Author's note: Mostly talking, fluff and an upset little cook.


Nate was as good as his word. Ten minutes into the flight back to Alice Springs, he called Wapanjara.

Eliot was sitting in the kitchen with Effie, carefully dolloping banana muffin mix into cases one-handed. It was a fairly easy job, but Eliot's tendency towards OCD behaviour made him take special care, which made Effie smile.

Jo, sitting with Lizzie in the living room and showing her how to stitch the star design on her pouch with some warm golden-brown-dyed merino wool, quickly answered the call, even as Eliot managed to make his way into the living room with Effie in tow, eager to speak to his team.

"Wapanjara Station?" Jo said quietly, and she saw the lean, worried lines on Eliot's face as she waited. Her face broke into a smile and Lizzie squeaked with excitement. "Nate! Nate, it's good to hear your voice! You're safe?" She could tell Eliot was in an agony of apprehension, but he was stiffly trying to sit down on a dining chair with Effie gently making sure he didn't strain his wounds. "Wait a mo', " she said to Nate, and smiled at Eliot. "Easy, boy … they're fine. All of them. They're on the way home," she added as she saw the news suddenly transform Eliot's face from strain to profound relief. "Nate … here's Eliot."

Lizzie scrambled up from her armchair to stand beside Eliot, listening in to his conversation and this time Eliot didn't scold her for eavesdropping.

"Nate?" Eliot said as he put the telephone to his ear. "All good?"

Yeah … all done, Eliot. And we even managed to wind up the job while we were waiting. And before you bust every stitch you have, we didn't endanger anyone in the process.

Eliot, chest tightening with anger, had to take a deep breath and calm himself before answering.

"Dammit, Nate –" he rasped, his voice gravelly with dismay.

Now, now, Eliot … Nate's voice had a soft smile to it … Hardison did his stuff, we found out a loophole, Tom, Soph and Parker made it work and we took down Bushman, Pennicuik and Kremic. We'll tell you how when we get back. But it's finished with, Tom kept us safe and Dennis Burkhart's patent is legal and registered in his name, PLUS he gets his money back. Job done.

Eliot didn't know what to say. The muscles danced along his jaw, but with Lizzie beside him he couldn't let rip. Nate had promised not to endanger the team, and in Eliot's opinion he had possibly done just that, no matter that he said that his team … his family … had been safe enough.

I'm putting you on speakerphone, Nate said, and then the rest of Team Leverage was joining in, voices warm and settled, the voices Eliot heard when a job went right, the bad guys were beaten and a client had justice.

And in that moment his heart eased.

"Daddy!" Lizzie yelled right in his ear, and Eliot winced through a smile, holding out the 'phone so Lizzie could hear her family better. "Mama, are you alright? Is Alec there? Parker! Parker, did you get to climb anything? Tom, did they behave themselves? Did you have to yell at them, 'cause Eliot has to do that sometimes because they do silly things and they could get hurt and -"

And the babble of voices instantly became words of love and laughter.

I'm fine, my darling, I promise, and your father's okay too. We've missed you so much –

Hey, baby-girl! I got somethin' for you! But you'll have to wait for your birthday, a-ight?

No … no climbing. And your dad made me kiss a hairy little man! Blech !

Hey, Lizzie! I didn't have to yell at them, and they were very good, I promise! Everyone's safe and no-one got hurt

Lizzie beamed and jiggled with delight, and Eliot knew he couldn't burst her bubble of happiness. Effie stood beside him, placed a pudgy hand on his good shoulder and squeezed.

"See, you daft bludger?" she whispered. "Safe and sound. Just as Clever-clogs promised. You can stop all this bloody nonsense now and let yourself heal. Silly bastard," she added affectionately.

"Yeah … well …" Eliot muttered begrudgingly, hitching an eyebrow at the little cook, "it's just … it's my job, Eff. An' I should've been there."

Effie ruffled his hair, careful of the healing cut above his ear.

"Well, you young mongrel, you came home to look after us and nearly bloody well died doing it, so I think you've done more than enough, boy. Tom Reid's not you, but he did the job and did it well, laddie, so don't be so bleedin' hard on yourself."

Eliot let out a painful sigh and nodded reluctantly.

"Yeah … yeah, I guess. But –"

Eliot? Nate said, his voice breaking through the babble of voices.

"What?!" Eliot groused happily, the scowl working its way onto his face.

Jo could almost hear the smiles in the voices of her new family as Nate answered.

We'll be home tomorrow. We'll stay overnight in Alice, and then we'll drive home in Bernadette … be back late tomorrow afternoon. Nate's voice softened. Lizzie … your Mama and I miss you so much, sweetheart. We'll see you soon. Eliot? I promise we'll fill you in and show you we didn't cross the line … that I didn't cross the line. And we need to sit down as a team and discuss some stuff.

Eliot's scowl deepened a little, his brows drawn down into arches of concern.

"What kinda stuff, Nate? What's –"

Look, gotta go, Nate interrupted, it's all good. See you when we get back, Lizzie. Love you, sweetheart!

And then he was gone, Lizzie yelling goodbye and Eliot left wondering just what Nate meant by 'stuff.' The man sounded cheerful enough, as he always did after a job well done, but that didn't mean the 'stuff' wasn't a burgeoning threat. Eliot's 'spidey-sense' prickled.

But there was nothing he could do about it. Lizzie was thrilled her family was on its way home to her beloved Wapanjara, and no-one was hurt. The job was done and done well, despite Ponomarenko's presence.

So now he had to wait some more, but at least his team was safe. Eliot finally allowed himself a grudging smile. He had been right to ask Tom to watch out for them.

"C'mon, bug-a-lugs," Effie said, giving Eliot a prod in his good shoulder, "banana muffins don't cook themselves, now do they?"

Eliot snorted.

"Guess not," he grumbled, and carefully eased himself out of the chair. He took a moment to let the pain settle and Effie chewed her lip as she managed to stop herself from helping him. She knew from long experience that Eliot, stubborn man that he was, needed to begin to do things on his own, to push his damaged frame into doing what he wanted it to do and to hell with the fact that he wasn't anywhere near ready. By Effie's estimate, after years of Eliot-wrangling, she knew he was probably two weeks too early to be pushing himself like this. But, she mentally sighed, it was Eliot Spencer they were dealing with, and Eliot Spencer marched to the beat of his own drum, no matter how difficult he made it for himself.

Eliot managed to get to his feet on his own and gave Effie a cheeky grin.

"See? I got it, Eff," he said, the gruffness of pain still in his voice, but even as Lizzie clasped his free hand, he gave her a Lizzie-smile. "M'okay, 'Lizbeth Grace. I'm gettin' better, darlin'. I promise."

"I know," Lizzie whispered, patting his hand. "I know." But in her heart she knew he wouldn't be settled in himself until their family was home safe.

"Right, young lady!" Jo interrupted briskly. "Do you want this pouch decorated and stitched up or not?" She held up the half-completed star on the front of the pouch.

"Oh yes!" Lizzie said brightly, and looked up at her guardian who raised an eyebrow. "Is that alright, Eliot? You … you'll be okay? You won't try to do too much? Promise?"

Eliot's eyes sparked blue with pride in his best girl.

"I promise," he rasped, and the warmth in his words made Lizzie's heart sing. Her Eliot was on the mend.

So Eliot made his slow, painful but independent way back to the kitchen followed by a hovering Effie, and Lizzie returned to the living room table where Jo had the pieces of the pouch spread out in front of her.

She flopped down in her chair as the setting sun streamed in through the window, setting Jo's auburn-silver curls aflame like a halo, and Lizzie felt so much better now that her family was safe and coming home to Wapanjara and Eliot was finally healing.

Jo watched as Lizzie sat and gazed at the disassembled pouch on the table. The little girl arranged the various bits and pieces so that she could gauge how it would all fit together, but she could see Lizzie's mind was elsewhere.

"Grandma Jo …"

Jo busied herself with loading the heavy needle with wool so she could help Lizzie finish the design on her pouch, but she glanced at Lizzie, who was obviously pondering something.

"Yes, Lizzie. What is it? What's on your mind?"

Lizzie let out a deep sigh.

"We have to go home to Portland soon."

Jo nodded.

"That's true."

The two of them sat silently for a moment or two before Lizzie continued.

"Can … can I come back to Wapanjara someday? With Eliot?"

The look of yearning which appeared on Lizzie's face made Jo's heart swell.

"Lizzie, sweetheart … you can all come back to Wapanjara whenever you want. You will always be welcome here."

Lizzie's face broke into a huge smile, full of hope and longing and love.

"Really? Seriously? You don't mind? You and Grandpa Soapy and Effie and Charlie?"

Jo nodded, her face serious.

Lizzie blew out her cheeks in a sigh of relief.

"Eliot said we could come back, but I thought maybe … maybe I should ask you too. Eliot says he might let me come back with him on my own if Mama and Daddy say it's okay, but … but Eliot says he might want to bring a lady instead! Why?"

Jo had to momentarily cover her mouth to stop the laugh.

"Um … well, Lizzie … Eliot's been coming home here to Wapanjara for years, and he hasn't brought a lady with him so far, so … I think it's safe to say you can come with him whenever your parents and Eliot say it's okay."

Jo knew very well that Eliot had no intention of getting permanently involved with a woman, and while it saddened her, she understood why. He had his team and he had Lizzie, all of whom he had to keep safe, and their lives were dangerous. He couldn't allow more holes in his armoured heart.

"Good-oh!" Lizzie exclaimed, happy now that her plans for frequent trips home to Wapanjara were a step closer to fruition. "That's bonzer!"

Delighted now, she grinned at Jo and reached out for a slice of walnut cake from the plate Effie had placed on the table for Jo and Lizzie to munch on as they worked. Happily taking a bite she suddenly flinched.

"Ow!" she said, and spat out the mouthful into her hand along with a tiny spot of blood. She paled with shock. "Grandma Jo! I'm bleeding!"

Jo, concerned, put down the wool and cupped Lizzie's face.

"Open your mouth, sweetie … let me see …"

Lizzie, frightened, opened her mouth so Jo could look at the damage. A large gap was blatantly evident in the upper row of baby teeth, and Jo smiled.

"Don't worry, Lizzie – you've just lost a tooth. Didn't you feel it being loose?"

Lizzie, now very relieved, nodded shakily.

"Yeth!" and then she giggled, loving the lisp. "Juthst a bit! It wath a bit wibbly, but …" she stared at the mouthful of walnut cake, and fished out the tooth. "Look!"

Jo nodded sagely.

"Well now, what are you going to do with it? The tooth fairy usually collects them, you know. I don't know what the going rate is, but if you leave it under your pillow –"

Lizzie, busy probing the hole with her tongue, furrowed her brow in thought and stared at the tooth.

"I don't know," she said, and turned the tooth over in her fingers. Reaching out for paper napkins, she carefully wrapped the tooth in one and the mouthful of cake in another. "I'll get a new one thoon, won't I?"

"Indeed you will, and you'll slowly lose all the rest of your baby teeth. You're growing up, Lizzie, my girl!"

Lizzie grinned a gap-toothed grin, delighted with herself, the tiny, sudden pain instantly forgotten. She popped the tooth into her pocket and then slid off her chair.

"I'll be back in a minute," she said. "I'm gonna show Eliot and Effie my gap!"

And carrying the wrapped cake in one hand she dashed into the kitchen.

Jo shook her head indulgently and began to study the half-finished design on the pouch, even as she could hear Lizzie excitedly show Effie and Eliot the gap in her teeth. But she couldn't stop the pang in her heart. She knew Eliot and his team would return to Portland at some point. Eliot wouldn't be fit to travel for a while, so she would have them all for a few weeks yet, but she always found saying goodbye to family painful. But they would be back, at least. Lizzie especially loved Wapanjara, and she would come back to them. She would come home.

With that in her mind, she turned her attention to the pouch and tried to chase away the sadness.


"We have to tell him, Nate!" Hardison insisted as he sprawled on the comfortable leather seat of the Lear.

Nate stared at the half-full coffee cup in front of him and took a half-hearted mouthful of one of the plateful of fancies supplied by the charter company's staff. The little iced cake was good, but it wasn't a patch on one of Effie's lamingtons.

"Yeah … yeah, I know," he said after swallowing the sweet morsel, and looked at each member of the team in turn. "But what do we say?" He waved his hands about helplessly. "'Hey, Eliot! We finished the job, but guess what? The Confessor cornered us in the airport and says he's going to kill you, but don't worry – it won't be for a little while yet? Oh, and by the way – he knows about Lizzie?'"

"Well, it's a start!" Sophie muttered as she slumped down beside Nate, helping herself to tea and a fancy. "That bastard … he just looks at my daughter and I will end him, and believe me when I say I won't need Eliot to do it."

Nate reached out and grasped Sophie's hand and squeezed.

"Lizzie's safe, Sophie … you know she is," he said, trying to be reassuring. "If Ponomarenko is an interrogator as Eliot says, then he's a manipulator … he knows how to mess with people's minds and knows where to find the chinks in peoples' armour. Lizzie? It's a no-brainer. You know how this works, Soph. Lizzie is just a button to press to get a reaction … to unsettle … to weaken us to get to Eliot."

Sophie arched a disdainful eyebrow.

"I know that, Nate, for goodness sake! His lack of bloody subtlety was nothing but crude, to say the least! Just because the moron made me angry doesn't mean I don't know what he's up to. He's trying to make me … us … a weak link."

She paused thoughtfully as she sipped her tea, and then sat back with a sigh.

"We always knew this could happen, Nate … that Lizzie could be a target to get to one or all of us. That's one of the reasons we made Eliot her guardian. If anyone could keep her safe, it was him."

"But Eliot's the target here," Parker interjected, curled up in a seat, knees tight against her chest. "If it's one thing Stinky could use to make Eliot crazy, it's threatening Lizzie."

"Stinky?" Tom said, picking up a couple of finger sandwiches.

"It's easier to say than Ponomarenko. Duh!" Parker said. Obviously Tom didn't grasp her logic. "Besides … did you smell his aftershave?" She shuddered.

Tom's lips twitched with amusement, but he raised an eyebrow at Nate.

"Just tell him," he said, "and now rather than when he's all healed up, mate. Right now you have a chance of stopping him going on the warpath. You have until he's fit enough to travel on his own to figure out your plan. If you're lucky," he added, his tone showing Nate that Tom knew exactly how Eliot worked.

"Look," Hardison countered, "I can do some digging and at least try and figure out Stinky's movements … see if we can find out just who the hell his employer is. If we have some sort of plan in place that Eliot can agree to, we have a chance of stoppin' him goin' off grid. If he does that, I won't be able to find him unless he wants to be found, and … and I won't know if he's alive or not. If Eliot dies, we'll never know."

Nate chewed the inside of his lip and gave a jerky nod of agreement.

"Do it. By the time we get back I want enough information to force Eliot into a corner. He's still sick enough so we can keep him confined for a few weeks, and it'll give us time to come up with a more solid plan." He frowned. "I still don't understand why we … well, Eliot … has been warned ahead of time. I mean … it'll drive Eliot crazy, I know. He'll go into overdrive trying to figure out how to protect the team. And Lizzie …" he shook his head, puzzled. "Lizzie's not in any official record. Every piece of paperwork Lizzie has is a forgery for her own safety and ours, but she's not exactly invisible. She goes everywhere with us."

Sophie sipped more tea as she thought more about the situation.

"Is there any way you can access Ponomarenko's cell phone?"

Hardison shook his head.

"Nah. Neither Bushman nor Pennicuik were in contact with the man, so no luck there." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Now if his car has GPS … but we don't know what he drives."

"Yes, we do," Tom said eagerly. "Audi Spyder, R8, I think. Coupé, red, left-hand drive. Don't know the registration, but it's an expensive car and this one's a foreign import. It shouldn't be too difficult to track down. I can give an old friend a call if you like."

Hardison was already on his laptop, busy finagling his way into the New South Wales Vehicle Registration database.

"No need, Tom … gimmee a minute … huh … here we go …" A database search box popped up, and Tom peered over Hardison's shoulder.

"How the hell do you do that?" he asked, wonder and not a little irritation in his voice. "Is it really that easy?"

Hardison shrugged, but he couldn't hold back a smug purse of his lips.

"Sorry, m'man – these kinds of databases are not too difficult, because there're only a few types used worldwide. Gettin' in isn't too difficult –" He stopped for a moment as he inputted the information Tom had given him. He hitched an eyebrow. "Huh." He waited as information scrolled onto the screen.

"Got something?" Nate asked hopefully.

"Somebody should tell Stinky that drivin' a left-hand drive bright red Audi coupé makes him kinda noticeable. There's one on the database … a rental … "

Tom pointed at the screen and waggled a finger, telling Hardison to scroll down.

"The Rego* will tell you exactly when it came into the country, and the rental company will have had to applied for the transfer in person at head office in Sydney."

Hardison did as Tom suggested and worked his way down the display and Tom jabbed at the screen.

"There you go – VIN number … registration details, owner and so on …" Tom squinted at the screen and brought out a pair of spectacles from his jacket breast pocket. "There's the rental company …"

Hardison brought up a new page and did a quick search.

"Okay … come to poppa .. Collaroy Executive Car Hire …" Hardison's eyebrows raised. "Man, do they hire out some very classy rides!"

Now Sophie was perusing the screen.

"No limos, Daimlers … hardly executive. This is more … I don't know … flashy new money, all footballer's wives and over-indulged Wall Street traders. Or organised crime," she added, glancing at Nate.

Hardison frowned in concentration as he dug around for further information on the car, and he suddenly grinned in satisfaction.

"Yeah … that's what I'm talkin' about!" he hissed. "The car's got a smartphone interface as part of its upgrade package."

"Can you access it?" Nate asked.

Hardison shook his head.

"Not from here. I got go back to the factory records, so that means Neckarsulm," he explained. "That's Audi Böllinger Höfe … the main factory. These cars are hand-built and each component is tailor-made for each vehicle. I have to access the codes and security algorithms for the on-board computer. Then I can hack the interface and tap into Stinky's cell."

"How long will that take?" Tom asked, intrigued now.

Hardison, working now to track down the information he needed, didn't take his eyes off the screen as he answered.

"How long is a piece of string? Sometimes it takes me days, or – HAH! Gotcha!" he exclaimed in triumph. "Now all I gotta do is nail down the individual specs for the computer aaaaaand … there ya go!" He toggled a couple of screens and downloaded the records onto a pen-drive. "I triangulate the location of the car … input the access codes … ahhh … there you are, Stinky-boy … just where I want you … here we go …"

A voice suddenly broke into the tension-filled silence on the jet.

" – delivered, as you instructed. Tomorrow I begin to deal with Kremic and his associates in Bratislava. It may take me some time, but … it will be done." Tomas Ponomarenko's voice was a little distant, muffled as it was by the noise of wind and the throb of a high-spec car engine.

"Good … good … I will pass on the information to her. She will be very pleased … for now, as will her partner. How long for the Kremic situation to be resolved?" An unknown male voice redolent with the warm tones of Central America answered Ponomarenko's declaration, satisfaction oozing from every syllable.

"Two to three months, maybe," Ponomarenko said thoughtfully, having to shout a little over the wind-rush. "If I wish to be certain that every thread is broken and then destroyed."

There was a pause as the unknown man thought about the Confessor's answer, and then there came a sigh.

"Very well. She would have preferred a quicker resolution, but … that is the way of these things. Do you need anything? Money?"

Ponomarenko chuckled.

"I am well provided-for at the moment, so … no. I fly out next week to Bratislava, and then on to Venice in a couple of months. Maybe I will need more funds then, as well as a couple of my associates who will help with the final stages. After that … Spencer will be on my radar. Please reassure her that this will happen, although it will take time to plan."

The soft latin voice made a harrumphing noise, but when the man spoke again he was resigned to Ponomarenko's proposal.

"Call me tomorrow," he said, and then he was gone, and so was Ponomarenko.

Parker scowled.

"She? Who's 'she'? Can you track the incoming call to its source?" she asked

"Already workin' on it," Hardison replied, his brows drawn down in concentration. He sat muttering to himself as his team sat waiting impatiently, Parker tapping her fingers on the tabletop in front of her. Then he stopped suddenly and sat back.

"Dayum!" he snarked. "It's bein' bounced all over the damn place … wait … it … it's stopped in Rio!"

"As in Rio de Janeiro?" Sophie asked, surprised.

"How about the car rental firm? Anything odd there?" Nate demanded, ignoring his wife's comment which earned him a marked stare of disdain.

Hardison pursed his lips, dropped down the pages he was working on and brought up a whole new set and worked on them quickly, long, nimble fingers flying over the keyboard. He shook his head.

"Nah … nothin' just yet … leave me with it. We'll be in Alice in a few hours, so I got plenty of time."

Nate nodded.

"Okay. We'll decide how much we tell Eliot when we get to the hotel."

But Sophie shook her head and grasped Nate's arm, clutching his biceps so hard he winced.

"We tell him all of it, Nate. All of it," she said, her voice hard with passion and fear. "Including that bastard threatening our daughter."

"But he'll go crazy!" Parker interjected, her eyes wide with concern. "Eliot … even if he had no arms and legs and his head was missing he would go hunt Stinky down and disembowel him and feed him to some wolves and -"

"Babe … if Eliot didn't have a head, he'd be dead," Hardison said patiently even as he scrolled through files.

Parker waved her arms about, frustrated.

"Yeah! So? He'd still go after anyone who even looked at Lizzie wrong –"

"He'll not be a happy bunny," Tom said quietly, pondering the situation. "You know Eliot … family first. Number One on the Eliot Spencer scale of 'Who I Kill For.'

"Well, right now he can barely walk, so he's a bit stuck – he's just where we want him," Sophie said firmly. "I want my daughter's guardian to know about that piece of shit mentioning her. And yes, Stinky didn't threaten her straight out, but he didn't need to," she added with a deadly glint in her eye. "That threat will keep both Lizzie and Eliot safe ... at least for now, until we can figure this out."

Parker nodded, a grim smile forming on her elfin features.

"Yes … yes, you're right, Sophie. Clever! He'll be torn between staying and protecting Lizzie and us or cutting loose to go after Stinky. And, of course, we'll win, because he won't leave Lizzie 'cause he's convinced we can't keep her safe."

"And he'd be right," Sophie added solemnly. "We can't. We don't have his skills or his contacts. Mind you, he's hardly well enough to even get out of a chair on his own. At least if he tries to make a break for it we can tackle him before he gets too far. I think," she added doubtfully. "However, we can't leave Wapanjara for a few weeks yet until he's well enough to travel, so we as a team are safer at Wapanjara than back home in Portland. We have remoteness and family to help. Thank god!" she muttered softly.

And there was their answer. Until Eliot was healed they would stay at Wapanjara with their new family, surrounded by an unforgiving land and supported by people like Soapy and Jo … even Effie, a mean hand with a shotgun and the nearest skillet. Eliot and Lizzie would be as safe there as anywhere else on earth. Now all they had to do was convince Eliot that this plan was the answer to Ponomarenko's threat for now. Eliot didn't care about his own safety, and Ponomarenko's threat wouldn't faze him. But Lizzie? No-one … no-one … would threaten his best girl and live to tell the tale.

Nate studied his team and saw the truth in their eyes.

"So … we're okay with this? We tell Eliot everything and just hope he doesn't go on a one-man warpath?"

"We'll deal with it," Sophie said, her eyes steady and determined. "We'll manage. Until Eliot's back on his feet we have to protect both of them. And I want to find out more about this woman who has some sort of vendetta against Eliot … and, for all we know, against us."

And so as Hardison bent to his task, the rest of the team settled back in their comfortable seats and tried not to think about the smug certainly that had graced Tomas Ponomarenko's face as he turned back to the shadows and disappeared.


"I'm gettin' damn tired of this," Eliot rasped as Jo carefully pulled the packing from the wound beneath his left arm.

"You have to let Grandma Jo look after you –" Lizzie began, wrapping both hands around Eliot's as it lay on the back of the seat.

Eliot gave her a crinkly smile even as the packing stuck in the open wound and Jo had to carefully tease it free.

"I know, darlin' … I know. I'm just … I'm tired, 'Lizbeth Grace. I've done nothin' all day and I can barely stay awake. An' I can't seem to shake free of it." He hissed in pain as the dressing finally came free, and Jo murmured an apology. Eliot dropped his head on his arm as he sat astride the big chair, and Lizzie patted his arm sympathetically. She looked up at Jo with worried dark eyes.

Jo smiled at both of them as she began to dress the wound.

"Eliot … son … you've two bullet holes in you, you're recovering from concussion, blood loss and a broken rib, and you're wondering why you're so tired? So rest and stop worrying about it. And you can stop worrying about your team because they're safe and on their way home. You'll see them tomorrow, and we can sit down and have a celebratory dinner. How does that sound?"

"I think that thounds yummy!" Lizzie exclaimed with a little toothy whistle through the gap in her teeth.

Eliot shifted his head so that it lay sideways on his arm and closed his eyes against the bright light in the kitchen. Effie was clattering about making their late-night hot chocolate and warming some of her delicious scones, but she took the time to rest her hand gently on Eliot's head for a moment, reassuring him.

"I'll make one of your favourites if you like, you silly bludger. What do you fancy?"

Eliot flinched as Jo began repacking the wound, but he smiled.

"Pan-fried catfish with yabbies," he murmured. "An' avocado salsa … maybe nectarine salad?" he asked hopefully.

Effie snorted. "Yabbies? Where the bloody hell am I supposed to get yabbies?" She sighed noisily. "S'pose I'd better send Mister M and Lizzie here to go catch some in the creek tomorrow, hey?"

Lizzie's eyes rounded with curiosity.

"Whath's a yabbie?" she said with a breathy whistle.

Eliot's smile widened but he didn't say anything. He just rested quietly and let his eyes gain some relief from the light.

"It's like a crayfish," Jo said. "Eliot just so happens to be very, very fond of yabbies."

"Good eats," Eliot whispered sleepily.

"And I think the nipper here should help the Yank make a cake for afters," Effie added. "Chocolate, maybe. With pecans."

"Can I?" Lizzie asked breathlessly. "I can do the baking thing, and Eliot can help! Can't you, Eliot?" She patted Eliot's arm again, but there was no response. "Eliot?"

Jo finished taping the bandage around Eliot's chest and shoulder and studied her patient.

"Oh dear," she said quietly, an indulgent smile on her lean face. "Now what do we do?"

Eliot was asleep.

"He's still pretty crook, Missus," Effie commented, and she touched Lizzie's shoulder. "C'mon nipper – let's see if we can get him awake enough to shove him into his bloody bed, the daft mongrel. He's going to be pretty bung for a while yet." Effie's pudgy features softened into what – for her – resembled a smile.

Lizzie thought about it for a moment, and studied Eliot. When he slept as easily as this, the fierceness of his features softened and he looked younger … at peace. She didn't want to disturb him, but he had his antibiotics to take and also try to eat something before bedtime. Jo really wanted his energy levels to improve.

"Eliot?" she whispered, tapping his arm. "Eliot! You have to wake up! You can't thstay here, thilly!"

For a second or two Eliot didn't respond, but then his eyelids flickered and he frowned sleepily.

"M'sleepin'. Go 'way," he grouched.

"Get up, Eliot!" Lizzie insisted, and kissed the end of his nose, which made it twitch.

"Do I haveta?" he asked and yawned.

"Yeth!" Lizzie said, her voice now a lot louder and more insistent. "Grandma Jo hath to give you your pillth and you have to eat thomething." She sprayed a light spatter of saliva all over her best friend.

Eliot's eyes blinked open and he screwed his face up in disgust. Slowly prying his damaged body upright in the chair, he wiped his face with his sleeve.

"Dammit, Lizzie!" he rumbled and scowled at the child, who presented him with an expression of pure innocence.

"I can't help it!" She proclaimed. "Ith my toof! I got a lithp!"

The next spatter hit Eliot right in the eye. He sputtered, glared and then a delighted Effie handed him a tea towel to wipe away the mess.

By the time he had cleaned himself up, Jo was standing in front of him with his pills and a glass of water, Lizzie staring at him expectantly.

Muttering dire threats under his breath he took his medication and then slowly ate his way through a scone oozing with butter and jam. He had to admit to himself the food helped settle him, and managing to get to his feet, he made his own way to his bedroom and quietly shut the door.

"He's doing better, Effie." Jo said as she finished putting away the medikit.

Lizzie, sitting at the huge oak table and drinking her hot chocolate, watched as Effie turned around Eliot's chair and sat down, putting her own drink on the table before her.

"And it's about bloody time too, Missus," the old cook grated. "We came close to losing the silly bugger this time," she added carefully. "Too bleedin' close."

Mei wandered into the kitchen and sat down with her new family. She rubbed her eyes and yawned blearily.

"Jamie and Rose are asleep at last. I'm so tired!" she added, and stretched. "Where is Papa Soapy?"

"Over at the barn with Jacko checking the broodmares. It's just us girls left," Jo said, smiling ruefully. She placed a mug of the chocolate drink in front of the young woman who sipped it gratefully. "I think you should get some sleep Mei. Those two little tykes will be awake in a couple of hours wanting feeding again, so …"

Mei nodded, blinking, eyes gritty with tiredness.

"I will. Is the cowboy alright?" she asked. "Is he still sick? I can make more congee tomorrow –"

"He'll do, princess," Effie rasped, and patted Mei's arm. "His cold's a lot better and anyway, I'm making a special dinner tomorrow, so he'll manage some of that. If he doesn't I'll stick my gravy funnel in his gob and pour it into him," she added, brows in full scowling mode. She let out a huffing sigh and tapped Lizzie on the shoulder. "Righto, young 'un – it's way past your bedtime. If you're going with Mister M down to the creek to get me some yabbies, you'll have to be up bright and early, so drink up and get your bum to bed. Y'hear me?"

Lizzie nodded and couldn't control a yawn of her own.

"Ya-huh," she muttered, and drank the last mouthful of the chocolate. "Grandma Jo? Can I put my toof thomewhere safe?"

"Here, nipper," Effie said as Jo finished her own drink. "Put it in my bitso drawer." She turned around in her seat and pulled out a deep drawer in her old desk where she wrote out recipes and lists.

Lizzie slid from her seat and peered into the drawer to see a wealth of odd little treasures … bootlaces, an odd napkin ring … all little things that Effie thought might come in handy one day.

"Bit-tho drawer?" She asked, curious now.

"Everybody has a bitso drawer!" Effie exclaimed. "Bits o' this … bits o' that. Here …" she held out a small plastic bag and Lizzie carefully decanted her tooth and its napkin wrapping into it. Then she carefully placed the whole lot into the drawer, making sure it was securely snug between a handful of chopsticks held together with an elastic band and an old, ivory-handled potato peeler. "There now," the little cook said with satisfaction. "Safe as bloody houses!"

Lizzie helped Effie push the drawer shut and the little girl sighed. She was very tired, and missed the rest of her family. Effie held her arms wide and Lizzie melted into them, snuggling against Effie's solid bulk.

"I mith them, Effie," Lizzie mumbled, and Effie gave her a squeeze.

"I know, little 'un. But they'll be home tomorrow, hey? And you and the Yank have to help me bake a cake for your folks in the afternoon, so you've got a lot on. So …" Effie uncurled her arms and stood Lizzie straight. "Bed, nipper!"

As Lizzie reluctantly headed to her bed, Effie hauled her stubby body to its feet and began to rinse out mugs.

"Missus …"

Jo looked up and saw the tension in Effie's frame and waited for the explosion. She didn't have long to wait.

"I bloody hate this!" Effie railed.

Jo hitched an eyebrow and listened. There was obviously more to come.

Effie slammed Eliot's 'Keep calm and hug a camel' mug onto the draining board a little harder than necessary and Jo winced, expecting the mug to shatter, but like its owner the mug was made of sterner stuff.

"I'm sick of saying goodbye, Missus!" Effie continued. "We … we get the Yank, and all he wants to do is stay, but he doesn't! And when he does stay we seem to spend the time plugging up holes in his carcass! Boofhead!" she added huffily. "And now … now we got Clever-clogs and the Duchess, and … and … Sunbeam and Missy … and then there's the nipper! Our nipper! It's … it's like they've been sent to us proper. So they become a part of this place, but they can't stay! I'm gonna miss 'em. I'm gonna miss 'em something horrid!"

Effie threw her dishcloth viciously in the sink and swore under her breath. Jo didn't say a word.

"Missus … I know we asked 'em to come, to help find the bastard who killed our Alice. And now we got the Princess and our little babbies … but -"

"-you want more," Jo added with a sad smile. "I understand, Effie. I really do. And Lizzie has been speaking to Eliot and me about coming back, so don't be too sad. Our nipper will come home again. I promise."

Effie sniffed and Jo could see the unshed tears in the muddy eyes. Effie, underneath that bristly, crabby exterior, was pure mush. The rotund little woman sighed noisily and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"Well … that's better than nothing, I suppose." She began to put the mugs away, muttering to herself, still obviously upset.

Mei waved goodnight to Jo, but just as she tried to walk through the doorway, she almost collided with Soapy. She drowsily stood on tiptoe to kiss Soapy's cheek, and smiled at him.

"Watch out, Papa Soapy," she whispered loudly. "Miss Effie is feeling bloody terrible."

And she was gone, leaving Soapy a little bewildered even as he hesitated, glancing at Effie complaining to herself and Jo trying to look understanding.

Soapy opened his mouth, closed it again, and raised an enquiring eyebrow at his wife. Jo shook her head and looked despondent. Realising he had walked into an Effie explosion, he did the only thing he could do. He turned around and tried to run for it.

"Mister M!" Effie ground out, voice hoarse with anguish.

Soapy winced. Damn. He was a nanosecond too late.

"Yes, Eff?" he replied, trying to be as calm as he could.

"Six o' clock sharp, tomorrow morning!" Effie said with a growl.

"What … what about it?" Soapy asked.

"You and the nipper! I need yabbies for tomorrow's dinner time, so I'll have a billy can ready and some bacon rind! I need at least twenty! Bloody well sharpish!"

"Yabbies?" Soapy said faintly.

Jo raised her eyebrows at Soapy. Obviously he was being a bit dense.

"Oh …" Soapy backtracked "… alright. No worries. Yabbies. Gotcha."

Effie harrumphed to herself and wiped down the sink as Soapy put the kettle on to boil for tea. Soon he would return to the barn to check a broodmare who was looking about ready to drop her foal.

"I'm going to bed," Effie said abruptly, and stumping past Jo and Soapy, she headed out of the kitchen and along to her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Soapy stared at Jo, who sighed heavily.

"Just … don't ask," she said.

Soapy took the hint, stayed silent and returned to his tea.


Eliot awoke with a start, chest heaving and sweat sheening his skin. The dream had been vivid and horrific, all blood and children screaming and the smell of burning flesh from rapidly-burning aluminium mixture stuck to human skin.

He could feel the burn on his own fingers as he tried to scrape the stuff off, but it didn't work and the little girl he had tried to save died in his arms.

He swallowed bile and cradled his left arm with his right, trying to ease the terrible ache in his shoulder. Gradually his heartbeat slowed and he managed to sit up in bed, throwing back the covers and sitting sideways on the edge of the mattress. The night air drifting in from the open window helped, and he could see the mass of stars in the sky, silhouetting the buildings and trees that surrounded the homestead.

As his pain eased, he sucked in deep, cleansing breaths, ignoring the pull of his broken rib and the bullet holes in his side. He heard a scratching, rasping noise and then a soft squeak, which made Eliot smile.

Easing himself onto his feet he wandered over to the window and reached out to scratch Gertie's massive head as she leaned her chin on the sill. The huge camel began to hum.

Seating his damaged body on the edge of the window, Eliot gazed at the silent world outside and was comforted by Gertie's presence. The jasmine-scented air calmed his soul, and he felt better, Gertie solid and real beneath his hand.

He's coming, Damien Moreau said.

Eliot started with shock.

He's coming, my friend. For you. And her. The voice was smug with confidence.

"You gotta go through me, Damien!" Eliot growled, his heart pounding, "and no-one – no-one – will ever touch the girl!"

There was soft laughter, scornful and taunting, but even as Eliot bared his teeth and tried to shake the sound from his head, he knew in his heart that whatever had happened in Sydney, it wasn't over.

To be continued …


* Rego – a typical Australian contraction for the document that registers a vehicle, the 'Registration' or Rego.