it's the thought that counts," she told PJ as she sat the socks back in the bag and placed it next to the DVD Dash had given her.

"Shame it's such a horrible thought," PJ replied.

Laughing, Amy hit him in the arm before a misty smile crossed her face. "It's been a weird year," she mused.

PJ snickered. "That's putting it lightly," he told her as his face attained the same misty quality as Amy's had. "Have you heard from Brendan?"

She groaned quietly as her smile faded completely and she covered her face in her hands. "Then again, I don't think we've changed that much," she mumbled. "I could have sworn we had this discussion a year ago…" He looked at her pointedly until she finally lowered her hands. "Not today," she replied. "Last time I spoke to him was a couple of weeks ago when he said that he and Chloe couldn't make the wedding."

"Do you think he's alright?" PJ asked her. She shrugged in reply.

"I don't know," she told him dismally, shaking her head. "I hope he is. I don't know if he's really thought much about the first anniversary of Megan's death. I was going to call him, but then Dash physically dragged me down here…"

PJ nodded, reaching out to close his hand around hers. He raised it to his lips, kissing it tenderly. The romantic gesture brought a bright smile across her face. "It'll be okay," he reassured her softly as he let his lips slowly move along her arm. "If Brendan's got even a fraction of your strength, he'll be more than okay."

Amy chuckled weakly, trying to hide the red blush in her face. Silence hung in the air for a long moment as they sat there, enjoying the electricity between them and listening to the song playing on Chris' CD player.

You can see that I'm trying

But it doesn't come easily to me

The door to the public bar opened so silently that even Chris didn't notice until the sound of a man's voice echoed throughout the Imperial. "It's bloody freezing out there!"

PJ's head snapped up, his eyes widening with the voice's familiarity. He spun towards the door, his face lighting up as the figure in the doorway slipped out of his thick brown jacket and moved into the public bar.

"Pat!" PJ exclaimed, only remembering at the last second to lower his voice. Ringo was just metres away and still thought of Pat as the criminal his father had described. Suddenly, PJ found himself wondering if Pat even knew that Ringo existed. He reached out to Pat, quite uncertain of the appropriate way to greet him, only to find the question answered when Pat wrapped his arms around him.

"It's good to see you back on your feet again," Pat told him, clapping PJ's back firmly. By the time he eventually pulled away from PJ, Amy had joined them, a nervous smile upon her lips. Things had changed so much since they'd last met that she didn't have a clue what to say. Finally, Pat spoke up for her as he reached out to shake her hand kindly. "It feels like it's been forever since I saw you."

Amy looked down to her feet for a moment, before looking up to offer Pat a bright smile. A sideways glance at PJ told her that he was happy to have Pat back in town, if not a little concerned about their youngest colleague. "Likewise," she replied, pulling her hand away from Pat's as she hurriedly pushed strands of her fringe back from her eyes.

"Anyway," Pat continued, laying his jacket over Chris' bar, earning himself a scowl from the red-headed publican in the process. "Looks like you guys are having a party. What's the occasion?"

Almost instantly, PJ was at Amy's side, slipping his hand around hers. "It's Amy's birthday," he explained.

Pat grinned as his gaze switched from PJ to Amy. "Ah…" he told them with a laugh. "Well, happy birthday then, Amy. Hopefully I'm not too late to get a decent slice of that cake." With this, he cast a hopeful glance at Chris, who simply shook her head as a smile crept across her lips.

"You're just in time to amaze us all with your singing abilities when we cut the cake," she replied, gesturing back towards the kitchen. "Jeannie's just putting the finishing touches on it now."

Pat grinned as he flopped down on a bar stool and passed a hand across his eyes. PJ's face suddenly registered concern. "Are you alright? You must be exhausted…"

"Don't be stupid," Pat snapped in response, lowering his hand as he regarded PJ. "I drove the caravan; I didn't push it." He chuckled momentarily at his own joke, before clearing his throat. "I'm just trying to defrost," he explained. "It's very easy to forget how bloody cold Victoria is when you've spent the last three months in Queensland."

"Patrick bloody Doyle!" Nick's voice rang out over the public bar as he sauntered over to the gathering, beer glass in his hand. He clapped Pat on the shoulder as he took up a stool next to him. "How is life as one of the grey nomads?"

Pat looked to Nick, for a brief moment surprised. He'd only met Nick on a handful of occasions and he'd very quickly forgotten what his sense of humour was like. "Nick Schultz," he grumbled, shaking his head in disbelief. "So you're still here."

Nick grinned cheekily as the others began to abandon their game. "You see mate, I'm like a really bad cold – they just can't get rid of me."

"Ain't that the truth," Dash added, shifting Phoebe's weight in her arms as she drew level with Nick. Adam stood behind her, smiling weakly at the sight of Pat. "It's good to see you again, Pat."

From behind Zoe, Ringo paled. He didn't need to ask who Pat was. Something about the middle-aged man that his colleagues gathered around with strangely familiar, almost subconsciously familiar. It almost scared him. He was finally coming face to face with the uncle who he had heard so much about.

Pat looked up, originally hoping to greet the others. Instead, his eyes immediately darted to the young man behind them, the man whose face was almost ghostly pale and whose emerald eyes were glistening with horror. He knew the face instantly, although he'd never laid eyes upon this man before.

His mouth dropped open as his mind finally formulated a name. "Oh my God…" he mumbled, his lips moving so little that the words were hardly audible. Realising what had happened, Amy and PJ shared a worried glance before looking to Ringo.

Ringo had already disappeared, his footsteps echoing from the staircase in the silence of the public bar.

Nick frowned, drawing himself up to his full height as he surveyed the expression of shock on Pat's face and the expression of concern that Amy and PJ wore. "Someone want to enlighten me as to what the hell's going on?"

"No," PJ answered quickly, shaking his head. "No, we don't."

The awkwardness hovered for a long moment, until Mark cleared his throat loudly. "I, ah, think that pool game deserves a conclusion, don't you guys?" he told the others pointedly. Despite the fact that Nick, Dash, Adam and Zoe were clearly more interested in whatever had upset Ringo and Pat so badly, they nodded in agreement with Mark and reluctantly followed him back to the pool table.

Chris gently patted PJ's shoulder, causing him to spin to her in surprise. "You can take the Parlour, if you'd like," she told him as she nodded towards the closed door. "Is Ringo going to be alright?"

"I honestly don't know," PJ replied simply as Amy began leading Pat towards the Parlour. Almost as an afterthought, he turned back to Chris. "Thanks, mate."

She offered him a hesitant smile in return. "No problem," she mumbled, more for her benefit than PJ's. As soon as the trio were gone, a perplexed expression crossed her face. She'd often wondered about where she'd known Ringo's face from, and it seemed that she was starting to get a few more pieces to try to fit in the puzzle.

Amy helped Pat into one of the lounge chairs of the Parlour as PJ closed the door behind them. The shell-shocked look still hadn't left Pat's face; if anything, he looked close to tears. His hands trembled slightly and it was several minutes before Pat's mind had cleared sufficiently for him to try to stop them. "Who the bloody hell is that kid?" he demanded finally, his voice scarcely more than a hoarse whisper.

Sitting down on the chair next to Pat, PJ pressed his palm to his mouth for a few seconds, before finally daring himself to reply. "His name is Ringo Barnett," he explained. "He's…he's our Probationary Constable. He's been with us for a few months now."

Pat's eyes widened with the name and his gaze switched quickly from PJ to Amy, who was sitting uneasily in the chair opposite. "Barnett…" he mused, shaking his head in disbelief. "Not…"

Amy nodded slowly. "Louis Barnett's kid," she finished for him. "Yeah, he is. Youngest of four, from what I've heard."

"Four?!" Pat demanded, nearly leaping off his chair in surprise. Almost as quickly, he sank back down. "Jesus, four of them…"

PJ waited for a long moment before he dared himself to speak. When he had finally mustered the courage, he found that all he had was a whisper. "We know about your sister, about Vicky."

Pat glared at PJ harshly for a few seconds, before his anger subsided and the stunned shock returned. "I haven't spoken to her since the day she told me she was marrying that bastard," he explained, not moving as he spoke. "We used to be so close…we did almost everything together. She may have been a woman, but Vicky was more like one of the boys than some of the blokes were."

Amy let a weak smile grace her lips. "How did this happen?"

For almost a minute, Pat couldn't reply. The words simply wouldn't come to express the agony of a past he'd thought long forgotten. Finally, he spoke in a voice that wavered and broke. "She fell in love with Louis Barnett," he replied with a shrug as tears began to cloud his eyes. "Suddenly everything was different."

Over the years our thoughts were the same

Then in a minute she changed

PJ shook his head in confusion. "Why?" he asked, his eyes narrowed in bewilderment. "Why would Vicky falling in love with Louis have made any difference to your bond? She was your little sister, you were her big brother. No relationship should have changed that."

Pat looked at PJ sadly for a long moment, before shaking his head. "Has there ever been anyone that you've truly hated? Anyone who has hurt you so much that nothing they can ever do can ever even come close to fixing it?"

"Of course," PJ answered quickly. "But…but Vicky was still your sister. What could Louis Barnett have done that was so bad that you would rather cut your ties with your sister than see him?"

An uneasy silence hovered over the Parlour, until Pat finally sighed and let his head fall back against the chair in despair. "He got away with murder," he finally told them, his voice sounding agonised with the pain of the memory.

It was several minutes before Amy could speak. "Got away with murder?" she queried, shaking her head in confusion. "What…what do you mean?" Even as she spoke, she wasn't certain that she wanted to hear the answer. She'd had enough close calls with murderous police officers to last a lifetime.

Pat looked at her thoughtfully, before turning to face PJ's inquisitive stare. "We used to work together," he explained, "back when we were young. Tom Croydon was there too." He paused, before shaking his head firmly. "Look, it doesn't matter. It's over now."

With this, Pat climbed to his feet, despite the blank stares of PJ and Amy. As he passed on the way to the door, his arm was grabbed by PJ. "Mate, you can't tell us that and then just walk away," he pointed out. "What's going on?"

Pat didn't reply to PJ's question. Instead, he let a low growl escape his lips. "Let…me…go…"

Surprised by the aggressive tone in Pat's voice, PJ relinquished his grip almost instantly. He still vividly remembered the night Pat had killed Mick – he wasn't stupid enough to anger a man who had been capable of that, no matter how much he looked up to him.

Released from PJ's grasp, Pat slipped out the door of the Parlour and back out to the others, who were waiting for him with perplexed expressions on their faces. Amy and PJ didn't move for a long moment, before Amy finally looked to her fiancé with an exasperated smile gracing her lips. "So much for a happy birthday," she told him quietly.

PJ returned her half-hearted smile as he slowly climbed to his feet and crossed the Parlour to her. As soon as her hand was within arm's reach, he slipped her hand into his. "We'll work this out," he reassured her weakly. "Pat Doyle's a stubborn old bastard and Ringo isn't necessarily the most talkative bloke in the world, but we'll work it out. We'll fix this."

Uncertain of what to say, Amy simply tightened her grip on PJ's hand. She quickly lowered her eyes, not brave enough to let them meet PJ's lest he see what she was really thinking. As much as she cared about Pat and PJ's understandable obsession with the Doyles, it worried her because, deep down, she was worried that PJ might just be swallowed whole by it all.

It was almost an hour before Chris decided she was brave enough to head upstairs to Ringo's pub room. The party spirit had died after Pat's arrival, so much so that the cake cutting had been a very sombre affair, rather than the celebration it should have been. They'd all finally headed home, with Pat deciding he'd rather camp out in his caravan again rather than face the young Probationary Constable at the pub.

Reaching Ringo's door, Chris paused, her hand hovering over the door knob. She had no doubt that Ringo hadn't bothered locking the door. He never did – he trusted her too much to consider locking her out an option. But she felt rude for even considering the possibility of barging in on him, so knocked instead. "Ringo?"

Ringo's reply was almost instantaneous. "Please go away," he groaned, his voice muffled by what Chris could only assume was his pillow.

Chris shook her head, leaning against the door as her voice became pleading. "Can I please come in?" she asked. Almost as an afterthought, she remembered the bag of chips under her arm. "I've got a packet of salt and vinegar chips we can share…"

For almost a minute, Ringo remained silent, before he eventually spoke again. "Come in. The door's not locked."

Chris invited herself inside, closing the door silently behind her. She moved hesitantly towards Ringo's bed, where he was lying on his stomach with his face buried in his navy pillow slip. He didn't look up as she perched herself on the edge of his bed and opened the chip packet. Without a word to Ringo, she began to eat.

"I must admit, I can't really understand what you see in salt and vinegar chips," she told him, finally breaking the silence several seconds later. Her mouth was still full as she spoke. "It's a bit too strong for my tastes." Ringo still didn't reply, so Chris finally sat the chips next to his pillow and let a frustrated sigh escape her lips. "Even that cousin of yours wasn't this cryptic."

Ringo sat bolt upright, the speed of his motion knocking the open packet of chips to the floor next to his bed. He stared at Chris in alarm, his breathing suddenly very fast. "How did you…" he began, his voice gasping and high-pitched. "Did…did PJ…"

She shook her head. "Nah," she replied with a soothing smile, hoping the gesture would help ease Ringo's nerves. It helped a little. "PJ didn't need to tell me anything. I've been working it out ever since I first met you. I knew I knew that face of yours from somewhere…it just took a little while for it to click. I took an educated guess as to how you were related to Maggie. Pat is your mother's brother, right?"

An uneasy, yet amazed, smile crossed Ringo's lips. "You're amazing, you know that," he told her. "You ought to be a detective. You'd give Amy and PJ a run for their money."

Chris chuckled. "Yeah," she laughed. "Maggie used to tell me that, too." She paused, realising how uneasy the reference to his cousin was. "I gather that you and Pat aren't on good terms."

He stared at her pointedly. "It's not just that," he told her with tears brimming at he corners of his eyes. "I don't even know him. Tonight was the first time I've ever laid eyes upon him. All I know of him is what PJ and my father have told me and…and it's all pretty conflicting stuff."

"Conflicting?" Chris frowned in confusion.

Ringo sighed thoughtfully. "PJ worked out who I was on my first day. He told me a little about Pat. He…he told me about how good he was to his kids and…and how good a father-in-law he would have made. But, my dad…he's told me all this completely different stuff about how much of a low-life he is and…and how he wrecked his kids."

Chris' eyes widened in horror as tears began to slide silently down her cheeks. She found herself being taken back in time to when Maggie was alive, remembering all the times she'd spent with her old friend. "Wrecked his kids?" she repeated slowly, all the while not entirely sure she wanted to hear what Louis Barnett had said about Maggie and her brothers.

Ringo nodded, the hesitance in his face reflecting his realisation of how much this topic was hurting Chris. "He…ah…he used to tell me about how Pat had let one of his sons get onto heroin and…and how he'd let the other one get so involved in corruption that he killed his sister." Ringo was barely able to choke the last word out. He'd never met Maggie Doyle before in his life, but the way Chris pressed her hand to her mouth in a desperate attempt to stop sobs tore at his heart. "Dad…Dad said that the only half-decent Doyle was Maggie and…and that…that Pat killed her just as surely as if he'd shot her himself."

Chris couldn't hear anymore. She began shaking her head determinedly. "No," she mumbled, lowering her hand. She fixed Ringo with a firm stare. "Your Dad doesn't know. He doesn't bloody know anything. He never knew Maggie. He can't have even known Pat very well if that's how lowly he thinks of him." A quiet sob escaped her lips as she desperately tried to comb her curls back from her cheeks. "I saw the whole Doyle saga play out in this town, Ringo. Your Dad's got it all wrong."

Ringo stared at her, silently begging her to continue. When she didn't, he spoke quietly to urge her on. "What was it like, then?" he asked. "What did happen?"

She looked to him, her firm stare slowly fading to something softer and closer to the Chris that he knew well. "It's a long story, Ringo," she explained, reaching out to comb back strands of his short brown hair from his eyes. "I can't try to tell you everything. It's simply too involved. But…but Pat…he loved his kids. He loved them so much. Yes, he made some mistakes. All parents make mistakes, but…he loved them, Maggie especially. And he loved Maggie so much. It was hard not to love Maggie. She was my best friend for six years. She used to live here, at the pub. In this room, if memory serves me right."

A strange look passed across Ringo's face and he looked down to the bed beneath them as his cheeks paled. "This was Maggie's bed?" he asked quietly.

Chris nodded. "Yeah," she replied softly. "Not for years, though. She moved out after a few months, but…she was simply beautiful. And not just on the outside. She was so kind and loving and friendly." Pausing, her smile became distant and thoughtful. "You remind me of her. I mean, other than you being male and not having blonde hair. She would have liked you."

Ringo's lips twisted into a strange kind of smile. "You think so?"

"Yeah," she told him with a smile. "I do." She paused, before finally chuckling as the split packet of salt and vinegar chips caught her eye. "I'm going to have to clean that up now," she told him with a laugh that somehow smoothly closed the last conversation.

His eyes darted to the chips, before quickly becoming apologetic. "I'm really sorry," he offered, "I…I can clean that up, if you want…"

"Don't be silly," Chris replied with a laugh as she climbed to her feet. "I can clean up a packet of chips on my own. I'm not entirely useless."

Smiling, Ringo sat back into his pillows, watching as Chris quickly tidied up the chips back into the packet and sat it on his bedside table. Sitting back down on the bed, she looked to him pointedly. He stared at her in bewilderment. "Well?" Chris told him, nodding towards the chips. "Are you going to get a new packet or what? I cleaned up the first, you can go get the second."

Ringo laughed for a moment, before finally nodding and heading towards the door. Half-way there, he stopped and turned back towards her. "Ah, Chris?" he began. She looked up at the sound of her name, her eyes narrowed in puzzlement. Ringo's smile broadened as he spoke again before leaving. "Thank you."

It was barely light out when PJ slipped inside the pub, his black leather jacket pulled tightly around his torso and a matching warm woollen scarf wrapped around his neck. He looked around the public bar hesitantly, his tired face only forming a smile when he caught sight of Chris warming her hands on a steaming cup of coffee. She looked up at his entrance, offering him a smile. "Morning, Peej."

"Morning, Chrissie," he replied, his shivering subsiding slightly as he joined Chris at the nearby table. "It's like a bloody freezer out there," he told her with a laugh.

Chris returned the favour as she took a sip of her coffee. "Well, it is Victoria, PJ," she reminded him. "And it's nearly winter. Sometimes you've got to wonder about this country. It's either boiling hot or freezing cold. Never anything in between."

PJ grinned before looking away, leaning back in his chair as his mind began drifting back to the previous night. "Did Pat end up staying here last night?" he asked, his voice carrying the slightest hint of hope.

Chris studied PJ for a moment, before shaking her head. "Unfortunately, no," she replied with a sigh. "He probably spent the night in that caravan of his."

Sighing dejectedly, PJ sank forward so his chin was resting in the palm of his hand. "I was hoping he'd stayed here," he told her dismally. "The way he was last night…well, let's just say that I wouldn't have been surprised what he might have done."

"He wasn't the only one either," Chris added, taking another sip of her coffee. At the worried look on PJ's face, she continued. "Ringo was distraught. I barely managed to get him to calm down. The poor guy's so confused…he's been fed all these conflicting stories about the Doyles. There's this whole part of his heritage that he can't come to terms with."

PJ nodded thoughtfully, burying his face in his hands momentarily. It was several seconds before he could face Chris again. "How did you get him to calm down?"

Chris smiled, her eyes attaining a misty quality as she spoke. "I told him about Maggie," she replied with a shrug. "He seemed very receptive. Whatever that father of his has told him, I think Ringo really wants to know the truth about his mother's family."

By the time Chris was finished, PJ's face was back in his hands. His voice was little more than a mumble as he spoke. "Louis Barnett has a lot to answer for," he grumbled. "Feeding his kids lies, plus whatever Pat was going on about last night."

"What?" Chris' eyes lit up as she let her mind consider PJ's words. "What did Pat say last night?"

PJ's head snapped up as he suddenly realised what he'd said. Leaping to his feet, he tidied his jacket and scarf. "Look," he told her as he hurried towards the door back out into the car park, "it doesn't matter. I've got to run. Amy's already at the station and there's still a million and one wedding things to organise…" He paused in the doorway, turning back to see that Chris had followed him and was staring up at him in disbelief. "See you later, Chrissie," he told her in farewell, disappearing outside before Chris could coordinate herself to stop him.

As PJ returned to the CI office, he found Amy sitting at her desk, letting the curling steam from her coffee waft up over her face. A smile spread slowly across his face as he planted a tender kiss upon her cheek. Smiling weakly, Amy batted him away. "Come on, Peej," she told him with a half-laugh. "If I don't get this report done, then there will be no honeymoon."

Pulling away, PJ made a sound of disbelief before chuckling himself. "Oh, alright," he said as he flopped down in his office chair. "Just this once."

Amy let her smile broaden slightly before her gaze darted back down to her desk. Pushing the coffee aside carefully, she grabbed a folder from the corner of her desk and began going through its contents. Without looking up, she spoke again. "How was Ringo?"

PJ sat back in his chair with a sigh, intertwining his fingers behind his head. "Chris said he'd been pretty upset. Can't say I blame him. This is a horrible situation for anyone to be in." He frowned, his eyes narrowing in distraction. "I can't stop thinking about what Pat said…"

Amy's hand froze and she looked up, pushing strands of her fringe back from her eyes. "About Louis Barnett getting away with murder?" she asked. At PJ's silent nod of confirmation, she sat forward, biting her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I already checked his record. There's no mention of anything like that at all. Officially, the worst thing he's ever done is accidentally dent a patrol car when he was a Probationary Constable."

PJ's frown deepened. "Unofficially…" he probed, watching as a half-smile crossed Amy's face.

She grabbed the closed laptop sitting on the corner of her desk and opened it. Within seconds, she had brought something up on the screen and was gesturing for PJ to come around to her side of the desks. Puzzled, he climbed to his feet and moved to stand behind Amy's shoulder.

On the screen was a newspaper article. It was old and yellowed with creases evident. Clearly, someone had scanned it in to send to Amy. PJ shook his head in bewilderment. "It's an old newspaper article," he told her, shrugging. "So?"

"So," Amy began, turning to face him. "In 1972, two officers were on duty. Louis Barnett…"

PJ had started scanning the article and had already found the other name. "And Patrick Doyle," he added, receiving a nod from Amy in confirmation. Continuing to read the article, PJ continued. "Another officer was shot…" Suddenly, horror passed through PJ's face. "Oh God…"

Amy nodded. "Louis Barnett shot another police officer, but claimed he thought it was a murderer that the plainclothes were after," she explained. "So…"

PJ paled instantly. "So either Louis Barnett made an honest mistake…" he mused, burying his face in his hands. "Or Pat's right and he got away with murder."

Morning had well and truly dawned over Mt. Thomas by the time Dash walked into the police station, desperately trying to stuff the last of her muesli bar into her mouth. Nick was already sitting at his desk, reading what appeared to be an Agatha Christie novel under the guise of reading a report. She sniggered as she headed over to her desk.

Nick looked up, hurriedly slamming the report – and hidden novel – closed. "You're late," he grumbled, annoyed more at being caught out than at Dash's tardiness.

"Sorry," Dash replied, chuckling at the expression on her Sergeant's face. "Phoebe's got a bit of a cold and didn't want to get out of bed this morning. It took Adam and I nearly an hour to get her ready to go to Charlie's…"

Nick let the tiniest of grins spread across his face. He knew precisely what kids could be like when they were sick. The twins were torture when they had a paper cut, let alone a cold. But as Dash looked up, he let the smile fade quickly. He wasn't about to let Deidre know that he wasn't as much of a bully as he made himself out to be. "We're one member down this morning," he explained as he shuffled the papers on his desk, still trying to hide his novel. "Chris rang. Ringo's not feeling well."

Dash frowned, staring at Nick in confusion. "He seemed alright last night," she pointed out. "Well, until Pat Doyle showed up, then he just disappeared…"

Nick made a sound of agreement as he stopped shuffling the papers momentarily. He met Dash's eyes hesitantly. "I get the feeling that Pat and Ringo know each other," he told her quietly. "And I know for a fact that PJ and Amy, if not Chris as well, know exactly what's going on." Dash opened her mouth to reply, but stopped when the phone on Nick's desk started ringing. He groaned loudly, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the receiver. "That'd be just our bloody luck," he mumbled, "Foxtrot and Patrick are too busy trying to plan the wedding of the century, Starry's having a mental health day and we're going to have a crime wave."

Almost instantly, the joking expression disappeared from Nick's face and was replaced instead by one of bewilderment. "Ah, yes…yes, I can get her for you. I believe Deidre's sitting right in front of me…"

At the sound of her name, Dash sat up a little straighter. Her mind started whirring at top speed, trying to work out who would be calling her at work. She only had two possibilities – Adam and Charlie – and she got the feeling that either would be bad news. She was only drawn away from her thoughts when Nick offered the phone to her.

"I have a Detective Sergeant Callum Hartley from Shepparton CID wanting to speak to a Senior Constable Deidre McKinley," he told her with a smile. "You haven't been off getting yourself into trouble, have you?"

Dash blinked in surprise before taking the phone, raising it to her ear as Nick picked up a rather thick folder and headed off to the mess room, no doubt to continue reading the Agatha Christie novel concealed within.

It was nearly lunchtime before Chris saw Pat again. She'd just finished shooing Compo Hayes out of the public bar when Pat walked in, the large bags under his eyes betraying the fact that he hadn't slept properly. As he realised that Chris had seen him, he offered her a weak smile. "Hello, Chrissie."

Chris eyed him for a long moment, not sure whether to welcome him warmly or have a go at him for last night. In the end, she chose neither. "Come through to the Parlour," she told him, nodding towards it. "Ringo might thank me for keeping it private."

Pat nodded and followed Chris into the Parlour. He closed the doors behind him before speaking. "I never thought Vicky would seriously go through with it…"

Confusion spread through Chris' face. "Go through with what?"

"Naming her kids after the Beatles," Pat replied. "I mean, if that kid was Ringo, then I'm assuming that there's a John, a Paul and a George to go with him."

Chris offered Pat a hesitant smile. She opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind. Ringo had told her about his siblings, but she wasn't about to break her promise to him. "I should let Ringo tell you that," she pointed out. She paused, before realisation spread across her face. "You are going to speak to him at some stage, aren't you?"

Pat stared at Chris for a long moment, before finally shrugging and flopping down in one of the chairs. "I don't know," he confessed quietly. "Part of me wonders if I should just get back in that caravan and get as far away from this town as possible. It hasn't exactly been a lucky charm for us Doyles."

"What about the wedding?" Chris demanded, her voice growing surprisingly soft. "PJ and Amy really want you there. And there is no way in hell that I'm letting you walk out of this town while Ringo is more confused than ever."

"Last night was the first time I've ever laid eyes upon that kid," Pat confided, shaking his head in despair. "But I recognised him instantly. He…he looks too much like his mother to be anyone else's son. If I didn't know Louis Barnett was his father, I would never have picked the connection."

Chris slipped across the Parlour to Pat, crouching down before him so that their eyes were level. "You have to talk to him, Pat," she pleaded gently. "He's the only family you've got left."

Pat shook his head as he tried to climb to his feet and push past Chris. "It doesn't matter…"

"Yes, it does!" Chris replied, pushing Pat back down into his chair with surprising ease. "Family does matter, you know it does. All Ringo wants is to understand, to come to terms with his heritage. You can call it destiny, or you can call it coincidence, but he's somehow ended up in the one town where he can get that understanding. You are going to give it to him, if not for his sake, then for your own." Rising to her feet, Chris offered him a determined smile. "Now I am going to talk Ringo into having dinner with you tonight and you are going to clear the air. Is that understood?"

Pat nodded slowly, a bit surprised by the protective tone in Chris' voice. He didn't dare argue with the fiery redhead when she was using that voice.

Darkness had fallen over Mt. Thomas before Ringo had managed to get up the courage to go downstairs. The usual night crowd had started to arrive at the pub, clustering around their usual tables. Only a few people were sitting alone, including the one man Chris had convinced him to meet. Pat Doyle was sitting in a secluded corner, staring out the window and following the lights of the traffic with his gaze as he tapped the sides of his beer glass with his fingertips.

Ringo moved reluctantly to join him, only to be stopped by Chris' warm fingers wrapping around his wrist. He turned back to face her as she spoke. "Give him a chance," she told him in a soft and reassuring whisper. "He's made mistakes, but he's not a bad person. Don't judge him until you've gotten his side of the story."

He nodded slowly in response to Chris' advice and carefully pulled his wrist free. Cautiously, he approached Pat. The older man didn't even realise he was there until he spoke. "Ah…hello," he said in greeting, forcing an uneasy smile onto his face. He didn't really know what to say. He didn't even know what to call the man sitting before him. Pat was his uncle, but Uncle Pat didn't sound right. Not for someone he'd never met before.

Pat looked up, as if startled from a daydream. He smiled weakly at Ringo before chuckling nervously. "Ah, sit down, sit down," he told him, gesturing to the chair opposite. Tentatively, Ringo eased himself into the chair. Pat looked down to his beer, frowning at it distractedly. Finally, he found himself speaking without even thinking. "A lot of shrinks would try to kill me for drinking at all," he mumbled. He looked up, almost smiling at the look of bewilderment on Ringo's face. He felt compelled to continue. "I used to be an alcoholic. I didn't really stop until Mags was killed."

Ringo sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Why do you drink now, then?" he asked, frowning a little as he spoke. He didn't really know why he was asking the question.

Pat shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted thoughtfully. "I guess I…I only drink when I'm in Mt. Thomas. And I limit myself. I don't have that desire to drink myself stupid anymore. I guess…I guess Maggie's murder was a wake-up call." Little tears sprung up in his eyes as he suddenly buried his face in his hands. "She said that the drink would kill me, then it would have destroyed her. I can't find much solace in something that Maggie hated me doing."

Ringo nodded slowly, shuffling his weight awkwardly. He didn't really know what to say or do and was only saved by Chris' timely intervention. She had left the bar and approached the table, a small notepad in hand. "So," she began, offering them a kind and surprisingly relaxing smile. "You guys want something to eat."

Chuckling nervously to hide his emotions, Pat raised his head from his hands. "Ah…I guess a steak will do my fine, Chrissie," he told her. "In all the places I've seen so far, I have yet to find a place that makes steaks anywhere near as nice as yours."

Chris laughed as she scribbled Pat's order down. "Flattery won't get rid of the bill, Pat," she replied, before turning to Ringo. "What about you?"

"Ah…same here, thank you Chris," he told her, offering her a weak smile. She returned his efforts in a sign of reassurance.

Chris nodded as she turned back to the bar. "I'll bring them over when they're ready," she explained. "You want a beer, Ringo?"

Ringo nodded to Chris before turning back to Pat, quite unable to meet his uncle's gaze. An uneasy silence hovered between them for several minutes, until Pat finally spoke again. "So you're a copper…" he began, shaking his head in disbelief. "How long?"

"I…I graduated from the Academy at the beginning of this year," he explained with a smile to Chris as she brought his beer over. The glass remained untouched as he continued to speak quietly and in a voice riddled with insecurity. "Mt. Thomas is my first posting."

Pat nodded as he downed a mouthful of his beer. "The others treating you alright?" he asked.

Ringo nodded quickly in reply. "They've all been great," he explained. "The Boss is a nice guy. He looks out for his team and is really friendly. The Sarge is a bit strange, he acts like a bully sometimes, but he's a bit of a softly. And Dash…she's probably my best friend."

"Dash McKinley," Pat mused, his smile broadening. "Maggie always knew she'd come back eventually." At this comment, Ringo stared at Pat in puzzlement. Pat chuckled and continued. "She and Maggie were best friends. They lived together at one stage. She used to talk about Dash a lot." Pat sighed. "I suppose she's all grown up now."

"Yeah," Ringo replied thoughtfully. "She is. She's got a three year old daughter, Phoebe." He paused, knowing full well what was going on. He and Pat were dancing around the real issues, hoping to keep this somewhat pleasant atmosphere going rather than tackle what really needed to be said. Finally, he braved himself to meet Pat Doyle's eyes. "Dad used to talk about you."

Pat looked away, massaging his temples in frustration. "It wasn't good stuff, I'm assuming."

Ringo shook his head slowly. "No," he admitted reluctantly. "He…he doesn't seem to like you at all."

Sighing, Pat finally looked up to Ringo, a little surprised at how comfortable he felt with his nephew. There was a quality to Ringo that made him feel as though he could tell him the truth. "Your father did something once that I couldn't forgive," he finally explained. "I could never forgive it. We had a falling out."

"Is that why you didn't speak to Mum again after she married him?" Ringo was surprised at himself as the question slipped out, so naturally that he didn't realise he was asking it until it was far too late. He went to apologise, but Pat was already answering it before he got the chance.

"To cut a long story short, yes," he replied, shaking his head at the memory. "In hindsight, I made a very big mistake that day. The day she told me she'd accepted your father's proposal, I…I saw red. I made her choose between me and him. I just assumed she'd pick me. We'd always been very close and I couldn't see why she'd turn her back on me, but she did. I gave her the ultimatum and she chose him."

Ringo paused, his expression thoughtful. "What did Dad do?" he asked, leaning across the table slightly. He was a little astonished at how easy being with Pat felt, now that they had started clearing the air.

Pat frowned, opening and closing his mouth several times before shaking his head. "There's no point in dragging it up now," he explained. "It's well and truly closed. That dog's been sleeping for a very long time. There's no point in waking it up now." Pat could see the disappointment in Ringo's eyes, but decided not to address it. Instead, he aimed for a different topic. "I still can't believe your mother named you after the Beatles."

Ringo looked up, confusion crossing his face at this new discussion. "What do you mean?"

"Your mother was a very big fan of the Beatles. Loved them," Pat explained with a laugh. "She owned every album they ever released. She practically worshipped them. I didn't understand why. The Beatles weren't really my cup of tea." His smile grew nostalgic as he spoke and Ringo could tell that he was in another place and time. "I was teasing her about it once, I ended up daring her to have four kids and name them all after the Beatles. I was surprised how seriously she took it. She even had female counterparts planned out, just in case she didn't have four boys. The only name she couldn't find a female version of was Ringo. She said that she'd just have to make sure that one of them was a boy."

Ringo nodded, thinking through Pat's story. "She took it that seriously?"

Pat nodded. "I always thought she'd go back on it," he pointed out. "But after I lost contact with her…I just assumed she would have forgotten all about that dare. But she didn't. Somehow, I can't see your father being too happy with that arrangement." At Ringo's shrug, Pat sighed thoughtfully and reached over to squeeze his nephew's hand kindly. "I wish I'd been the bigger person that day," he confessed. "If I had have been, you could have gotten a chance to know your cousins. I wrecked all of that."

Ringo opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when Chris appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, two plates balanced on her arms. "Here's your dinners," she told them cheerfully as she sat the plates on the table.

As the pair began to eat, Ringo felt a comfortable smile spread across his face. He got the feeling that he and Pat were going to get along fine.

Both Mark and Nick had already left when Dash finally switched off her overhead lamp, having finally given up on getting that traffic report finished. She'd been distracted ever since Nick had handed her the phone that morning and she knew that she would have been a disaster if a new case had come in. She couldn't keep her mind on anything for longer than a few seconds. Even Adam's phone call during his lunch break didn't do anything to perk her up.

She paused on her way to the mess room, noticing that Amy was sitting alone in the CI office, having what appeared to be a very heated phone conversation. As she walked towards the office door, she caught bits and pieces of Amy's rants and quickly realised that it was wedding related.

Amy's expression grew even more frustrated as she noticed Dash inviting herself into the office. She waved at Dash to remain silent as she gripped the phone's receiver tighter in anger. "Look," she snapped. "I have to go. I want this fixed, got it…I don't know how, I don't care how! Yes…goodbye." Dash tried to restrain laughter as Amy slammed the receiver back into place. At this, Amy shot her a cold death stare, only for it to relax seconds later. It was replaced by a look that was remarkably apologetic. "Sorry," she explained with a tired laugh. "That was the florist. Turns out that some idiot's ordered the wrong flowers. PJ and I asked for roses, and someone's managed to order in daffodils."

Dash offered Amy a grin, before her expression became one of realisation. "Oh, don't tell me you guys decided to go to Walter Cartwright's place!"

"Yeah…" Amy mumbled, staring at Dash blankly in reply. "We did. Why?"

The laugh that escaped Dash's lips was unmistakable. She shook her head in disbelief. "I went to school with that guy," she explained. "His father was in the flower business too. Walty's never been able to identify flowers properly. God only knows why his father left him the business. He's completely incompetent."

Amy's face contorted into an exasperated grin as she let her head sink forward. "Wish you'd told us that before," she mumbled as she sat back, combing strands of hair back behind her ear. Silence hovered between them for a few seconds, before Amy gestured vaguely in the direction of the mess room. "If you're looking for PJ, he's getting himself a sandwich…"

Dash's face became uneasy as she suddenly remembered why she had come to the CI office in the first place. "No," she replied, laughing to cover her nervousness. "No, you'll be just as good…"

"What?" Confusion spread across Amy's face as she sat forward.

Dash hurried around to PJ's chair and dragged it over so it was next to Amy's. She flopped down in it as she spoke. "How did you get into CI?" she asked, spinning the chair slightly with her foot.

Amy frowned, a little taken aback by the question. "Well," she began with a shrug. "I'd been promoted to Senior Constable a few weeks before when we had a major homicide case. My, ah…" She paused for a moment, not quite sure how to describe Lisa Craig to Dash. For some reason, describing her as what she really was, her foster mother, didn't seem quite right. "…my, ah, mentor was one of the detectives working on the case. They were run off their feet, so she recommended me. I guess plainclothes just agreed with me. I went to Detective Training School and…well, I guess the rest is history." As she watched Dash absorb her story, she narrowed her eyes in curiosity. "Why do you ask?"

Dash looked away, for a long moment unable to meet Amy's gaze. She finally looked up, a hint of nervousness in her eyes. "I got a call from Detective Sergeant Callum Hartley. Apparently he's the head of Shepparton CID."

"Yeah," Amy replied with a slow nod. "I think I've heard the name before. He's not a bad bloke. Why did he want to speak to you?" Almost as soon as the question left her lips, Amy realised the answer. "He offered you a job, didn't he?"

Dash nodded. "Yeah," she admitted. "He…he did."

Astonishment went through Amy's features. "He offered you a position in CI?" she asked, her voice rising in volume through her shock. "Have you been to Detective Training School?"

Again, Dash nodded. "In 1999, Monica Draper recommended me for a course."

"And you passed?"

"Yeah…by some miracle," Dash added with a half-smile. "People didn't seem to think I was ready. PJ and Tom certainly didn't, anyway." She sighed wistfully. "I left the force after my Mum was killed. I went travelling instead."

Amy offered Dash a reassuring smile. "They must think you're good," she pointed out. "They're willing to take you on ten years after you did the course and with no history in CI. Most people wouldn't get that sort of offer."

Dash remained silent for a long moment, before folding her arms on Amy's desk and slumping forward to let her chin rest on her forearms. "It's not the first time I've been made this sort of offer, either," she added.

Amy's eyes widened. "It's not?"

"No," Dash replied with a shake of her head. "When I first graduated from Detective Training School, Drug Squad wanted to take me on."

Amy made a sound as though she had been winded. The disbelief at that kind of offer being made to anyone was just too great. Sure, she had been accepted into the Organised Crime Squad at a young age and only a few months after entering CI, but she'd never heard of someone going straight into the Drug Squad after passing the exams. "That's…that's amazing, Dash, that really is," she pointed out. "You've really impressed someone in a high place."

Dash turned a bright shade of red before continuing. "After I rejoined the force, I didn't expect to be made an offer like that. I expected to be forced back to Detective Training School. Phoebe was three months old when I got made another offer."

"Who with?" Amy asked.

"St. Kilda CI," Dash explained. "I didn't believe it when they made me the offer. But I couldn't accept it. I was playing single mum to a three month old baby who didn't sleep properly and had colic. I'd had to go back to work earlier than I'd wanted to. It was hard enough managing the uniform workload with Phoebe, let alone CI. Besides, St. Kilda was hardly the place I wanted my daughter growing up in."

Amy nodded knowingly. She knew St. Kilda's reputation. "I don't blame you," she sympathised. "But Shepparton's a very different place to St. Kilda. I went there on holidays sometimes when I was a kid. It's a nice place."

"I know," Dash moaned, momentarily burying her head in her hands before lowering them to comb her fringe out of her face. "I just…I just don't know what to do. Mt. Thomas has always been home. I was born in this town; I grew up in this town. What little is left of my family is here. But…"

Amy leaned forward, smiling at Dash pointedly. She knew what was coming. "But…" she probed.

Frustration crossed Dash's face as she looked to Amy with tiny tears in her eyes. "I want to be a detective. I've always wanted to be a detective. One of the best days of my life was when I passed Detective Training School." A single tear slipped down her cheek as Amy reached out to squeeze her hand kindly. "I can see why women say balancing a career and family is too hard," she whispered, her voice close to sobs as more tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm on the brink of getting to exactly where I've always wanted to be in my career and…and I'm not sure what to do. Adam's got a great job at the hospital and…and I don't know if I can uproot Phoebe again."

The tears began to stream down Dash's creeks in earnest as Amy reached across, almost instinctively, to pull Dash into a hug. The younger brunette sobbed heavily into Amy's shoulder, while the detective gently tried to soothe her. "It'll be okay," she reassured her. "You'll work it out. You're not on your own anymore; you'll make the right choice for your family." As Dash pulled away, Amy found herself adding, "And for yourself as well."

Dash nodded, not entirely sure she believed Amy's reassurances, but knowing that she needed to get home. "I'd better go," she told her with a weak laugh. "Adam and Phoebe will be waiting for me." Dash slipped out of the CI office silently, disappearing out through the back entrance.

PJ returned to the CI office at that moment, impossibly quickly for someone who wasn't listening in. His gaze immediately fell upon the door Dash had left through as he raised his eyebrows. "Shepparton want Dash on as a detective," he mused.

Amy stared at him with wide eyes. "You were eavesdropping," she mumbled, turning her gaze away. "You bastard." Despite the fact that Amy's words should have been an insult, PJ could tell from her tone of voice that it was anything but. Setting his sandwich on his desk, he sat down on the chair Dash had left at Amy's side and began to let his lips run down Amy's neck tenderly. Amy rolled her eyes, but her wide grin betrayed her true feelings. "Oh, come on," she told him, half-heartedly trying to swat him away. "I can see right through your shameless attempt to suck up to me for forgiveness."

PJ didn't say anything in reply. Instead, he reached up to cup Amy's cheek within the palm of his hand and turned her head towards him. Within seconds, their lips had met and they were kissing, passionately and hungrily drawing each other in.

It was several minutes before Amy broke away, laughing breathlessly at what had just happened. "Alright, alright," she told him, hitting him on the arm playfully. "You eat your sandwich, I'll pack up here and we can resume that kissing at home."

PJ grinned. "I think we've got ourselves a deal," he replied, kissing her softly on the cheek before moving back to his sandwich.

The next morning dawned pleasantly over Mt. Thomas as Nick sat at his desk, a well-loved copy of Agatha Christie's A Murder is Announced in his hands. The rest of the officers hadn't shown up yet, but Nick was unconcerned. It was nothing unusual.

"Oh, Miss Marple!"

Nick swore loudly as Ringo's voice sounded from behind him. He slammed the novel shut quickly, stashing it in a drawer hurriedly. By the time he looked up, Ringo had already sat down at his desk and was stifling a chuckle. "Oh, very funny Starry," he grumbled. "You'll do that to a Sergeant with a heart condition one day and then you'll be sorry." Ringo's expression suddenly became very apologetic. As he opened his mouth to speak, Nick waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it," he pointed out. "Just don't tell the Boss that I'm reading on duty."

"No worries, Sarge," Ringo replied quickly. "I won't tell. Just as long as you promise to lend it to me when you're done. I love Agatha Christie; I haven't read that one though."

Nick nodded in agreement as he reopened the drawer and pulled out A Murder is Announced. For as long as Ringo was the only officer at the station, then he was going to keep reading.

Until the buzzer sounded.

Nick groaned loudly, slamming the book shut and throwing his arms up in despair. He let his head rest on his desk for a few seconds, until he heard the near inaudible curse leave Ringo's lips. The sound made his head shoot up so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash. He'd never heard Ringo swear before and the sound surprised him.

Ringo was staring up at the monitor that showed the reception area. Standing at the front desk, drumming his fingers impatiently, was a man Nick vaguely recognised. He was wearing a formal police uniform and was almost completely bald, save for a thin ring of dark hair running around his head. Looking increasingly disgruntled, the man buzzed again.

Nick climbed to his feet, stopping at Ringo's desk on his way to the front desk. "Who's he?" he asked quietly.

Ringo gulped as he lowered his head and busied himself with what little paperwork he hadn't kept up to date. "My father," he mumbled.

Nick raised an eyebrow at Ringo's reaction to the appearance of his father, but tried not to think anything of it. Instead, he simply opened the door out to the reception area and met the man at the desk. "Can I help you?" he asked, bracing himself on the desk casually. Now that he was closer, Nick could see the badge that Ringo's father wore with pride on his chest. Louis Barnett, Superintendent.

"Sharpen up, Schultz," Louis barked, looking Nick up and down disapprovingly. "This is a police station, not your lounge room."

Nick let his gaze drift down and immediately started cursing himself. His shirt was untucked, his hair was as unruly as ever and his jacket hung messily over his torso. Clearing his throat to try to hide his embarrassment, he fixed the shirt and jacket and tried to smooth his hair as best he could.

Louis nodded once Nick had done. "Better, Sergeant," he told him. As an uneasy silence fell, Louis rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Well?" he demanded. "Are you going to let me in or not?"

"Ah, yes, come through Superintendent…" Nick mumbled, lifting the swing-top counter to let Louis through. As he approached the door, he remembered Ringo's reaction to his father. He just hoped that by letting Louis into the muster room he wasn't about to start World War III.

Louis raised an eyebrow as he entered the muster room ahead of Nick and spun back to the much taller Sergeant. "This place is a pig sty, Sergeant."

Nick chuckled, hoping to diffuse the tension. "Don't be silly," he laughed. "We're nowhere near that organised." He chuckled again, hoping that it might just save his joke, but he knew that his humour had fallen very flat. And, looking around the muster room, he could sort of tell why Louis hadn't been overly impressed. Dash had a pile of paperwork that even he couldn't see over, his Agatha Christie novel was still sitting in pride of place on his desk and every flat surface in sight had been covered with various bits and pieces relating to PJ and Amy's wedding.

At least Ringo had disappeared.

"Where is everyone?" Louis asked, looking around him in confusion. He invited himself to sort through the various files on Nick's desk until he found a roster. Examining it, Louis' face contorted into a scowl. "According to this, Senior Constable McKinley should be in by now. Not to mention Probationary Constable Barnett and Senior Sergeant Jacobs. And the total absence of any members of CI is disturbingly sloppy…"

Nick drew in a deep breath as he tried to find some explanation. "Well, Probationary Constable Barnett is here," he pointed out. "I imagine he's just getting a caffeine fix." Much to Nick's surprise, the mention of his son did little to Louis' demeanour. Clearing his throat, Nick continued. "Senior Sergeant Jacobs' daughter is in town on holidays, he's probably just spending some time with her. Senior Constable McKinley is probably trying to get her young daughter off to her brother's and as for the detectives…"

Louis simply shook his head. "Stop it, Sergeant," he mumbled. "I don't need excuses." He sat the roster sheet back on Nick's desk and headed over to Mark's office. "I'm here to assess the running of the station, which at the moment seems remarkably poor. Don't you agree, Sergeant?"

Nick had only met this guy a few minutes ago, but he already didn't like him. The way he kept pulling rank disturbed him. He suddenly could see why Ringo wasn't too keen on him. But, recognising that he was probably going to get a lecture if he didn't agree, Nick simply nodded. "Yes, sir," he grumbled as Louis invited himself into Mark's office.

Frustrated, Nick headed over to his desk to tidy up. He got the horrible sinking feeling that this day was just going to go from bad to worse.

Dash sat back in the passenger seat as Adam drove, apparently a little frustrated at having to obey the speed limit. They were both running very late, partly because they'd both slept in and partly because Phoebe still had her cold. Getting ready that morning had turned into one disaster after another.

She stared out the window thoughtfully for several minutes, her forehead resting against the glass. It took all the courage she had to speak. "I got offered a job yesterday," she finally confessed.

Adam raised an eyebrow, for a moment not sure what to say. Finally, he shot her a smile before turning back to the road. "What kind of job?" he asked.

Dash didn't move her head from the window. She had put so much energy into trying to make a decision that she didn't have enough left to bother lifting her head. "Shepparton CID want me on as a Senior Detective," she explained. She regarded Adam out of the corner of her eye, only to be very surprised at the way his eyes widened.

"Detective?" he asked incredulously. "I didn't know you'd been to Detective Training School."

"I completed the course ten years ago," she told him, finally finding the energy to lift her head to look at him. His eyes were still wide and his expression appeared to be one of surprise.

"I don't remember that," he mumbled, shooting her a slightly perplexed stare.

Dash sighed thoughtfully. "You'd already left by then," she pointed out. "Monica Draper recommended me. I don't think Tom and PJ thought I was really ready for it. It certainly felt like they were only humouring me."

Adam frowned as he turned back to the road, turning a corner towards the police station. "You never mentioned that," he whispered.

She looked away, a guilty glint in her eyes. "I never thought it was important," she explained wistfully. "I never thought anyone would want me on as a Detective, not after I'd left the force for so long. Phoebe was three months old before I got another offer to join CI."

"Why didn't you accept it?" Adam asked as he pulled the car to a stop outside the Mt. Thomas police station. As she undid her seat belt, Dash looked to Adam bemusedly. Under her stare, he felt compelled to continue. "I mean, you would have made a good detective and I can tell from the way you're talking that you wanted to take the offer."

Dash nodded in agreement as little tears formed in her eyes. "I couldn't have managed CI and a baby, Adam," she confessed, mopping at her eyes hurriedly before she became the same teary mess she had been the night before. "Besides, it was in St. Kilda. There was no way I was bringing up Phoebe there."

Guilt spread through Adam's face as Dash's words hit home. She'd given up her dream of being a detective to bring up their child. She may have forgiven him for walking out, but it didn't change the fact that his actions had forced her to give up something she wanted. He finally looked up to her as he reached out to take her hand in his. "Shepparton's not a bad place," he pointed out with a shrug. "I mean…if Shepparton CID want to give you a job, then there's nothing stopping you from taking it."

"Don't be stupid, Adam," she replied, shaking her head slowly. "What about your job? What about Phoebe? Nursing Unit Manager is a dream job for you. What are the chances you'll find a similar position in Shepparton?"

Adam shrugged. "I'll go back to being a plain old nurse," he told her with a smile. "I became a nurse to help people; the added paperwork of being an NUM isn't something I care too much for, anyway."

Dash looked away briefly; a little infuriated by the way Adam was accepting this. She'd half wanted him to be disappointed, to not want to move. It would have made her choice a lot easier. "What about Phoebe then?" she demanded. "I mean, Charlie's our main babysitter. We're not going to have one in Shepparton."

"I'm sure there are plenty of good babysitters in Shepparton, Dash," he pointed out. "Besides…I could cut my hours down…"

She stared at him blankly. "What?"

Adam shuffled closer to her, clasping her hands close to his chest. "I can cut my hours down," he clarified. "I'll go back to being an ordinary nurse. It's basically all care and no mountains of paperwork – much more my cup of tea. That way I can spend more time at home with Phoebe."

Dash stared at him, her expression a mixture of doubt and amazement. "Why are you willing to do all this?" she asked him in confusion. "I mean…you're offering to throw away a promotion, cut back on work and move to a totally new town…I just don't get why."

"I thought it was obvious," Adam replied as he released his grip on one of Dash's hands and began to run his fingers through her fringe. "You've done so much to look after our girl and I'll never be able to forgive myself completely for running away. I got the chance to focus on my career, so now it's your turn. It's your turn to advance your career."

Dash felt her lips twist into a smile. "Thanks, Adam," she told him, kissing him on the lips tenderly. As she drew away, her smile faded a little. "I just…I just need some more time to think."

As Dash raced into the muster room, mumbling an apology as she passed Nick's desk, she failed to notice the man standing in the doorway to Mark's office. She didn't even realise he was there until he spoke. "Senior Constable McKinley, so nice of you to grace us with your presence at last."

She jumped, her heart racing as she spun to face the man. Reading his police badge, her eyes widened. It had to be Ringo's father. Behind him stood Mark, who was wearing his reading glasses and had an exasperated look on his face. Nick was sitting at his desk, clearing up the piles of paperwork, while Amy and PJ were, quite sensibly, hiding away in their office. Ringo was nowhere to be seen, but remembering what he had told her about his family, Dash could understand why. "Superintendent," she said, drawing herself up to her full height quickly.

"You were meant to be here several hours ago," Louis Barnett reminded her, crossing the muster room to her. "I suggest you invest in a watch. It's a nifty little invention that should help you get to work on time."

Dash fumed silently. If Nick or Mark had made that comment, she would have laughed and written it off as humour. But, coming from Louis, she felt offended. She opened her mouth to argue, but Mark's shaking head warned her off. Instead, she simply nodded. "Yes, sir," she mumbled as she sat down at her desk. As Louis returned to Mark's office, she pulled off her jacket angrily and slammed it down on her desk. She looked up to Nick and nodded towards Louis slightly. "What do you reckon I'd get for smacking him one?" she asked.

Nick grinned at Dash's comment as he offered her a wink. "A round of applause, I'd say," he replied and Dash smiled in response.

It was almost afternoon when Nick entered the CI office, knocking softly before inviting himself inside. Surprised to find Amy alone, he raised an eyebrow. "Where's Patrick?" he asked casually.

Amy looked up to the door leading out into the muster room in surprise, before shrugging in reply to Nick's question. "Out, I suppose," she answered. "From the way he was acting, it seemed like secret wedding business."

Nick's expression became one of understanding. A half smile crept across his face. "Secret from you or Superintendent Baldy in there?"

Laughing, Amy shook her head. "Superintendent Baldy?" she repeated in disbelief. "My, my, Schultz, you are losing your touch."

Nick nodded with false graveness, before motioning down to the laptop Amy was using. The screen was blank, but he could see that she had minimised something down on the taskbar. Judging by the title, it was wedding dress related. "So," he probed. "How's the wedding planning going?"

Amy groaned loudly as she looked up to Nick. "I can now see why they say 'til death do us part'," she pointed out. "You wouldn't want to organise more than one of these in a lifetime." Suddenly remembering that Zoe wasn't Nick's first wife, her expression became apologetic. "No offence."

Shrugging, Nick pulled PJ's chair over to Amy and sat down. "None taken," he reassured her. Nodding towards the laptop, he continued. "Still no luck in the wedding dress department?"

"Who would have thought picking a white dress would be so bloody hard?" Amy demanded by way of reply. She returned to the laptop briefly, bringing the Internet Explorer window back up on screen. It was a site for brides-to-be, with a multitude of dresses on show. Just form the few he could see, Nick could see why Amy didn't relish in her task of picking one. "I mean, it's easy enough for the bloke. You just have to find a half-decent suit and be done with it. Yet, somehow I've got to find a dress that looks good on me and goes with the bridesmaids' dresses…Speaking of which, I still have no idea what they're going to be wearing…"

Nick frowned. "So you don't have dresses for Chris, Zoe or Dash yet?" he asked. He tried to force as much sympathy into his tones as possible, hoping that it would soothe Amy's nerves a little. He knew most girls had their weddings planned down to the last detail by the time they were eight, but he got the feeling that Amy had never given her wedding a second thought until PJ popped the question.

Amy looked to him pointedly. "You want to know how hard it is to find a day that all four of us are available?" she lamented. "I mean, between the station, the hospital and the pub, there's barely a free day. Then there's the trouble of finding a colour and style that goes with two brunettes and a redhead…"

Nick raised his hands in defeat. "Alright, alright," he laughed. "I get it, I get it. It's harder for the woman when organising the wedding." He paused, watching as Amy relaxed slightly. "What else is there to do?"

Sitting back in her chair, Amy began to count off on her fingers. "Well, apart from the dresses," she explained, "there are the flowers, which we thought were done until last night when we found out that the incompetent moron of a florist…" Realising that she was babbling, she drew in a deep breath and continued. "There's the catering, which Chris has kindly offered to take care of, thank God. We still don't have a venue, we've only decided on one song for the reception, I haven't even started writing my vows yet…" Amy buried her head in her hands as a sound of frustration left her lips. "It's a bloody disaster, Nick."

"How about the guests?" Nick asked as he leant across her desk. "Or is that still a mystery?"

A tiny smile crossed her lips as she nodded. "That's about the only thing that is sorted," she replied. Again, she began counting off on her fingers. "Tess and Jonesy are coming down from Melbourne, Ben rang a couple of days ago to confirm that he's coming, Pat's already here…but Kelly and Joss are too busy in Italy to make it, Brendan's working and can't get over from Perth…" She laughed dimly. "So many people can't make it. We're getting Ringo to videotape it for us, but…"

Nick nodded sadly. "It's not quite the same when they can't be there with you," he agreed. At Amy's curious stare, he continued. "Zoe and I had to organise our wedding pretty quickly. She had to get to Melbourne for work, I had to start at Footscray…it was a rush job."

"Do you regret that?" Amy asked, staring at Nick probingly.

He shook his head as a distant smile crossed his lips. "Not at all," he told her firmly. "The most important thing is that you get to marry the person you love. As long as I got to marry Zoe, I would have done it in the registry office if I had to."

Amy nodded, a smile gracing her face. "That's true," she admitted with a nod. "I just don't know how we're going to get it together in time. The rate we're going, we won't be getting married til after Christmas."

Nick laughed as he reached across to squeeze Amy's shoulder encouragingly. "Oh, it'll be right," he reassured her with a grin. "If anyone can pull it together, it's you."

She blushed and chuckled as she turned back to the laptop. "Thanks, Nick," she told him. Her expression became one of annoyance again as she focused on the photographs onscreen. "Back to the dresses, I suppose."

Nick nodded, only to become distracted when he heard the buzzer sound from the reception area. He rolled his eyes as he looked to the screen. Immediately, he raised his eyebrows and looked back to Amy. "Pat Doyle's here."

Amy nodded as she looked up casually. It took a few seconds for her to realise just what this meant. Pat Doyle was in the police station, separated from Louis Barnett by a single wall. She leapt up to her feet, alarm spreading like wildfire across her face. "I'm going to go speak to him," she told him breathlessly. "Just, whatever you do, don't let Superintendent Barnett see him."

As Amy dashed past him to the muster room, Nick stared after her in confusion. "Why?"

"Just don't."

Amy slipped into the reception area, not opening the door any further than absolutely necessary. Pat's cheerful expression immediately became one of concern as Amy realised just how bad she looked. The copper left in him realised that something was wrong long before she could coordinate herself to force a smile.

"What's wrong?" he asked, leaning across the counter.

She shook her head furiously. "Nothing's wrong," she lied, knowing full well that she wasn't convincing him at all. "It's fine. Just…wedding stuff, that's all."

Pat frowned, certain that there was something Amy wasn't telling him.

As Nick passed the monitors in the muster room, he reached up easily to switch off the one showing the events in the reception area. He wasn't sure why Amy was so determined to keep Pat Doyle and Louis Barnett separate, but he could tell that this was no time to argue with her. Unfortunately, he wasn't aware that Louis was standing in Mark's office, watching him through the window.

Stepping out into the muster room, Louis' voice made Nick physically jump. "What do you think you are doing, Sergeant?"

Nick spun to face Louis, suddenly finding himself a little flustered. He didn't have an excuse, or at least not a good one. He drew himself up to his full height, as he watched Mark emerge from his office, looking thoroughly annoyed. "Ah…what do you mean, Superinten…"

"You know full well what I mean," Louis pointed out, crossing the gap in several strides as he waved an arm towards the blackened monitor. "You just switched that monitor off!"

"I was, ah…" Nick began, drawing in a deep breath. "Ah…the camera's…malfunctioning. I figured I may as well switch the monitor off rather than waste power…"

Rolling his eyes, Louis reached up to switch the monitor back on. "I'm sure you're well aware that it is protocol that the monitor is left on at all…" He suddenly trailed off as the monitor came to life, showing the two in the reception area. Amy was attempting to shoo Pat away, but Pat was showing his staying power. Louis' face turned red as, without another word, he stormed into the reception area. Confused and feeling surprisingly panicky, Nick and Mark followed him.

Louis burst into the reception area, his entrance instantly catching Amy and Pat's attention. Amy's expression became pained as she swore under her breath, while Pat's face paled before turning a shade of red to rival Louis'.

"You've got a hide, showing up at a police station," Louis grumbled as Nick and Mark appeared in the doorway.

Pat stepped towards Louis, leaning across the counter as anger boiled away in his face. "I'm visiting a friend," he pointed out. "I'm on parole. There's nothing stopping me from visiting a mate."

Louis scoffed at this. "Mate," he said as he looked to Amy, who was massaging her temples in the corner. "That'd be you and your fiancé wouldn't it, Senior Detective Fox?" At Amy's meek nod of reply, Louis shot Pat a savage glare as he continued to direct his comments at Amy. "I'd be choosing your friends more wisely, if I were you. This is the kind of company that can end careers."

Pat nodded, chuckling sarcastically. "Because you're a better murderer for them to associate with, I'm sure."

Looking up hesitantly, Amy could see Nick and Mark sharing a puzzled frown. She suddenly felt very sorry for Ringo. All his family's dirty laundry was about to get aired in one of the worst ways possible.

"I am not a murderer!" Louis roared. In just seconds, he had lifted the swing top counter and was standing centimetres from Pat. His voice became scathing as he continued. "If you have even so much as introduced yourself to my son…"

"Son," Pat scoffed. "That's a laugh. You've treated that kid like crap. He's grown up feeling like no one cares. You haven't even given him – or any of them, for that matter – the chance to even meet any of Vicky's family."

"Why the bloody hell would I want to?!" Louis demanded, his voice becoming so loud that Amy, Nick and Mark winced at the volume. "You're disgusting, Doyle. You were a corrupt copper who wrecked your kids. How dare you criticise my parenting when one of your sons was a junkie and the other a drug dealer!"

Pat shook his head warningly, every ounce of his control evaporating. "Shut up."

Louis continued, unabated. "The sad thing is the only half-decent kid you did produce never had a chance. Not with you as a father. That girl was doomed. Why would I have given my kids the chance to get involved with that lot?"

Pat finally snapped. He lashed out at Louis, only for his punch to be blocked. Hoping that the situation was finally going to be under control, Amy stepped forward to guide Pat away, only to be surprised when Louis threw a punch of his own. It collided with Pat's cheek, causing him to stumble momentarily. Surprised at Louis' actions, Amy retreated back into the corner.

Pat was back on Louis in seconds. He grabbed the other man, trying to pull him into a headlock while Louis continued to try to land punches. It was a surreal sight for Amy, Nick and Mark, watching as two sixty-something men tried to beat each other to a pulp.

"Come on," Nick mumbled, shaking his head in confusion as he and Mark slipped through to the other side of the counter. "Do I have to separate you two like a couple of children?" But Pat and Louis continued on, apparently taking no notice of Nick's words.

All of a sudden, things became very confused. The three police officers tried to leap on the warring men at the same time, hoping to pull them apart. Instead, seconds later, Amy withdrew, a gasp of pain leaving her lips. The sound stopped the fight dead in its tracks as Nick hurried to her side, grasping her shoulders protectively as she reached up to her nose tentatively. It was bleeding profusely, causing a stream of bright crimson blood to run down her face.

Struggling to catch his breath, Louis glared at Pat harshly. "See?" he snapped breathlessly. "That bastard ought to be locked up."

Sitting at the table in the mess room, Amy dabbed at her bleeding nose with a tissue. The smell of the blood was making her feel nauseous and her whole face still seemed to sting with the pain of the hit. Her head was started to throb too, but she couldn't tell whether the punch, the sickening smell of blood or the stress was responsible for that. She lowered the tissue as Mark entered the mess room, speaking to Nick in a hushed whisper. She sat the bloodied tissue aside and grabbed a new one from the box as Mark and Nick sat down either side of her.

"How are you feeling?" Mark asked, looking her over worriedly. The concern in his eyes finally encouraged Amy to look herself over. She looked worse than she'd thought. Some of the blood had managed to get on her suit, staining the collar of her shirt. Another outfit she'd have to throw out because of blood stains.

"Like crap," she replied, surprised at the nasal quality of her voice. As she lowered the tissue again, Nick reached out, taking her chin in his hand. He turned her head towards him, gently running his fingers along her nose. She winced at the pain, but Nick didn't appear too worried.

Withdrawing his hands, he spoke. "I don't think it's broken," he told them thoughtfully. "Zoe would probably want to look her over, anyway."

Amy shook her head as she returned the tissue to her nose. "It's nothing," she mumbled. "I'll be fine once it's stopped bleeding."

Nick nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I know, but Zo-Zo and Patrick are likely to deck me if I don't get you checked out."

Rolling her eyes, Amy finally nodded. "Yeah, I guess," she relented reluctantly. Sighing, she looked to Mark. "Where are Pat and Louis now?"

"Superintendent Barnett is in my office," Mark explained. "Pat's waiting in the interview room. Dash is keeping an eye on him." He paused, before leaning in and staring at Amy intently. "Do you have any idea who threw that punch?"

Amy closed her eyes thoughtfully as she tried to recall exactly what had happened in the reception area. Finally, she shook her head. "I don't remember, Boss," she admitted with a weak shrug. "It all happened too fast. I'm really sorry…"

Mark shook his head as he patted Amy's shoulder reassuringly. "It's fine," he told her with a smile. He looked up to Nick and nodded. "You better get her to the hospital. I'll get onto PJ; let him know what's happened." Nick nodded as he guided Amy to the door, remembering at the last second to grab the tissue box from the table. The two had only reached the doorway before Mark suddenly spoke again. "Ah, Amy?"

Stopping, Amy turned back to the table. "Yes Boss?"

Drawing in a deep breath to steady his nerves, Mark finally spoke. "I'm gathering from what took place today that Pat Doyle is Ringo's uncle…right?"

Amy nodded. "Yeah," she admitted in a soft, nasal whisper. "He is."

"That'd make Maggie Doyle his cousin," Nick mused, his voice causing Amy to look up to him in surprise. His expression was nostalgic and distant. "Does PJ know?"

Again, she nodded. "He was the one who worked it out."

Mark nodded thoughtfully, before waving towards Amy. "You two should get down to the hospital," he told them. He watched as Nick led Amy out of the mess room, before flopping down in one of the nearby plastic chairs. He passed a tired hand across his eyes. Somehow, a bad day had just gotten even worse.

Zoe stood at the nurse's counter, frowning distractedly as she rushed through some paperwork. It was the usual supply forms that everyone else was supposedly far too busy to fill out. Even Adam Cooper had started getting comfortable and fobbing off whatever paperwork he could. She barely noticed Nick and Amy approaching her until a large hand passed across her vision. It was Nick's.

Her head snapped up and her eyes widened as she took in the two police officers standing before her. Amy's nose had stopped bleeding, but she could see that her face was already starting to bruise a little. "What have you done to yourself?" she asked as she moved around to the other side of the counter and cupped Amy's chin in her palm. She turned it gently towards her to get a better look.

"She was hit," Nick explained, not waiting for Amy to find some explanation for what no one could really explain.

Zoe looked to him pointedly. "Well done, Sherlock," she mumbled sarcastically. "What I meant was who hit her and why."

Amy shrugged, wincing a little as Zoe prodded her nose. Somehow, Nick's touch hadn't been as painful. "There was a fight," she told her. "It all happened so fast…"

Zoe nodded, guiding her towards one of the cubicles. Once Amy was sitting, she resuming checking her nose. After a couple of minutes, she pulled away. "So," she began, placing her hands on her hips. "The good news is that it isn't broken."

Amy's eyes narrowed in confusion. "And the bad news?"

"There'll be some swelling and bruising for the next few days," Zoe added. "And you'll have a couple of black eyes too. But don't worry, that'll all be gone long before you walk down the aisle."

Nick cringed at Zoe's reference to the wedding. It had only been half an hour since he'd managed to reassure Amy that she could pull the wedding together – he didn't need Zoe dragging the stress back up again. Amy looked a little uncomfortable too, but in the end smiled a little. At least she was feeling a little better about the wedding.

Louis Barnett was sitting in Mark's chair by the time the Senior Sergeant returned to the office. He was leaning back, fingers intertwined behind his head, eyes closed in silent reflection. He didn't even realise Mark was there until he cleared his throat loudly. Sitting forward with a jolt, Louis' expression didn't falter. "How is Senior Detective Fox?"

Mark closed the door leading out into the muster room and leant back against it. "Sergeant Schultz is running her over to the hospital," he explained. "Her nose doesn't look broken, but there's no point risking it. I've also informed Senior Detective Hasham as to what has happened."

"Have you interviewed Doyle yet?" Louis asked bluntly. Mark found himself squirming slightly under Louis' icy stare.

"No," he answered simply. "Senior Detective Fox is unable to identify who hit her, so we're going to have to speak to both of you…"

Louis looked to Mark pointedly. "Have you ever looked at Pat Doyle's record, Senior Sergeant?" At Mark's blank stare, Louis continued. "Even before he took to revenge killings, he wasn't averse to using a punch or two to solve a problem. Two counts of assault police would definitely be a violation of his parole conditions."

Mark drew in a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Sir," he began, "with all due respect, your actions went well and above self-defence. By rights, we would have to charge you as well…"

A look of realisation crossed Louis' face. "I see," he grumbled. "I drop the charges, you don't charge me." He stood up and moved towards the door. "ESD would love to hear about this…"

"That is not what is going on here," Mark told him firmly, his voice attaining a tone that stopped Louis in his tracks. A little bemused by what had come over the Senior Sergeant, he sat back down again. "Did you hit Senior Detective Fox?"

Louis looked deeply offended. "How dare you even think of accusing me of such…such…" He stopped, suddenly realising that he couldn't quite find the word he wanted. He instead glared harshly at Mark. "Unless you have any evidence indicating that I was responsible, I am standing by my statement that Doyle assaulted Senior Detective Fox."

Recognising that he wasn't getting anything more from Louis, Mark left his office without another word. PJ was waiting for him in the muster room, tossing his car keys from hand to hand. The detective pounced on Mark with surprising speed. "What the hell happened?" he demanded breathlessly. "Where's Amy? Is she okay? Who the hell did this to her?"

Mark held up a hand simply, halting PJ's tirade of questions in its tracks. At PJ's expectant expression, he began to speak. "Nick's with her at the hospital. Zoe's just checking her out, making sure there's no damage. She'll probably be fine." PJ's expression seemed to relax a little at Mark's reassurances. He decided not to give PJ the chance to speak. "A fight broke out between Louis Barnett and Pat Doyle…"

PJ's panic suddenly vanished, replaced instead by disbelief. "What?"

"Superintendent Barnett is here to assess the running of the station. Pat showed up while he was visiting and despite Amy and Nick's best attempts to get rid of him…" Mark paused, watching as PJ buried his face in his hands.

"One of them went the biff, didn't they?"

Mark nodded. "They exchanged…ah…heated words. Louis Barnett insulted Pat and his family. Pat took a swing…" PJ swore under his breath, while Mark continued. "Louis blocked it, then landed a punch of his own. It just escalated so quickly. Nick, Amy and I tried to stop it, at some point she must have gotten in the way."

PJ stared at Mark with horror in his eyes. "So you don't know which one hit Amy?"

Mark shook his head. "Louis maintains it wasn't him. He claims it was Pat. I haven't spoken to Pat officially yet, but he seems pretty certain he didn't hit her either."

"I'm sitting in when you talk to Pat," he told him simply. He followed Mark to the interview room, only to stop outside the door and grab his boss' shoulder. "This would be enough to put Pat back inside, you realise that don't you?"

Nodding, Mark shrugged off PJ's hand. "I know," he replied, before leading him into the interview room.

Pat was waiting inside, chatting easily with Dash. She was perched on the corner of the desk, showing Pat her wallet. From where he stood, PJ could see that his old friend was busy showing off Phoebe's baby photos. For the first time since Mark had told him Amy had been injured, he found himself smiling.

"PJ, mate," Pat exclaimed, rising to his feet as PJ and Mark entered. "I didn't touch her. I swear to God I didn't lay a finger on her. Louis is lying. That stupid bastard is lying."

Mark shot Dash a brief glance. It was enough to encourage her to put away her wallet, get off the desk and sit down in a chair instead. Looking back to where Pat and PJ stood mere centimetres apart, Mark cleared his throat. "You said Superintendent Barnett was a murderer," he began, causing Pat to turn to him in surprise. "Why?"

Pat looked distinctly annoyed. Interest showed in PJ's face as he raised his eyebrows. He recalled the story Amy had found.

"Louis and I got the graveyard shift," Pat explained, finally sitting down as he massaged his temples furiously. "I wanted the shift to get out of the house for a bit. I had three kids under five and Maggie was only a baby. It was 1972 at the time."

The others nodded, waiting for Pat to continue. After a few seconds silence to regather his thoughts, he did. "The plainclothes were after some bloke who'd raped his sister-in-law, then bludgeoned her to death. We'd been warned to be cautious. The brass didn't want a couple of Constables dead."

Mark nodded thoughtfully. He was sure he could vaguely remember the case. It had happened before he had joined the force, but he could remember the media coverage. "I know the case," he mused. "He ended up dead in a police pursuit six months later. But I don't understand what this has to do with anything…"

"We stopped at a service station," Pat interrupted. "I went inside to grab something to eat; Louis kept an eye on the car. Two minutes later, I heard a gunshot. I came out to find an off-duty copper dead next to the car and Louis holding a smoking gun."

PJ's frown deepened. So far, this matched the article Amy had gotten her hands on. But Mark and Dash didn't have this knowledge, and were looking as perplexed as ever. At this latest revelation, a distinct look of horror crossed their faces. "He didn't…" Dash began, speaking for the first time since her discussion with Pat had been interrupted.

Pat sighed resentfully. "He claimed that he'd thought it was the killer approaching his car," he explained. "He said that the guy came out of the shadows and he was certain it was the murderer. So he shot."

"But you don't think it was self-defence and mistaken identity," PJ reminded him, sitting down on the edge of the desk and looking down at his almost-father-in-law pleadingly.

"The officer's name was Kieren Douglas," Pat added. "He was of another old policing family, just like Louis and me. He and Louis had had a rivalry since the Academy. Earlier that day, they'd had an almighty blue. When he turned up dead…"

Mark finally spoke. "But surely there was some sort of inquiry," he pointed out. "He must have been cleared. He's gone on to have such a brilliant career…"

Pat almost seemed to laugh. "They started an inquiry. But then Louis used his family connections to make any allegations against him disappear. We'll never know what he thought he was doing when he killed Kieren Douglas. He had it all swept under the carpet. And I could never forgive him for that."

Mark nodded thoughtfully while Dash looked away, disgusted, and PJ buried his face in his hands. Somehow, he couldn't quite believe that he was hearing this. He knew this kind of thing happened. He'd seen corruption in many of its forms, felt its consequences in more ways than one, but something about this revolted him. It certainly made Ringo's dislike of his father make a lot more sense.

"Ringo Barnett is your nephew, correct?" Mark asked, the words – and Pat's eventual nod – bringing on a new wave of silence. The greatest reaction came from Dash. After a few seconds, she was finally able to move. Realising what this meant, she tore out of the interview room, slamming the door behind her.

As he watched her go, PJ felt his heart sink in his chest. Dash had loved Maggie nearly as much as he had – in a very different way, albeit, but she had loved her all the same. For the last few months, she had bonded with Ringo, completely unaware that she was with her best friend's cousin. And, as much as he knew he had done the right thing in respecting Ringo's privacy, he found himself wondering if perhaps he should have told Dash.

"His mother was my sister," Pat explained. "She fell for Louis just weeks after the shooting. I made her choose between us and within a year, she was married to the bastard with their first on the way." He looked up to Mark, tiny traces of tears in his eyes. "You now know why this happened, but I didn't touch Amy. I wouldn't. I've done a lot of bad things, hurt a lot of people, but I've never hit a woman. And I never would."

"Not even in the heat of the moment?" Mark probed. Pat shook his head firmly in reply.

"Not even then."

Mark sighed as he left the interview room, closing the door behind him. PJ was already waiting outside in the corridor, arms folded across his chest as he leant against the wall. The Senior Sergeant approached him slowly. "He does have more of a tendency towards this sort of thing," he explained. "But…I believe him. I don't think he has it in him to hit a woman and certainly not Amy. I get the feeling he likes that girl."

PJ nodded, before finally looking up to meet Mark's eyes. "Louis did it," he told him simply. "I'd bet my life on it, if I had to. Unfortunately, he'd wriggle out of anything we stuck on him." He sighed as he looking away, his normally wise and gentle blue eyes now ablaze with frustration. "Louis Barnett hurt the woman I love and I want him to at least be forced to admit that. I never want anyone to hurt Amy and get away with it. But there isn't enough evidence to charge him."

"I'll have another chat to him, anyway," Mark mused. "Maybe he'll slip up."

"You can try," PJ remarked with a shrug, "but I don't think you'd achieve anything. Pat insists he didn't do it, Louis insists he didn't do it, Amy doesn't have a clue who it was and neither you nor Nick saw it either…no matter what we believe, there's no evidence." The anger passed through PJ's face along with another emotion that it took Mark a few seconds to process. It was as though his self-esteem had plummeted during the last five seconds.

Mark patted his arm reassuringly. "Don't give up just yet," he reminded him. "You never know what Louis might do next."

Nick and Amy chose that moment to enter through the back entrance, just a few metres away from where PJ and Mark were standing. Apart from some bruising and swelling and a blood stain on her shirt, Amy looked fine. Still, Nick kept close by, eyeing her as though she was about to collapse on him at any moment.

He was with her in seconds, wrapping his arms around her waist and planting a soft and brief kiss upon her lips. When they broke away, Amy's tired and distracted expression had become a smile. "You okay?" he asked as he reached up to run the back of his hand along her cheekbone.

She opened her mouth to reply, but Nick was faster. "Well, she's going to look like Marcia Brady after she got hit with that football for a few days, but other than that she'll be right."

PJ looked up to Nick, raising an eyebrow at his Brady Bunch reference, before turning back to Amy. He let his smile broaden slightly as she spoke. "I'm fine," she confirmed. "It's just a little sore, that's all. Whoever hit me certainly knows how to throw a punch."

"Want me to kiss it better?" PJ asked, leaning in to kiss Amy's nose softly. Much to his surprise, she pushed him away.

She laughed at the wounded expression on PJ's face. "Of course you can kiss it better," she promised. "Just maybe after this mess is wrapped up, okay?"

She headed towards the CI office, where Nick and Mark were already waiting. PJ found himself grinning broadly and laughing back. "I'll hold you to that!" he vowed as he hurried after her.

Dash entered the Imperial, her eyes red from crying. The hankie that she always kept up her sleeve – a piece of handy advice from her mother that she hadn't forgotten – was crushed into a salty wet ball in her fist. She wasn't quite sure of why Pat's revelation had hurt her so much. If she'd known Ringo was Maggie's cousin all along, she was certain it wouldn't have bothered her in the slightest. All she knew was that she had to see him.

Upon seeing Dash, Chris deserted the beers she was pouring and hurried over to her. She wrapped an arm around her instinctively. "What's wrong?" she asked, stroking Dash's hair reassuringly. "Has something happened?"

She shook her head. "Amy's been punched in the nose, but…but that's not what's wrong…" she managed to choke out as Chris tried to guide her over towards a chair. She didn't let her. "I need…I need to see Ringo…is he here?"

Chris paused, a little uncertain. Finally, she spoke. "He is, but don't tell anyone else down at the station," she explained. At Dash's puzzled stare, she continued. "He came back pretty soon after he left. He said that he just couldn't stay at the station and asked me to cover if anyone asked. He's up in his room…"

Chris barely finished her sentence before Dash took off upstairs, using the railing to stop herself from losing her footing. When she reached Ringo's room, she didn't stop to knock. Instead, she threw the door open and moved into the doorway.

He was lying on his side on his blue bedspread, a back issue of some science magazine open in front of him. He'd leapt up in surprise when the door opened, and was now regarding Dash with a mixture of relief and fear. "Dash?" he asked hesitantly. "Are you okay? Has something happened?"

For a long moment, Dash couldn't answer. The tears and her run up the stairs had left her breathless. Finally, she brought herself to ask the one question that had been running through her mind since she'd left the station. "Why didn't you tell me you were Maggie's cousin?"

Ringo didn't reply at first. The two remained in a kind of stalemate until he finally curled up into a ball and let his head hang. "Because until last night I couldn't come to terms with it myself."

Dash seemed surprised at this. She invited herself inside, closing the door behind her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that…my Dad shamed them at every possible opportunity," he explained, finally looking up to let his gaze meet Dash's. "I've only just met Pat for the first time. I hate this, Dash. I really hate all of this."

The tears were forming in Ringo's eyes anew. A strong desire to soothe him ran through Dash and she soon found herself sitting beside him on the bed, holding his hand in hers. "Hate what?" she asked, although she was certain she knew the answer.

Ringo sighed as he shook his head in a kind of disbelief at how complicated his life had become. "Dad made Pat and his family into the bad guys. Now…I've come to this town and learnt that things were never that black and white." He looked up to Dash and found himself remembering his conversation with Pat the night before. "You were her best friend," he recalled.

Dash nodded. "And I know that people are right when they tell you that it wasn't that black and white because nothing is," she pointed out. Without thinking, she continued. "Besides, your Dad has a few things he shouldn't be proud of…" Suddenly realising where she was going, she released her grip on Ringo's hand and covered her mouth. "Oh crap," she swore in a muffled voice. "Forget it."

Ringo's eyes widened. "No," he insisted, shaking his head. "Tell me. What did my father do that he shouldn't be proud of?" Dash simply shook her head. "Please, Dash, don't do it to me too. Don't keep information from me because I'm too young or you think I shouldn't know. This is how this whole bloody mess started. Tell me."

Drawing in a deep breath to prepare herself, Dash finally nodded. "Okay," she agreed. "But if anyone decides to crucify me for this, I'm telling them you coerced me into it."

Mark, PJ and Amy entered the office where Louis was waiting, flipping through a report that had been left on Mark's desk. His expression was disapproving. "This handwriting is hardly worthy of a five year old, Senior Sergeant," he mumbled. "Who wrote this dog's breakfast of a report?"

Recognising his untidy scrawl, PJ drew himself up to his full height and clasped Amy's hand tighter in his. "Ah, that would be me, Sir."

Louis shot PJ a thoughtful glare. For a moment, it seemed he was going to comment, only for PJ's cold demeanour to change his mind. It was very clear that the assault on Amy had affected his opinion of him. He set the report aside and looked back to the three officers. His gaze travelled across them to rest on Amy. "How is the nose?"

"I'll live," Amy replied simply.

Mark folded his arms across his chest. "Sir, I am going to ask you for the final time – did you assault Senior Detective Fox during the argument in the reception area today?"

"No," Louis answered coolly. There was something about his tone and expression that the others didn't trust. "I did not assault Senior Detective Fox. My actions towards Patrick Doyle were self-defence and I will be making these points in court when he goes to trial for assault police…"

Louis was cut off when the door opened, without so much as a knock. Nick stood in the doorway, looking a little edgy, but still somehow satisfied. Mark looked up to him with a slightly annoyed expression on his face. "What do you think you're doing Sergeant?" he demanded in a hiss.

"Chris just rang," Nick explained. "Dash showed up at the pub in tears and wanting to see Ringo. Five minutes later, he came down in a huff, telling Chris that he was going to the station and that his father couldn't get away with it anymore." Nick's gaze switched to Louis. "Your son doesn't seem like a happy chappy, Sir."

Mark looked up to Nick and nodded. He thanked him and shooed him back out into the muster room. By the time he looked back to Louis, he was looking distinctly on edge. Louis couldn't meet Mark's gaze when he spoke. "This interview is over, Senior Sergeant," he grumbled. He rose to his feet and headed for the door. He stopped at the last minute and turned back to Mark. He paused for a few seconds, before finally raising his gaze. "I'm not going to press charges against Doyle," he mumbled. "You know, it'll be better for Ringo…" Without another word, he slipped out of the office and made a beeline for the mess room.

PJ raised an eyebrow as he looked over to Amy. "If he's dropping the charges for Ringo's sake, then I'm the Chief Commissioner."

Amy craned her neck to watch as Louis bumped into Nick on his way to the mess room, became flustered and kept walking even faster. She found herself laughing with amusement. "I think he's trying to hide," she chuckled in disbelief.

PJ nodded and pulled Amy close as he planted a tender kiss upon her cheek. "I think I'm going to go give Pat the good news," he told her. "I'll keep him clear of Ringo and Louis. I think we've had enough punch-ups for one day."

Louis was in the mess room when Ringo stormed in, his blood nearly close to boiling. It almost frightening to see a man who was usually so even tempered this angry. He slammed the door behind him and leant back against it, trying to catch his breath. "Dash told me what happened to Kieren Douglas," he began.

"She had no right…" Louis mumbled, turning away to the sink, just so that he didn't have to meet his son's accusing eyes.

"At least she told me the whole truth," Ringo pointed out. "She's about the only one who ever has. Everyone else has always just told me bits and pieces of the truth, censoring it for their purpose."

Louis still didn't turn around. "I was trying to protect you," he mumbled down to the sink.

Ringo grew more outraged. "Protect me?" he scoffed. "How did you think you were going to be protecting me by painting the Doyles as the bad guys? I'm as much related to them as I am to anyone in your family. You kept feeding us kids lies and half-truths and I don't think you'll ever understand how much we missed out on. We'll never get the chance to know our Aunty Kathleen. Or our cousins Robbie, Mick and Maggie. Mick was a rotten apple, Robbie was a junkie, but they were our cousins! We had the right to know them!"

"They were all dead by the time you turned twelve," Louis mumbled.

"And that excuses it, does it?" Ringo cried, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. "You spent years and years painting them all as bad guys, corrupt coppers, drug dealers, junkies…but you never told us the truth. Life is never that black and white, Dad! It can't be. They weren't perfect, but they were people. Not stereotypes."

Louis frowned, and finally mustered the courage to turn around to face his youngest son. "I know that," he admitted.

Ringo continued on, as though he hadn't heard. "And the whole time, Dad, the whole time…you were hiding the secret that you'd killed a man and abused your family history with the force to make the problem disappear."

"I did not kill Kieren on purpose," Louis explained. "We were all scared out of our wits! We'd all seen the photos of what the killer had done to his sister-in-law. I still have nightmares about how badly she was beaten. So when some bloke - same height, same build – walks out of the shadows towards you, you assume the worst. I was certain that I had a violent rapist and murderer coming at me and I was going to be damned if he got me. I didn't know it was Kieren until after I'd killed him."

"It doesn't matter that you killed him, Dad!" Ringo pointed out. His voice was coming closer and closer to hysterics. He was finally saying the things he'd been bottling up for his entire life, and it somehow felt good. Like a weight slowly disappearing from his chest. "You didn't let the system deal with it properly. You just had a few high ranking relatives sweep it under the carpet. You always told us that the system was everything, that we have to do things by the book and let the system do its thing. You're a hypocrite! You've always pretended to be so high and mighty, but you couldn't even admit that you'd made a mistake."

Louis sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Horror passed through Ringo's face at this. "You still can't, can you?" he asked, his voice scarcely more than a whisper. "You spent years drumming into us that Pat Doyle was such a bad man but…you're worse. At least he can admit what he is, what he has been and face up to the consequences of that. You've had thirty-seven years to face up to what you did and you still can't." He drew in a deep breath to calm himself down. He didn't want his father to think that what he said next was simply the product of hysterics. "You've treated me like crap compared to the others, you've lied to me and you've been a complete hypocrite. I'm not letting you mess with my life anymore. Goodbye, Dad."

With that, Ringo turned and walked out of the mess room, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

Dash stood, leaning against one of the wooden fences on Charlie McKinley's farm. Phoebe was still inside, playing with Charlie's two daughter and Charlie was approaching her, two mugs in his hands. He stood beside Dash and offered her one containing tea. "Here's that herbal muck you drink," he laughed as she took it. "As for me, I think I'll stick with the good old McKinley coffee." At the lack of response from Dash, Charlie found himself becoming concerned. "Is something wrong?"

She looked over to him in surprise, jolted from her daydream. "What?"

"You just seem a bit…distant," he replied with a thoughtful shrug. "I was just wondering what was wrong. Adam Cooper hasn't done anything to hurt you again, has he?"

Chuckling weakly at the absurdity of Charlie's question, especially given Adam's offer earlier that day, Dash shook her head. "Nah, it's got nothing to do with Adam." Pausing thoughtfully, she continued. "Well, actually it does. But not in the way you're thinking."

Charlie frowned and looked at her pointedly. "So what is it then? You can tell me, Dash. I know how to keep a secret."

"It's work," she explained, her eyes becoming increasingly distracted as she thought over the CI job. "I got a job offer yesterday. With Shepparton CI."

Charlie made a low whistling sound. "I'm impressed," he told her. He soon chuckled. "Well, not really. I've always known you've had it in you." His look of pride and surprise soon turned to one of concern. "You haven't accepted it though, have you?"

She shook her head. "I don't know if it would be the right thing, Charlie," she sighed dismally. "I want to be a detective, but I don't know if I could force Adam and Phoebe to make the move. Adam's already promised me it'll be fine, but…I just don't know."

"You want to know what I think?" Charlie asked, downing a mouthful of his coffee. Dash nodded eagerly. She was more than happy for someone else to tell her what to do. She'd hoped Amy would tell her she wasn't ready and she'd hoped Adam would say no, but both had simply given wishy washy answers to her dilemma. "I think you don't want to go."

Surprise crossed Dash's face. "What?"

Charlie offered her his warm smile, the one that had always put her at ease. "I know you, Dash. You're…you're impulsive. You know what you want and, when you want something, you don't run around seeking other people's approval. I remember when you first called me, telling me you were pregnant. You could have only known for a couple of days, realised you were going to be doing this on your own for less, yet you'd already made up your mind. Even my wife wasn't that sure when she was pregnant with Macca, and she had no reason to doubt anything."

Dash thought through Charlie's words. There was a truth there and one she couldn't deny. "You think so?"

He nodded. "If you really wanted to go to Shepparton, you'd have accepted that offer by now, regardless of what Adam or I said. In fact, you probably wouldn't have bothered seeking our approval. The fact that you're standing here, practically asking my permission to go, tells me you don't want this. Not really."

She knew he'd hit home. He was right. She'd never been this indecisive about anything before. She wasn't a 'pros and cons list' kind of girl. She knew what she wanted and would go for it. Asking people's permission like this was out of character. "I've got everything I've ever wanted," she mused, staring down into the depths of her tea. "I've got a job I love, some of the best friends I've ever had and ever will have, Adam and Phoebe…not to mention you, Macca and Kirsty." She sighed. "And Mt. Thomas," she added as a smile crossed her face. "I love this town and everything about it." She laughed as Charlie reached over to pull her close to his chest. "And to think I was about to throw that away so I can run around in a suit instead of a uniform. I think I've made my decision. Dash McKinley isn't going anywhere."

Charlie grinned. He knew Dash had reached the right decision. She seemed so much happier now she'd decided to stay, like a weight had disappeared from her shoulders. Dash McKinley was here to stay.

I'll never leave

This small town girl behind

The place where I came from

Is with me all the time

Amy lay on her back on the bed she shared with PJ, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. She had the ear buds of her new iPod in her ear and her favourite David Bowie song played softly. The iPod was a white Nano and had arrived two weeks ago as an early birthday present from Brendan and Chloe. When Brendan had rung to apologise for not being able to make it to the wedding, she'd told him that she couldn't accept such an extravagant gift from him. In the end, Chloe had persuaded her to keep it. It wasn't just a birthday present – it was a thank you gift for helping them after Megan died.

Without her even realising it, PJ had joined her on the bed. She gently sat the iPod aside and let him pull her against his chest. She felt so safe there, so comfortable. Just the feeling of being against his chest eased all the stress and pain from that day. She smiled instinctively as he whispered in her ear. "So can I kiss it better now?"

She found herself laughing; a little surprised PJ had remembered her promise. Things had become a little crazy, she was certain that he would have been too caught up with other thoughts to remember. But he had. "If you want," she told him. He gently pressed his lips to the skin of her nose, his touch almost completely removing the dull throbbing pain. "You better enjoy this," she chuckled. "I'm going to look pretty disgusting for the next couple of days. Zoe said it'd get a bit worse before it got better."

Blue eyes met green as PJ's expression became one of surprise. "You'll always be beautiful to me, Amez," he vowed. "Always."

Her eyes clouded over with tears as PJ's hand drifted up from her waist to her cheek. It was as though he thought he could make her believe his words just by the power of his touch. "I don't feel very beautiful right now," she whispered.

"You are," he whispered. "You are extremely beautiful. Not just on the outside, but on the inside. You've been through enough to break the strongest among us, but you're still my strong, beautiful Amy. The only thing in life I could ever regret is growing old without you."

You're beautiful, you're beautiful

You're beautiful, it's true

She stared at him, a little bit of disbelief in her eyes. PJ could see it instantly. Every time he told her she was beautiful, she didn't quiet believe it, but every time the disbelief lessened slightly. It was almost gone now. "Older, you mean," she joked. He put on an expression of mock offence, which disappeared almost as soon as it came over him.

"I found the perfect place today," he told her. Amy stared at him curiously, silently inviting him to continue. "It's this gorgeous little garden. It's secluded and green and there's all these beautiful flowers. I'll take you out there tomorrow."

Amy raised an eyebrow, impressed. "So this was the secret wedding business, huh?"

He nodded as he pulled her close again, kissing her cheek tenderly. "It's going to be perfect, Amy. It's going to be the most beautiful day. You are going to make the most beautiful bride."

She found herself grinning at this. Everyone had tried to reassure her that this wedding was going to be perfect and she hadn't quite believed them. But she believed PJ when he said it. As she kissed him, she found herself looking forward to the wedding again.

Next episode... "Love, Pain and the Whole Damn Thing"

As Amy and PJ's wedding approaches, the Heelers are distracted when two of their own disappear while camping in the National Park. Old friends and colleagues return to celebrate.