A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed C2 and for all your kind comments … I am rushing to post this while my broadband is on, we have been having what Virgin calls "issues" … which is Virgin speak for the blessed thing keeps dropping out. As usual massive thanks to Flossy (a.k.a the Pied Piper) for her support. And so it begins …

-OG-

It was the same girl, the more he watched, the more convinced he was, although she did look different to the last time he'd seen her, he was sure her hair hadn't been hanging down her back like that, he'd have remembered. Although if he was being entirely honest he couldn't put his hand on his heart and swear to how much notice he'd actually taken of her at the time, all he could remember was being infuriated at having to rescue some bloody teenager from her own stupidity. And that was it, the sum total of his memory of that day, of being aggravated beyond belief and the sheer fucking agony in his leg. But somehow there was something about her, her voice or her laugh, something that rang all sorts of bells for him, not that she'd done much laughing that day. But now as she sat on the steps of the memorial she was falling about laughing at something and it felt like one of those memories that niggle away at you, when you know you know something, but can't quite put your finger on it. It felt familiar.

And as he watched her struggle to free strands of her hair that had stuck to her fingers, she'd badly misjudged the stickiness of peach pastry flakes, and had used her thumbs to try and flick it away from her face, something that hadn't exactly worked. But it was something she now seemed to be finding hilarious.

He was suddenly sure that her name was Molly, although he couldn't swear he knew it because she'd told him or if he'd heard her telling Giorgio, but the name Molly was somewhere there in his head.

The other girl produced a bottle of water with a triumphant shout and was also laughing as she flourished it in the air, and then tipped it over Molly's fingers before she started flapping them up and down in the air to dry. He had this memory of her doing pretty much the same thing when she'd been trying to crack some lame joke about it being proof she wasn't dead or some such nonsense, something that in retrospect actually struck him as vaguely amusing. Not so much that it was particularly funny, it wasn't, but his lips began to twitch at the memory of the expression on her face after she'd said it.

Now as she wiped her hands down the sides of the black shorts she'd swapped for her jeans he felt a wave of the same intense irritation he'd felt last time their paths crossed. He didn't know why, but he was suddenly angry. He knew perfectly well it was irrational at best, but he didn't give a flying fuck about any of that, not even what her name was, all he wanted to know was why she hadn't told him the truth. It must have been perfectly obvious to her that he wasn't exactly delirious at being lumbered babysitting some stray backpacker, so why hadn't she told him she was there for a job? She must have known he'd been trying to help, that he believed she'd mistaken the Aldo for a hostel, the least she could have done was tell him she was looking for the fucking place because of having a job there waiting for her? And there was no possible mistake, the girls were sporting identical black vests with a logo, presumably the hotel, and black shorts, so what was it all about? Was it supposed to have been some sort of joke or something, because it hadn't been the least bit funny as far as he was concerned.

But even though he was angry, he'd be the first to admit that his recall of that day wasn't particularly great, he couldn't swear she'd actually told him anything at all, apart from needing to find the Aldo, and he wasn't even sure she'd told him that much. It might have been him overhearing her struggle to tell Giorgio and he'd just piled in. And he couldn't remember asking her anything either, he couldn't really remember talking to her at all. It was entirely possible he'd been so bloody aggravated and downright fucking annoyed with the whole situation that he'd simply jumped to conclusions, he couldn't pretend he didn't know his fuse could be a bit on the short side these days.

The blonde girl was clearly a lot closer to his own age, and from a distance looked one hell of a lot like Rebecca. Her hair looked roughly the same, same length, same colour and she had the same long slim legs, she was definitely shapely enough in those shorts to remind him how long it had been since he'd last had any female company. She was tall, a lot taller than Molly, and even from a distance he could see she was pretty in much the same way as other girls who'd attracted him in the past had been pretty. He supposed she was what he'd call his type.

"'ello …"

As soon as she saw him appear outside the café to start doing his ashtray thing Molly had jumped up and literally bounced over to Giorgo, a wide grin on her face as he quite obviously recognised her, his delight at seeing her again was written all over him. Charles watched him greet her in true Italian style, he kissed her enthusiastically on both cheeks before doing a lot of flamboyant arm waving accompanied by a rapid burst of Italian. It seemed to take her aback for a second, almost as though she hadn't been expecting it, Giorgio's face was wreathed in his best smiles.

"Buon … what is it again?"

Molly turned to the blonde who stage whispered in her direction.

"Oh yeah …ta … buon pomeriggio?"

Giorgo looked absurdly delighted and responded with another rapid and prolonged burst of Italian and more arm waving as Molly stood looking at him with a slightly strained reciprocal grin on her face. Charles had no doubt that she had absolutely no idea what the little café owner was saying to her, and couldn't help a reluctant little smile lifting the corners of his lips, although he was careful to keep his gaze firmly on his empty cup on the table. He couldn't help feeling a little burst of admiration for the amount of effort she was putting in to try and communicate, or at least enough to get by.

In the four days she'd been there, the time had spun past in a heartbeat to Molly. They weren't busy, had very little to do because the hotel was nowhere near full and anyway it seemed to her that it ran like a well-oiled machine, everyone seemed to know exactly what they were doing. Except her. You had to hand it to Frannie, she had things well under control, but Molly still had no clear idea what the fuck she was supposed to be doing all day, well, apart from trailing round after Frannie and laughing at her jokes because the other girl clearly loved an audience. But she was a scurrilous gossip, meaning Molly spent a great deal of her time looking round anxiously, even though she knew the Signora didn't speak English, or so Frannie said. She'd also said she was very rarely there and that much seemed to be true, Molly had only caught fleeting glimpses of the boss lady, but she wasn't 100% sure that the Signora wouldn't know exactly what was so funny. The Aldo didn't belong to Signora whatsits, apparently it belonged to the boyfriend, well, according to Frannie anyway, but if he was anything like as old and ugly as she said, he'd have to be bloody stinking rich to explain the boss spending so much time keeping him happy in bed, leaving Frannie in charge.

A couple of hours after lunch was officially siesta when everyone got time off, but only when, like now, the hotel was slack, when it got busy they could apparently forget it and would have to take it in turns. But even though it was bloody hot neither of them were tired, they didn't want to sleep and opted instead for a little wander down to the market square. Frannie reckoned she'd never been there before, said she'd always gone down to Garda proper when she got sick of the Aldo and the people in it, always made a bee-line for the beach front where all the tourists were, and where the action was. The restaurants and pavement cafes and the bars were all there which meant it was usually packed and lively, Frannie called it her happy place. She'd winked as she said it which left Molly in no doubt what she meant by happy or action for that matter, so that Molly had dropped the subject, she wasn't sure she wanted to know, and she didn't even have to ask about the two lads on the staff, she just knew somehow that they definitely weren't on Frannie's radar.

Molly hadn't really seen much of Stefan who looked like a pencil, he was Swedish and very tall and skinny and even though he was older than her, he looked about 12. He had fuzzy blonde hair that was nearly white and was cut so short the pink of his scalp was showing through and his eyelashes were pretty much the same, so fair he looked like he was bald. The first time she'd met him she'd badly wanted to laugh, he reminded her so much of the White Rabbit from the Alice In Wonderland book she used to love. And he was bloody paranoid about being plastered in factor 50 when he went out the door, making Molly wonder why the fuck he'd chosen Italy and not somewhere cloudy and damp or something, somewhere cold and wet would probably suit him better. But apparently, his girlfriend was nanny to a minted couple who had a holiday villa in Garda which was dead posh, had a pool and that which Stefan was allowed to use, so that explained a lot. Marco, the other one, was very definitely Italian. He was very, very good looking and bloody knew it, had these deep dark eyes and glossy black curls, but he was also very short. He was much shorter even than Frannie, which he hated. He was not only really good looking but dead vain, had trouble walking past windows without trying to catch little glimpses of himself, kept stopping to check his hair. Molly longed to tell him that using so much shit on it didn't really help the gloss on his curls as much as make his head look like an oil slick when you got close. Still, she liked him a lot even though she hadn't got a scooby what he was talking about most of the time, his lack of height was a huge plus in her book because just for a change it meant someone wasn't looking down on her. And he was obviously gay. Which made it bloody hard for her not to laugh at him when he spent so much time and effort trying to charm her into believing he was attracted to her. He was always trying to make out he was an Italian stallion, god's gift to every female he met.

-OG-

"Found it alright then?"

Fuck, he didn't know he was going to do that or indeed why he'd spoken to her instead of just picking up his phone and leaving, but regretted the impulse immediately. For fuck sake he should have just nodded at her if he had to, and then left. He hadn't got the slightest wish to walk up that bloody hill with her, not to mention the other girl, he didn't trust there'd be no pain in his leg and the last thing he wanted was to risk a repeat of the last time.

"'ello … yeah … well, as you can see, I'm 'ere … so yeah, I did, yeah … ta …"

Oh fuck, Captain Cock was in the bloody café again and she was waffling, her mouth had started flapping without her brain giving her permission to open her trap, what was it about him made her do that? Maybe she should be telling herself she should be sorry for him, that it was sad he had nowhere else to go, or more likely no-one else to talk to. Which served him bloody right, didn't it?

"Who's he? …I thought you told me you didn't know anyone here" The volume of Frannie's stage whisper was anything but a whisper as Molly pulled frantic shut your gob faces. She didn't want to have to talk to him and for some reason it felt awkward and embarrassing that she couldn't even introduce him, but she didn't know his name. Although that wasn't her fault, was it? Why it should be embarrassing she didn't know, but she couldn't introduce him as Captain Cock, could she? Even though it suited him.

"Sssssshhh … dunno, do I?… why would I? How would I know, don't know 'im, he was … he was … it was 'im saved me from being lost when I got 'ere … that's all … I really don't know 'im"

Shit, more waffle.

"Really?" Frannie started laughing "Did you just say you don't know him?" Now she was taking the piss "I thought you said the bloke who helped you was an arsehole?"

"I never…"

"Yes you did … and you definitely didn't say anything about him being hot, I'd have remembered" She sniggered "Believe me I always remember things like that"

"Shut up will you …"

Molly felt her face getting hot as she whispered, trying to give Frannie a hint about keeping the volume down, and was horrified to see the way she looked him up and down as he walked to the door. She was cringing as he stood chatting with the hobbit, if that had been the other way round and he'd been the one doing that, Frannie would have been screaming about sex pests. But what was even worse was Molly knew he had to have heard every single word. He might have looked at her like he'd scraped her off his shoe last time she'd seen him, but he hadn't shown any signs of being bloody Mutt and Geoff, had he? She wished more than anything that Frannie would stop ogling him quite so blatantly.

And she hadn't lied, had she? She hadn't noticed him being hot, didn't remember even thinking he was. She remembered the dark hair and eyes and that she'd thought he spent a lot of time in the sun getting that tan. But mostly that was because she'd felt so bloody pasty next to him the way you do when you go on holiday and everyone else is brown and your legs are the colour of milk bottles. And at first she had thought he could be Italian or maybe even Greek with his colouring but then she'd been really bloody grateful that he wasn't, she'd needed someone who spoke English and at that point she hadn't worked out that he was an unfriendly pig. And she wasn't blind, of course she'd noticed he hadn't exactly been hit by the ugly stick, but that was it, wasn't it? By the time they'd started up that hill she'd been far too busy hating him to notice anything else, except for him being 19 foot tall and looking like he hadn't shaved for about a week. Although to be fair she'd sort of thought his stubble looked deliberate and not just that he was a lazy git who couldn't be arsed, although she'd be hard pressed to say what the difference was. Stubble was stubble, nothing different about it was there? But this time she couldn't help the way her eyes kept being drawn to the elastic band on his wrist, even though she was doing her best not to look at it.

"Come on, we came in 'ere for gelato … I'm 'aving chocolate, what about you?" She bent forward to whisper at Frannie "'n stop it, will you? Stop perving"

"I'm not, he's hot … and when you've been here a few weeks you'll be the same, desperate to appreciate the finer things in life when you get the chance … and he's got a nice bum …" She giggled loudly "And course you're having chocolate, you always have chocolate"

"It's one of me five a day… and just shut up 'bout him, will you?"

"In a minute … is he here on his own do you think? That's a bit strange if he is, coming here on holiday on his own …"

"Probably got a wife and six kids waiting at home … come on hurry up and choose …"

"No … no ring … I notice these things … maybe he needs someone to keep him company? He's definitely not local, I'd recognise him if he was"

"Listen, how would I bleeding know … 'n 'im not wearing a ring don't mean anything … look, told you, I don't know 'im … now can we talk about some'ing else?"

He couldn't help smirking even though he was doing his best to concentrate on saying his farewells to Giorgio, something that always took a long time. He wasn't looking at them, but couldn't help overhearing every word of the stage whispered conversation.

"How about we get these and then go and 'ave a little butcher's at the shops … see what there is 'ere?"

"No, better not … better get back to the mother ship, it's getting late" Frannie grinned a grin that was full of evil mischief as she pulled rank and checked her watch.

Molly inclined her head towards where he was still standing talking and did her best to tell Frannie without words, with a series of nods and frowns and eyebrow lifts instead that they should wait for him to bugger off first. She was trying to tell her she'd got no wish to make another attempt on the Olympic record of how hot and sweaty you can get keeping up with some Rupert with legs like a daddy-long-legs. And that climbing up some steep hill when you're not even wearing proper shoes was not going to happen, not if she had any choice, flip flops were hard enough to walk in anyway. The whole thing reminded her far too much of being a squaddie. Not the flip flops, but the having to try and keep up with people who were a lot taller with much longer legs. Never mind all the bullshit about it getting late, it wasn't. She'd be quite happy to hang about listening to Giorgio saying fuck knows what while they waited for the Rupert to go on up and then follow. When he'd gone.

"What are we waiting for?" Frannie did her best to paste an innocent expression on her face and a puzzled tone into her voice which made Molly long to slap her "I thought you were going to give Marco his English lesson …"

Molly saw his eyebrows go shooting up, and pure blind hatred flooded her. He might be talking to the hobbit, but it was plain as the nose on his bloody face that not only was he listening to their private conversation, but he thought the whole idea of her teaching anyone English was fucking hilarious. Typical Rupert. It had been years but it didn't take much to take her right back there, to remind her how bad she used to feel when they decided to show how clever they were by making her doubt herself, when it seemed it was okay to judge by her accent. Which in their eyes made her thick as shit.

"Yeah, he said you was useless, only teaching 'im to swear and he wants to know how to chat up English girls"

"Girls?" Frannie snorted.

"Yeah, think he thinks I'll be shocked if he tells me different …"

"Prat…"

"Me?"

"No … alright you … but only sometimes"

"Thanks a bunch …"

He was on the brink of walking away to tackle the hill when another inexplicable impulse made him turn his head to look at her again. It was obvious from the tan and the smattering of freckles that she'd been spending a fair bit of time in the sun, but it was her eyes that made him stop dead. Why hadn't he noticed that her eyes were beautiful. She had eyes like a little faun, but they were eyes that narrowed into a glare of anger and hatred as she caught him looking at her. She deliberately turned her back to make it very plain she was ignoring him. He was left asking himself how the fuck he could have missed seeing just how pretty she was. Not that it was an issue, she wasn't like her mate, there was no question of her being the type of girl that attracted him, she was not only far too young, but she wasn't a tall leggy blonde either, she was just too different.

"Hey … wait for us …"

Oh fuck. After nodding his farewells to the blonde, Molly had still had her back turned, he'd set off to tackle the hill on his own, confident that there was no danger of having to walk with them. His immediate reaction when he realised they were following close behind him was to pretend he was suffering a convenient bout of deafness, but then common good manners dictated that showing himself to be a liar wasn't his bag. He knew they wouldn't just give up, or she wouldn't, he knew instinctively that she was made of sterner stuff than that, so gritted his teeth and waited for them to catch him up instead. He wanted to kick himself. Knowing it was his own fault made it worse somehow, he should have left when they were busy choosing ice cream, that would have given him enough of a head start, although one small mercy was that his leg was relatively pain free. The niggling discomfort was back to being no worse than a muscle twinge of the seriously unfit, something he was going to have tackle before very much longer.

"Nah … s'alright … you two go on … don't wait for me … I'll be fine"

"Of course not, we're not going without you … we'll wait …"

"Nah … really … don't matter … I know the way … you go on 'n I'll see you back there"

Molly was desperate for Frannie to get the message that she wanted her to just sod off and take him with her. She'd had to stop for about the fiftieth time to sort out her feet, and had decided it would be a bloody sight easier to yank off her bloody flip flops and carry them, that walking on warm cobbles in bare feet couldn't possibly be any worse than slipping and sliding and stumbling over them. And having to keep stopping to put them back on, and then stopping to take them off again to get rid of all the little bits of grit that kept killing her feet, they were hurting to buggery and her calf muscles weren't much better. She hadn't thought anything could be harder than walking up the sodding hill last time when she'd been carrying a backpack that weighed a ton, but without proper shoes it was even worse, wasn't it? She was going to kill Frannie once they got shot of him. If it hadn't been for her being so keen to perv over his bum, Molly could have found an excuse to hang about down in the square, could maybe of read all the names on the memorial or something, slowly, and then he'd have had a chance to get away. And she could have taken her time getting up the bastarding hill. Now all she could hope was that if Frannie did get her way and manage to pull him, they wouldn't be at it all night in the little room next to hers.

"What's the matter?" He was smirking more than smiling "Oh I see … I suppose we ought to be grateful you're not wearing your stilettos"

Molly couldn't remember when she'd last hated someone as much as she hated him right at that moment, well apart from the last time she'd seen him. Frannie, disloyal cow that she was, was falling about laughing that stupid tinkling laugh that was all about trying to impress him. Molly couldn't think why anyone would bother when he was such an arsehole, although right at that moment she thought they probably deserved one another.

"Oh I'm sorry, if I'd only known … that's a real shame … cos if I 'ad I'd of made sure I had them with me …" She wouldn't have, she didn't even own a pair "Gotta say, not sure they'd fit you, you know, your feet are a lot bigger 'n mine, still, they prob'bly do them in bigger sizes"

"What?" His forehead had this deep furrowed frown between his eyes as Molly smirked, suddenly enjoying herself.

"Sorry … thought I 'eard you asking about me stilettos? Thought you might want to have a lend of them"

"It was a joke …"

"Was it? Oh, well, that's alright then, innit?"

Molly rolled her eyes, and tried not to keep on smirking as she saw a faint hint of red appear on his cheekbones, she actually wanted to cheer and clap her hands like a sea lion and stick her tongue out now he was the one feeling uncomfortable. It was easy to ignore Frannie's loud huff, laughing at his unfunny jokes might be the way to get in his boxers, Molly neither knew nor cared, but nothing was going to make her feel like she had to join in and laugh as well, was it?

"So …" It was obvious Frannie had decided to try and change the subject "That's Molly, well, you know that, and I'm Francesca, but you can call me Frannie, everyone does … so …what do they call you then?"

"Boss usually"

He snorted a little laugh and looked down at Frannie as they started to walk side by side and she gave another one of her stupid laughs and then put her hand on his arm as Molly rolled her eyes and dropped back even further, she'd already opted to walk a good couple of yards behind them.

"It's Charles …"

"Charles?" She mimicked his tone, giggling to herself as she thought it, although she thought she'd been thinking it, not saying it out loud until he stopped and looked at her over his shoulder with another frown between his eyes.

"What's so fucking hilarious about Charles?"

"Nothin' … I wasn't laughing" She was "It was just I thought you was called Rupert"

"What?"

"It was a joke …"

-OG-

-OG-