His lines of defence were dwindling. If Helena decided to take the day off, Jack would be left with only himself to discourage Randall's advances. Not that Jack had any objection to punching the guy, and maybe then kicking him depending on the situation, but he did have issues with prison cells.

Thankfully Randall was busily chatting to a photographer, who kept looking wildly around the room for an escape route. Jack covered his smile with a hand at the pained look that crossed the photographer's face as Randall leant in to whisper something. Other people were watching the pair as well, carefully avoiding the trapped man's gaze when he glanced around desperately again - it was cruel, but at least it wasn't them.

Jack winced as Randall laid a hand on the photographer's shoulder - he reckoned that in about three minutes, the reporter would have either worn the other man down enough for them to end up fucking in one of the unoccupied offices downstairs, or he would be lying on the floor with a camera lens embedded in his skull. In fact, the people in the corridor were very noisily taking bets on it.

"Poor kid. I feel like I should help him." Helena had apparently been taking walking lessons from a cat; Jack sprang out of his chair and cracked his knee on the underside of the desk.

"Fuck!"

Helena giggled and shoved him, knocking him back down into the seat. "You're an idiot."

"And you're evil. That hurt."

"Ooh, dear. Poor little you." She gave him a careful look. "You all right?"

"What? Yeah," Jack gave her a confused look. "Why?"

"You look different... Happy..." The woman shook her head and laughed. "Hell, never mind me. Come on, it's lunchtime. I'm hungry."

"You actually goin' to the canteen?" Aguirre had supplied his employees with the canteen only so he could cut back their official lunchtimes - therefore the food was notoriously unpleasant, and the only people who ate there either had no tastebuds or had a hell of a lot to do.

"No!" said Helena, fetching Jack's coat. "You are taking me to Tao. I want noodles for lunch."

"I'm takin' you?"

"Yup. I want to discuss the reason you're looking so happy."

"Erk.." Jack tripped over his chair as he stood up. She couldn't know, could she? He wasn't meant to let anyone know!! And he'd already told Christian too... Fuck...

"My sister," said Helena, heading for the door, "Nosy cow. Can't stand her frankly. But she has her uses. Watches her neighbours like a hawk. And now I think I may know things, Jack Twist." She span in the doorway and leant against the doorframe. "Which is why you are buying me lunch."

The man groaned and trudged after her. As he reached the staircase there was the unmistakable sound of a keyboard smacking down onto someone's head, and a cheer went up.



"Come on then! Receipts before I give you the cash! Who bet on the keyboard?"

Ennis wiped his hands on one of the old rags he kept around the place, and stood back. The car engine in front of him gleamed - he'd spilt oil on it accidentally, when something had reminded him of Jack, and he'd had to clean it off. It kind of gave him a feeling of satisfaction knowing that it was perfect again because of him.

Because of him.

It had a nice ring to it, and Ennis liked a compliment now and then.

Last night, Jack gasping for breath, a stupid grin on his face, eyes barely able to focus on anything but the man who had caused his condition - his expression the nicest compliment the mechanic had ever received. Lying there all exhausted and happy, because of Ennis.

"Damn..." Now he had to find something to hide behind... Did Jack have to look that hot when he was fucked-out?

Well, yes. But he didn't have to remember it!

Ok, he kinda did.

Highly confused by the commentary occurring in the depths of his own brain, Ennis slammed the car's hood down and peered out of the garage, saved from probable insanity by the purr of an engine. There was an expensive and all-too familiar looking saloon prowling up to the entrance.

From the sound alone, Ennis could hear nothing wrong, but when the car stopped and its owner climbed out he could certainly see something wrong. The man looked terrible.

"Mr. Lachlan?"

Christian blinked repeatedly and nodded in a distracted way. "There's a set of scratches over there." His gesture was so vague the scratches could have been anywhere from the front bumper to six miles down the road.

Ennis took a look around the other side of the Mercedes and knelt down to inspect the damage. The scrapes were deep, gouging into the metal, rather than just skimming the paintwork.

"You musta been goin' at a fair pace when it happened," muttered Ennis, "It'll take a bit to fix."

"No worries." Still looking slightly spaced out, Christian pressed his car keys into Ennis's hands. "Just take it."

"I'll have it back to normal by next week." Ennis retreated from his customer, not liking the new, edgy Christian at all.

"No."

"Well, I can't get it done any sooner," growled Ennis.


"I mean, take it. Take the car."

Ennis gave Christian a look of polite incomprehension.

"Take the car, sir?"

"Keep the damn thing! I don't want it! Too much hassle!" Every phrase was barked out harshly.

"I can't afford to pay - "

"It's a gift, all right? Just take it. Please." The last word was pitiful, jammed into the conversation by a man rapidly becoming unglued around the edges.

Ennis found a chair that was relatively clean and herded the other man towards it, not wanting to spark anything unpleasant by grabbing his arm. And anyway Christian reeked of alcohol; Ennis didn't need that smell rubbing off on him while there was still half a working day left.

The mechanic scrambled away to get a mug of coffee and came back a few minutes later to find the Bostonian with his head in his hands, looking as miserable as humanly possible. He still took the coffee with a nod of thanks, and then a grimace at the taste.

"Fuck..." He gulped a mouthful of the gritty coffee down. "I am such a screw-up." He looked up at Ennis and, much to the mechanic's surprise, blushed. "Damn. And now I look like a complete idiot." He waved the mug expansively, only just managing not to spill any of the liquid inside. "Take my advice - or maybe don't, cause I'm really pissed right now - if you ever find your teenage daughter trying to open your liquor cabinet, do not give her the key and join her in drinking the entire contents. It's not smart."

Ennis shrugged and turned away uncomfortably. Christian sighed behind him, and there was a clink as he set the mug down. The Bostonian stood up and placed a hand on Ennis's shoulder. The mechanic turned around slightly to meet his client's gaze.

There was a moment's careful silence. Then Christian nodded and stepped back.

"All right. All right. You seem like an honest man, a good guy. I think that'll do."

Ennis frowned in confusion, but said nothing. The coffee might have sobered the other man up a bit, but he was still obviously pretty drunk and was therefore not required to make sense. Christian grinned and turned on his heel, heading for the door.

"Er... Your car, sir!" Ennis yelled after him. "What d'you -?"

Christian didn't stop, but turned around anyway, shoes scuffing backwards on the concrete floor. "I was serious. Keep it. I don't need to remember this day every time I get in my damn car."

And then Ennis was left alone, holding the keys to his new car, and wondering about the kindness of strangers.



Jack wasn't really at home in a place like Tao. It was very... well, it was very different to most of the places he'd ever eaten in before. Mostly because they were either truckstop cafes, or those horribly plush restaurants that Lureen dragged him into.

But Helena was apparently playing the old blackmail card, and there wasn't anything Jack could do to stop her. Asides from running away.

And now his fellow columnist was giving him a long hard look over the top of her bowl. He shifted awkwardly on his chair, not liking the sudden attention.

"Yeah?" Fine, if she wanted a fucking conversation she could have one. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Your new friend." Only Helena could pour that much suggestion onto that word. Jack gritted his teeth in mild annoyance.

"I ain't really followin' you," he said, "What new friend?"

"The mechanic that lives on Frank Street across the road from my sister." Helena blew on forkful of noodles. "He's hot apparently."

"We're just friends, Helena. Just friends." And Jack splashed his words with as much emphasis as he could as well, getting his point across. But because there was something about Ennis's plan for a secret relationship that grated on his nerves he added: "That's all he'll allow us to be."

Helena gave Jack a sympathetic look as she chewed.

He slumped back in his seat, knowing he'd lost completely. "I'm gonna hafta tell you everythin', ain't I?"

She swallowed and nodded. "Yup."

"You can't tell anyone mind."

A roll of the eyes and a grudgingly agreeing shrug replaced words while Helena sucked up a particularly long noodle.

"Fine."

"From the beginning if you please. And in detail. We have an extra hour for lunch today."

"Since when."

"Since I said so. Come on. 'Fess up."