Tabula Rasa

by damoisella

Fate can defy everything, including the passing of time. They’re older and wiser, but as one thing leads onto another, how many of life’s changes will it take for them to get another chance?

Disclaimer: I take no responsibility towards anything that happens in this story. If a character gets hurt, not my fault! g I suppose their owners (in the form of Southern Star and Channel Seven) should be taking good care of them...

Author's Notes: It's been absolutely ages since I posted a fic, and I apologise sincerely! A little thing called 'life' got in the way, and also a lack of inspiration due to my being rather irritated at the whole Susie/Jonesy thing of late.

Anyway, I began this one way back in April (found it on my hard drive recently, having forgotten about it completely), so you have to pretend that everything after Alex and Susie didn't happen. Also, I've skipped forwards in time – quite a bit, actually. And a word of warning: it's a bit on the long side.

'Tabula Rasa': (Latin) translated to 'blank slate'; an opportunity to start over without prejudice.

Summary: Fate can defy everything, including the passing of time. They're older and wiser, but as one thing leads onto another, how many of life's changes will it take for them to get another chance?

---

Tabula Rasa

Loud footsteps thumped down the corridor towards the hallway's connecting door. The floorboards squealed under the pressure; they would have to be fixed soon.

"Sarge, we couldn't find him," one of the young probationary constables chirped as the two entered.

"His car wasn't there, either," the other put in helpfully.

The sergeant clicked his tongue impatiently. "Do you know if he has another vehicle?"

The two officers exchanged an unknowing glance. "Er, no."

"I suggest you find out," he replied. His voice dropped lower. "I'd start with the computer. The one over in the corner."

The constables rolled their eyes as their sergeant took a jibe at them. They knew he was only teasing.

Evan Jones watched them obediently scuttle off to look up their suspect on the database. He smiled from the inside. Despite it being several months now, it still took him a moment to work out that when the younger officers called out 'Sarge', they were talking to him. He remembered when it seemed that he would be tied to the desk with plain dark blue shoulder pads for the rest of his career. His superiors had little faith in him, as did his father, and consequently he had little hope of ever climbing very far up the ladder. Ironic, people used to remark, that the son of the Police Commander couldn't grate higher than a mere Constable. Even his little brother had outdone him.

But despite all that, it didn't bother Evan. Sure, he'd had his days when he wanted to throw it all in, but he knew that one day, he would exceed everyone's expectations. And he had.

"Sarge?" A tentative voice piped up from somewhere behind him, disrupting his thoughts.

Evan turned. "Yes, Constable?"

"Johnson doesn't have any other vehicles under his name," the probationary answered.

"Then you'd better interview the family and workmates to find out when they last saw him," Evan replied simply.

"Thanks, Sarge," came the grateful answer, and left.

His mind drifted back to when he too had been a constable. It didn't seem so long ago, yet it also felt like a different lifetime. He had changed so much. The days of being 'Constable Cowboy' were now only faint memories. Memories he'd rather put away than indulge in, but they were still important to him.

By taking a year off from the force and driving around Australia, he realised there was more to life than the job. He knew only too well how suddenly life could reach an end, and he was determined to fulfil his to a greater extent. Living it a bit rough from Rockhampton to Broome to Albany and back along the Bight caused him to lose his sporadic attitude and become less selfish. And it changed his whole outlook on the job when he got back.

After nearly nine years of town-hopping from Mansfield, down to Traralgon, up to Castlemaine and everywhere in between, he found himself in Seymour. A sergeant, and in charge of three probationary constables just out of the academy. They were a handful, but an eager bunch. With a bit of discipline and a lot of intensive training, he knew they'd shape up to be good coppers. He had faith in them, because he knew that's what they needed.

Meanwhile, this report, he thought as his mind went back on track. It was time consuming, and his attention was restless. If there was one thing that hadn't changed, was his ability to despise paperwork. He knew there was a downside to the sergeant job.

"Jones," his superior called from the depths of his office.

Evan stood and wandered towards it, closing the door behind him. "Yeah?"

His superior was no longer fazed by his 'young-at-heart' attitude. He knew the man was a good officer and that they needed him around.

"I got this faxed through today," the inspector said, holding a piece of paper in his hand. "The Central Regional Department want a representative from each station at a three-day conference in Melbourne in two weeks."

"A conference regarding what?" Evan's eyes were sceptical; he never did like these department set-ups.

"It says here it is about leadership and career positions, but it's hosted by the Feds so it'll probably be a recruiting advertisement for them," he replied dryly. "Although there is mention of guests from the FBI."

"Tossers from the FBI? The Feds? That's meant to tempt me to go?" Evan asked disbelievingly.

His inspector sighed. "I understand your reluctance, but if you don't attend, I'm going to have to send Senior Constable O'Connor instead."

Evan groaned. He was checkmated, and they both knew it. "Fine, I'll go," he replied grudgingly.

"Thank you, Sergeant." His boss scribbled something down on a notepad satisfactorily. "Details will be on your desk by the end of the day," he added, then signalled for his sergeant to leave.

---

Evan arrived home that evening to several coffee mugs, used plates, and scattered takeaway boxes around the television. He moaned at the sight, and proceeded to clear things up somewhat. When his small kitchen and living room seemed presentable, he collapsed on his couch and looked up at the mantle on the opposite wall. A few photos stood, their edges overlapping each other as they jostled to be in front, making his arrangement half-shambolic.

One was of when he was twelve, decked out in his soccer uniform. His father had given the picture to him when he had been made a sergeant. He didn't know why he liked it, but he found it oddly fascinating. How his life had grown from those childhood experiences that seemed centuries ago. His crooked front teeth had gone, but he still saw himself in the image.

Another was of the gathering they'd had to celebrate Reg Jones' retirement from the police force. They'd had to almost force the commander to hand the papers in. Despite his father's initial reluctance to call it a day, Evan knew Reg was enjoying the time to do what he wanted, rather than arriving at work at early hours and not leaving until late. No one should have to put up with that for years on end. Despite Evan's seemingly frequent moving about, the two managed to stay in touch remarkably well. There were times that Evan wanted to strangle the man for being so domineering, but knew that he was the only family he had left.

The last was of the Imperial, the Mount Thomas pub run by Chris Riley. She was a gem, Evan remembered affectionately. On his way out of the country town permanently, he'd spontaneously pulled over in front of the building and taken a photo of it. The place held so many memories; it had been his home for years. He had been sorry to leave it. He hadn't heard anything regarding Mount Thomas for a long time, and wondered what had changed. After leaving, he occasionally kept in contact with Alex to hear what was happening, but after a while, he found that it didn't really matter any longer. The world had moved on, and so had he. It didn't bother him too much. He had met many other wonderful people in the other towns where he had been stationed, but once again, did not make a huge effort to keep in contact. He never saw the point.

There used to be a couple more photos up there, but he had hastily taken them down. After marrying a local Traralgon girl, Natasha, and dragging her around Victoria before she finally up and left him, he preferred to let some memories fade. They hadn't divorced on bad terms – just disappointing ones. She wasn't willing to live the life he led, and he expected too much from her. When she had left, he privately thought it was probably for the best. He'd always had a tendency to fall for women who were just out of his reach. He hoped she was okay; last he'd heard, she'd gone back to Traralgon to be with her family.

He got up and rummaged around in his fridge, finding some leftover chicken curry from the night before last. While waiting for it to warm up, he switched the television on until he found a footy replay. The Saints were beating Geelong, and he smirked. Served the Cats right.

It just seemed like another night, he thought to himself as the hours drifted on.

---

Twelve days later, Evan found himself in front of his hotel in the heart of Melbourne. He hadn't been to the city for two years; not since his divorce from Natasha. And still, it was evident on his face that he was not too happy to be there. With a deep, yielding sigh, and wondering what the hell he was doing, he marched up to the front desk.

"Name?" the receptionist inquired shortly, guessing he was one of the other hundred or so police officers milling about the place. Mind, he was better-looking than most of them, but he was still a cop.

"Evan Jones," he replied, his left hand beginning to grow numb from his bag handle digging into his palm.

"Room 216," she answered, handing him a key. "Just get you to sign there..."

He obliged, and looked at her expectantly for further information.

"Your booking has continental breakfast included," she continued, reading off the computer screen, "Breakfast is served until ten o'clock." Not that they'd be around at that time of morning, she was tempted to add, but resisted. "Checkout time is also ten o'clock. Swimming pool is on the basement level two, and you must have your room key to have access. All information is in the book in your room."

"Right, thanks," Evan nodded, striding over to the elevator.

He let himself into his room and took a quick shower, before checking his watch. Just under two hours until the conference began – plenty of time to walk around the city.

He wandered down the streets, having a fair idea where he was, but also relishing the fact he didn't have a map and could easily get lost. He'd always loved the city's atmosphere; it was such a contrast to what he was used to. A place where you knew no one's name, and you could have a sense of anonymity.

Feeling like some coffee – he'd only had one this morning before he left Seymour – he wondered if his favourite old café was still around. It had been a good few years, but it always reminded him from when he was younger. He may as well see if it's still there, he thought, knowing he had nothing to lose.

He began to head off down Collins Street, taking a shortcut through an alleyway, a spark of spontaneity burning within him. There was something mysterious about these back streets; how they were so empty and plain compared to the main city streets that were abuzz with activity.

There was a dark shadow on the ground, near the opening to another busy road. Evan frowned as he approached, then quickly realised it was a young man lying there. He felt for a pulse, and finding a weak one. The syringe lying nearby spoke volumes. He whipped out his mobile. "Yeah, I need an ambulance," he said loudly when the call was answered, "Behind Collins Street, an OD."

He shoved his phone deep into the back pocket of his jeans, as footsteps became audible from the top of the lane.

"Do you need any help?" came a female voice from behind him. "An OD?"

"Yeah, but an ambulance is on its way," Evan replied, standing up and turning around to face the stranger. His jaw dropped open, stunning him silent for a second. "Suse?" he asked, astonished, as though he could be mistaken.

Susie Raynor had only worked it out a second before him, to whom exactly she was speaking to. It had given her that second more, for which she was grateful, to compose herself. "Jonesy... it's been a while," she said, as coolly as she could manage.

"What -?" he began, then shook his head. Questions could be saved for later.

"I heard you make the call just then," she offered as way of explanation. "The ambulance should be here any minute, they're pretty used to this sort of thing."

"Right," he nodded, still somewhat shocked.

"Let's get him on his side," she suggested, firmly pushing away any distracting thoughts that could be addressed later on. He obligingly helped her roll the man on his side, so as not to constrict his airways.

"Nice way to see ya again," he muttered as he straightened.

A minute later, they could hear the sirens approaching. The ambulance screeched up, two paramedics jumping out. "OD?" one of them questioned.

"Yeah, just found him here," Susie replied. "Got a pulse, but it's weak."

"Good job," the other officer praised. "You must be cops."

Both Susie and Evan looked surprised.

"You can always tell," the paramedic grinned, before helping his partner load the victim onto a stretcher. "Thanks."

The ambulance roared away as quickly as it had arrived, leaving the alley strangely silent and still.

"So, what brings you here?" Susie finally asked, dusting her hands off on her jeans and looking at him expectantly. Her blonde hair was let out and brushing her shoulders, but she hadn't changed that much from when he had last seen her, all those years ago.

"I was on my way for a coffee, actually," he replied, determined not to openly look at her too carefully.

She smiled. He hadn't changed all that much, either. Had it really been that long? "Interesting, so am I," she said lightly. "I didn't know you were in Melbourne these days."

"Me?" He understood what she thought. "No, I'm only here for some conference. I'm based in Seymour now."

"Seymour," she mused thoughtfully. "Now there's a place I haven't been to since I was a kid. Do you mean this police conference with the Feds?"

He cracked a grin. "Don't tell me you're here for that too?"

"Yeah," she grinned back, then furrowed her brow in curiosity. "Though last time I checked, it was mainly for sergeants."

His expression changed to mock hurt. "You're not the only one to get promotions, you know," he said defensively.

"Congratulations," she said instead. "How long?"

"A year – what about you?"

She hesitated, not wanting to give him an answer. "Three this September," she finally answered, but thankfully he only smiled.

"Well, congratulations right back."

She shrugged. "Where were you heading for coffee?"

"Do you know the place that used to be on the corner, opposite the station?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's one of my favourites," Susie replied. "I'll shout you, for old time's sake."

They began walking up back to the busy roads. Evan was tempted to pinch himself. He had expected to run into a few old acquaintances while at this conference, but most probably in the hotel and not out in the back alley behind Collins. And certainly not someone like Susie. His mind rewound and he realised that, although he didn't really feel it, his life had changed considerably. He wondered if hers had as well.

A year after getting their Senior Constable promotions, Susie had been offered a job in Bendigo as a peer support officer. Being rather ambitious, she hadn't turned it down, and had quickly left the town of Mount Thomas. Alex had been surprisingly nonchalant about it, but Evan knew their relationship hadn't worked out. Nevertheless, Susie and the Leading Senior Constable had remained friends.

As for himself, Evan thought, nothing had come out of it. The year after their simultaneous two-stripe promotions had been a year of tension that they both acknowledged, but failed to do anything about. He had wanted it to be how they were the year before that, but didn't know how to get back there. Susie had continued to hover just out of arm's reach, and he had wondered if she was aware of it. After a few months of her not being around anymore after departing for Bendigo, he put in his long service leave application and went on from there. He hadn't been back to Mount Thomas since.

"So what are you doing now?" he asked as they waited for the pedestrian crossing to turn green.

"I'm just a sergeant out at Broadmeadows," she replied simply. "I've been there for about a year now. I used to be at Eltham. What about you? How long have you been in Seymour?"

He smiled wryly. "I think there's a lot that we have to catch up on," he said instead.

"Yeah, 'course," she agreed. "But you're okay?" He looked much the same, she thought, but then looks could be deceiving. He was probably married now – who knows, he could even have a kid or two. Eight or nine years didn't seem like much, but when she looked at it, a lot could have happened.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he smiled. "Are you?"

"Yeah," she nodded as they walked into the café.

Once seated by the front window with a latte and long black – it seemed not all had changed – Evan decided that he really did want to know what Susie had been up to.

"Well, after doing the peer support thing for a while, I came to Melbourne and did a detective training course," she replied, somewhat sheepishly. "I don't know why. I just thought it would be fascinating."

Evan was surprised. She'd become a detective? Not that it was bad – it was fantastic. But all the same, it was surprising.

She noticed his raised eyebrows. "No," she put in reassuringly, "I decided not to become a D. I just did the course to open my eyes a bit, y'know? I didn't think that's what I wanted to do."

"You'd make a great detective, Suse," he said seriously.

Susie shrugged. "All in good time. Then I went for my third stripe, and got into St Kilda, but I found it too busy. I like smaller stations," she confessed. "So I went to Eltham, and then to Broadmeadows, where I am now. That's my life story," she laughed. "How about you?"

Where to start, Evan thought wryly. "I went on long service leave for a year and went around Australia, then went town-hopping," he said with a laugh. "Didn't stay anywhere too long. I ended up in Seymour," he shrugged. "Looking after the rookies."

"How long did you stay in Mount Thomas after I had left?"

"Not long, only a few months," he replied, looking at her. "I couldn't." The words slipped out without him meaning to say them. He instantly wanted to take them back. He hadn't seen her in years – he had absolutely no right to make an admission like that! It was their chance to wipe the slate clean.

Fortunately, Susie noticed his immediate regret and chose not to dwell on it. They could deal with it later – they always had. Some habits were hard to break.

"How about away from the office?" she inquired tactfully. "If you don't mind me asking."

He shook his head, relieved she was overlooking his blunder. "I was married for almost three years," he said, not really wanting to go on.

"Was?" She couldn't help being curious.

"Divorced two years ago."

"Oh." She looked down at her coffee, wondering what to say. "Sorry."

"Nah, it's fine," he dismissed. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

She gave an accepting sort of smile. "Nothing like what you've done," she replied. "Just a few guys, nothing to speak of." Nothing you'd want to hear, she wanted to add. But it was true. She'd had a few relationships, some more serious than others, but she hadn't ever felt that she'd wanted to commit as long as she wanted to. She was aware of the biological clock ticking, but was strangely unconcerned. She had enough nieces and nephews to keep her occupied!

But Jonesy, married – it was hard to comprehend. When they worked together it seemed as though he was the guy least likely to ever commit. She wondered what the reason for divorce was, but then remembered it was none of her business. She hoped it hadn't hurt him too much, she'd seen what marriage collapses could do to people. Absently stirring her drink, she murmured, "It's been a long time."

"Yeah, it has," he agreed as he drained his coffee.

Before they knew it, they had only half an hour until the conference began. "Damn," Evan muttered, dreading it more by the minute and hating his inspector for making him go.

"Looks like I'm not the only one unwilling," she remarked amusedly.

"Tell me about it. Why would the Feds want to talk to us?"

He had a point. The Federal Police rarely crossed the line between themselves and the State Police, and when they did, it was usually when they wanted something. They were disliked by the State powers, and they themselves frowned down on the others as though they were inferior.

Susie shrugged; it wasn't their question to be asking. "I don't know," she said honestly. "But regardless, it's none of our business to know. I think we'd just be better getting there on time."

"Good point," he agreed, as they left the café and remerged on the buzzing city streets.

---

"...which is to be considered carefully when operating between Federal and State powers," the presenter's voice continued in a rather bleak monotone. It took most of Evan's willpower not to yawn quite as openly as he felt like doing. "Are there any questions so far?"

"Yeah – when can we get out of here?" Evan muttered in a voice so low that Susie, who was seated next to him, hardly heard it herself. The comment was so typically him that she couldn't help but smile. She quickly swallowed the laugh that was rising in her throat. This was not a good time.

"...would you please make welcome, officers Mitchell and Adams from the FBI."

"Not really, but it doesn't look like we have any choice," he muttered again, causing Susie to stare intently at the opposite wall, fighting to keep her smile not overly wide. Finally under control, she shot her old colleague a glare. Evan merely shrugged slightly, a familiar twinkle in his eye.

An hour later, the group of officers were allowed to leave for the day.

"Oh, thank God that's over," Susie sighed as soon as they were outside, obviously relieved. "You idiot, though," she added, "You nearly made some of my internal organs burst with contained laughter."

"A job well done," he replied wryly. "Sorry."

"Some things never change," she said severely, checking her watch. "Bugger, no wonder I'm hungry."

"Well, show me one of the little known secret Melbourne restaurants that I don't know about," Evan said simply, although he couldn't completely conceal his wicked smile.

It was funny, Susie thought to herself. He wasn't assuming she wanted to go home for the night, or that she had other plans. Instead, came a dinner invitation that was probably the simplest one she had received in a very long time. And the strange thing was that she didn't mind in the slightest.

"In the mood for Italian?" she suggested lightly. "Because I know this great little place two blocks from here..."

---

"So I hear you were seeing some redhead senior connie over in Castlemaine," Susie said shrewdly as she swirled the red wine around in her glass.

Evan almost dropped his fork. "What?"

"Well? Is it true?"

"We went to dinner. Once."

"Once?"

"Once. Who told you that?"

"You know old Phillsy from Regional CID? I bumped into him this afternoon. His eyesight isn't fading with age, that's for sure."

"Damn," Evan muttered, caught out.

"So what happened? Not your type?"

"It might have to do with the fact that she was just trying to get her ex jealous," he confessed tightly.

"Geez, Jonesy, it looks as though your standards have slipped," Susie teased, knowing that it was grating on his nerves. She had forgotten how much fun it was to rile him up. He seemed to have learned to control it better, however, and didn't seem to retort with a fiery comeback that she had come to expect.

"So, have you heard from any of the old gang?" he asked instead, changing the subject before they stepped too dangerously.

Susie pursed her lips together thoughtfully. "Not really. Last I heard, Tom settled into retirement and Mark took the top job. I think Kelly's still there, not sure about Amy. You spoken to Alex?"

Evan gave a short laugh. "Before he came to Mount Thomas, we had hardly spoken for a decade. Not much has changed." He hesitated before biting the bullet. "Have you spoken to him?"

She looked at him warily, but she could tell he was only curiously asking. "Only for the first few months after I left. It just sort of stopped after a while."

"Right," he nodded. "I did hear that Amy got a top job in Sydney, though," he added, remembering.

"Oh," Susie looked both impressed and surprised. "Well, good on her. She deserves it."

"Yeah," he agreed. He glanced at their empty plates and raised an eyebrow. "Shall we?"

"Sure," she nodded, and she noticed that he didn't hesitate to pay the bill. It made her smile, although she was quick to hide it.

Once outside in the now-chilly air, they fell into step as they headed in direction of the hotel. Susie seemed to have no problem with this, and so Evan didn't dare question it. Just be grateful, he reminded himself.

It was interesting to just simply observe the city night life. It was so different to Seymour. Not that he disliked Seymour, he quickly added, but it was just that. Different. What was that saying? Change is like a holiday. Perhaps it was true.

He was thankful for not needing to talk, as they walked along the pavement, dodging night crowds. Sometimes words ruined the best things.

Meanwhile Susie, who was more than used to the atmosphere, merely enjoyed having someone to walk next to. She wasn't as fascinated at the surrounds as her old colleague, but still liked observing. It was a terrible habit that she couldn't seem to shake – not helped by the fact that when she was on duty, it was part of her job. She remembered wryly how she would sit on the beach as a child and just people-watch for hours. It occurred to her that a lot had happened since those innocent days.

"Starts at nine tomorrow, doesn't it?" she murmured as they crossed the street opposite the hotel.

"You bet, so don't be late," he warned teasingly.

"That's easy for you to say – you don't even have to leave the building! I'm the one who has to cross town."

"Surely it doesn't take that long?"

She rolled her eyes. "Obviously, it's been too long since you last came to the big smoke."

"Hey," Evan protested as they slowed to a stop outside the front entrance. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Mmm-hmm. Thanks for dinner, and -" she ducked her head slightly, "you know, it was good seeing you again."

He smiled. "Yeah, it was."

They both nodded, wondering what to say next. An indeterminable time passed, and Evan obscurely realised that, in all honesty, she was still just as attractive as she always had been. Christ, he shouldn't be thinking thoughts like that – in eight years, she could be an entirely different person. But she wasn't; she was the same Susie Raynor he had always known... and, dare he say it, the same woman he had loved those years ago.

He still had those engaging eyes, Susie thought as she noticed him looking at her – those eyes she had always been a sucker for. She could easily drown in them; he could easily capture her soul. The thought that she could still be so vulnerable around him made her inhale sharply.

"Jonesy, I -" she began, then faltered by her own accord. What could she possibly say? What did she want to say?

Evan didn't seem to think words could justify it. He suddenly realised that anything more, even after so long, couldn't be ridiculous, and found himself leaning towards her.

She turned her head slightly and held up a hand to block him, causing him to freeze, confused. He straightened, looking slightly wounded when she smiled.

"I was thinking I don't really want to drive across town tomorrow morning," she whispered with a glint in her eye. "Maybe I should just stay here instead?"

Evan didn't need to say anything for her to know his answer.

---

He found himself alone in his room when he woke up the next morning. Wonderingly, he sat up, looking to see if he hadn't just dreamt it all. Yet a quick glance at the bedside table told him that, indeed, she had been here.

He picked up the earrings and slipped them carefully into his jacket pocket, before sighing as he glanced at his bed. The bed sheets were knotted and bundled, but probably innocent to the unsuspecting eye. Only the walls knew, it seemed.

Evan checked his watch and promptly got changed into his uniform, before heading downstairs to grab something to eat before the conference began.

Waiting for the lift to arrive, he dug his hands into his pockets and heaved his shoulders into a sigh. Up until now he had refused to think of why she wasn't there, but it seemed inevitable. So she had thought it was a mistake – the thought hurt, but he could burn it much more easily than all those years ago. He understood if she thought that digging back into the past was wrong – he didn't like it, but he could accept it. And he supposed that was better than nothing.

The lift came, and he stepped inside, pressing the button for the ground level.

Hell, he probably wouldn't see her again... outside of work, anyway. Did that really matter? No... Yes. He did want to see her again. Those years they had worked together, been friends – they had counted for something, surely?

Evan headed for the front entrance, planning on catching a bite at a small café he'd spotted the day before. Probably outrageously expensive, he thought wryly, but he was sure the coffee would be decent.

A figure met him on the other side of the glass automatic doors. As they slid sideways, exposing him to the morning chill, Susie gave a small smile as she clutched a polystyrene cup. "Hey."

"Hey," he replied. Suddenly remembering, he dug his hand into his jacket pocket and revealed her forgotten earrings. "Er, thought you might like these."

"Oh, thanks," she said, slightly surprised, but accepting them with her free hand. She racked her brains for something else to say. Something sarcastic, something casual, or worse, actually acknowledging that she had left?

She had woken up, the sight of him sleeping next to her warming her heart. But she knew she couldn't stay – it was too complicated. Now why hadn't she thought of that last night?

She didn't regret it, per se – it was just hard to deal with. She hadn't seen him for eight, nearly nine, years. She didn't know his life. She didn't really know him, anymore. Yet she still knew him better than anyone – was she always such a contradiction? But she couldn't go back to what they were all that time ago... she couldn't.

So, despite her heart and gut yelling at her to stay, she had quickly gotten changed and quietly left the hotel room. She'd glanced back once more – he was still asleep. He'd be shocked, even hurt, when he'd find that she'd gone – but she didn't see that she had a choice. It would probably be for the best.

Now she was facing him once more, a lot sooner than she had anticipated. And his gesture of giving back her earrings had quickly acknowledged the fact that last night really had happened – they couldn't tiptoe around it like she was hoping.

Still, she could try, she thought faintly.

"I'm just going out for some brekkie," he said casually. "Wanna join me?"

She shrugged in reply, and turned to go back out onto the street once more.

"So, er – do you know what's happening today?" she asked, sensing that he was about to mention the night before.

He knew she didn't want to talk about it, and took her lead – for now. "I think it's some presentation by the FBI today."

Susie groaned. "Hopefully not too boring."

"Knowing them, it probably will be." Evan shook his head. "And I thought I came down here for the holiday."

"No rest for the wicked," she countered.

"Doesn't look like it, no."

They stopped outside the café. "Have you eaten yet?"

"No, just grabbed this coffee before," Susie answered. "Now that you mention it, I'm starving."

"Eggs Benedict still your choice?"

Susie smiled despite herself, amazed. "I can't believe you remember that!"

"I'm more than just a pretty face, y'know."

She chose not to comment. He sighed inwardly.

---

"Mmm, 'ash wah goo," Evan mumbled, struggling to talk and swallow the remainder of his breakfast at the same time.

"Yeah, I liked it too," Susie replied sardonically, somehow having understood what he was attempting to say. They stood and proceeded to the counter to pay for their food.

"We're splitting," she warned him, knowing he would try to pay for both of their meals.

"Nah, forget about it," he waved her off.

"No, I won't," Susie threw back firmly. "Take it," she instructed to the bemused waiter, holding out some notes.

"Sorry for only being nice," Evan muttered indignantly, handing over his own money and not looking at her.

"Oh come on, get over it," Susie said, half-exasperatingly, half-jokingly. She hadn't meant to be sharp, but she had to draw the line somewhere. She still felt slightly awkward over the previous night, and didn't want to push it. "Come on, we'll be late otherwise."

"So what time is this meant to finish?" Evan asked as they hiked back towards the hotel.

"God only knows – I think they said six, but knowing them, they'll go over by at least an hour," Susie said with a roll of her eyes.

"Well, at least it's less time to be stuck in my room watching cable," Evan remarked shrewdly, not daring to look at her as he said it. It had slipped out without him having time to stop it, but he didn't completely regret saying it, either.

Susie decided to ignore his words entirely. He was never good at being subtle, she thought to herself. She wasn't going to take the bait, she was bigger than that.

Plus, he could not expect her to drop everything, just because he was around again. Even despite the night before. It had meant nothing, she told herself. It was today that would define everything: whether she would let him back in again, or if they'd part once more.

The rest of the walk back was silent, and she preferred it that way.

---

It turned out Susie needed not to be concerned about talking to Evan; all the police officers at the conference had been split up into two groups, and they had been separated. To be honest, it didn't bother her in the slightest. She still didn't know how she was feeling, or what she wanted. Avoidance of these kind of thoughts was always the best game to play with one's self. And perhaps fate would decide what would happen.

The day passed quickly, and Susie escaped from the hotel before Evan had a chance to catch up with her. It was occurring to her that the lengths she was going to to avoid him were getting increasingly feeble, but she still didn't know what the hell she could say to him without being clichéd, or worse, completely fake.

Yet it didn't stop her from feeling guilty. Technically, he hadn't done anything wrong. The not-so-subtle query as to whether she had plans for tonight was something so typical of him that she couldn't possibly feel annoyed at it. She just didn't feel like facing him, and potentially confronting her own thoughts.

Upon arriving home, many traffic-congested intersections later, she noticed the blinking light of her answering machine greeting her as she stepped in the door.

She pressed the button, at the same time tossing her keys on the table and switching on the light.

"Hi Suse, it's me, Phil. I tried to call you last night but you didn't answer. Look, I just wanted to see how you were, and how that conference is going. I can come around with some food tonight if you want – call me."

Susie sighed and ran her fingers through her blonde locks, whilst stalking into the kitchen and reaching for the half-finished bottle of wine from a few nights before. She poured some into a glass, swirling it around for a moment before draining almost half of it in one mouthful. It was signalling to be a bad night.

She had almost forgotten about Phil, and a feeling of guilt punched her in the stomach. They had agreed to take a break and stop seeing each other for a while, just while she did this conference and he was busy at work. Another sergeant over at the nearby Belgrave, they'd met during group training roughly five months ago. He had asked her to dinner a week later, and they hadn't looked back since. That is, until week ago, when he began his negotiation training course and she prepared for this conference. She suggested that they keep to themselves for a while, and concentrate on what their jobs endorsed.

She had spoken to him the night before the conference began, but the startling thing was that she hadn't given him a fleeting thought since.

Still, she reminded herself that they had decided to focus on their own lives a bit, and that's exactly what she had done. Nothing wrong with that, was there?

The fact that she had spent the previous night in Evan's room without a glimmer of a thought of the other components of her life made her feel more selfish than she had in a long time. Phil was a great guy, she knew that, and what she was doing wasn't fair on him. But he was oblivious, and she planned to keep it that way, or the shit would really hit the fan.

Susie decided against calling him back, not only because she wouldn't know what to say, but she didn't have the energy. Deep and meaningful talks weren't exactly at the top of her current agenda.

Pouring herself more wine, she curled up on the couch with the intention of watching mindless television, but fell asleep before she had the chance.

---

The next morning, Evan stepped out of the hotel elevator and into the conference foyer, his eyes automatically searching. He knew Susie was playing a game of avoidance, but it made him all the more determined to find her. He understood that she didn't want to face him quite yet, but today was his last full day in Melbourne. He'd kick himself if he didn't at least try.

"Phillsy," he called out, seeing the old fella standing by the door.

"Ah, Jonesy." The Regional CID sergeant regarded him with remembering, twinkling eyes. "Been keeping well, I see."

"Just dandy, ta," Evan shrugged. "But look, have you seen Susie Raynor around?"

The old sergeant grinned. "What would you want with little Blondie, eh? In fact, I was just telling her the other day about -"

"- my private life, I know," Evan interrupted dryly, "which, by the way, you better have not been discussing with anyone else around here."

Phillsy chuckled. "No harm done, Jonesy. Raynor? Nah, haven't seen her today, sorry. Why would you want her?"

"Now, why would I be telling you that?" Evan asked rhetorically.

The sergeant rubbed at his chin. "How do you know her, anyway? Last I heard you were up in Seymour."

"Still am, mate," Evan nodded. "We used to work together, about nine years ago now."

"Nine years? Impressive." Phillsy raised his eyebrow. "But can't help you, mate. Listen, did you hear that -"

Knowing how the old guy could go on for hours, once started, Evan decided to take his leave. "Would love to hear it, but not now," he cut in, backing away. "Thanks anyway."

"I'll let her know you were looking for her," Phillsy nodded, giving him a wink. "But not in front of her significant other, eh?"

Evan stopped dead in his footsteps. "What?" He turned back, but the old sergeant had disappeared amongst the throngs of other coppers. Damn.

The words 'significant other' echoed in his head. Why had Susie failed to tell him she was seeing anyone? They had briefly touched on past relationships when they first caught up, but he hadn't asked outright if she was currently single, and she hadn't told him. Idiot, he told himself, for merely assuming. Perhaps time had changed her after all – but on second thoughts, she had never been one to indulge in personal feelings. Even to him.

Still, he couldn't help feel a bit hard done-by. If she had only just told him, then he wouldn't have allowed that night to happen at all. Despite his own character flaws, he was a strong believer in loyalty: it was immoral to be otherwise inclined, according to him.

Then again, he couldn't possibly be blamed for anything, should the issue come along. If he didn't know, how could he have stopped it? But the thought of Susie wearing the rap for this didn't fail to occur to him either, and if he was the cause of bringing that particular load on top of her shoulders, then he would be guilty nonetheless.

And the likelihood of seeing her again just became that much slimmer. For the first time, Evan thought that it might be a decent thing.

---

I'm outta here, Evan thought to himself as the congregation was dismissed for the last time at the end of the day. One final night to crash, and then he'd be gone first thing in the morning. Back to Seymour, back to the relative obscurity of country policing.

"Sergeant Jones," an unfamiliar voice called out from behind him. He turned, impassively curious.

"Yeah?"

"I've been told to give this to you," an attendant told him, holding out a fine silver chain. "It's Sergeant Raynor's – she left it behind after today's training exercise."

"Why are you giving it to me?" Evan asked sharply.

"I – I was only told," the now-flustered attendant said. "Apparently you might see her, at least, more likely than anyone else."

"I highly doubt that," Evan replied, an edge of barely-audible bitterness on his voice.

"Sergeant, I've been ordered -"

"Fine," Evan sighed, taking the neck chain. At least he could put the poor attendant out of her misery. "Thank you."

He slipped it into his pocket and headed upstairs to his room to pack.

---

Susie breathed out with relief as she arrived home. The conference was finally over – it was back to so-called normal duties tomorrow.

She checked her answering machine, but there was nothing – Phil wasn't on her case. That sent her a mixture of messages: she was somewhat grateful for not being heckled, yet dubious as to whether he was beginning to dismiss her for good.

She began to strip off her clothes as she turned on the shower head, waiting for the hot water to come. Automatically, she reached up to the back of her neck, only to feel her bare skin there. Frowning, she glanced in the mirror, and then grimaced. Bloody hell, she'd taken off her chain when they had been required to do night vision target practice during the day – she must have left it behind.

She felt incredibly annoyed with herself as she stepped into the shower, the hot water relaxing her tired muscles, but doing nothing for the new stress on her mind. The only choice she had was to ring the hotel tomorrow and see if they'd found it, otherwise it would remain lost.

Ten minutes later, whilst rubbing her hair dry, she hesitantly looked at the phone, as though daring it to ring. When it didn't, she resigned herself to the fact that if she didn't do something now, then she never would.

His recorded message was the only thing that greeted her. After a slight pause, she answered. "Hey Phil, it's me... sorry for not getting back to you sooner. The conference was great. Er, I'll speak to you soon, okay?" She finished in a rush, and hung up dejectedly.

Indian take-away tonight, she thought grudgingly as she picked up the phone once more.

---

"Sarge, you're back!" a delighted probationary constable's voice chirped as Evan stepped into his station, the day after he'd arrived back in Seymour.

He grinned, it was good to settle back into a routine of normality. "Still keeping at it, Shepard?"

"I am, Sarge," she nodded, before turning back to her work.

"Ah, Jones, welcome back," his superior said heartily. "Enjoyed yourself, I presume?"

Evan shrugged. "It had its moments."

"Couldn't have expected anything more, I suppose," the inspector replied wryly. "I've got O'Connor doing this morning's debrief, but I expect you right back on track, is that clear?"

"Crystal, Boss," Evan answered with a curt nod.

He sank down at his desk, wincing at the stack of files he had to sign. Hmm, maybe normal routine wasn't all that cracked up to be.

---

A week later:

Susie blended in the last bit of her eyeliner, then sat back, satisfied with her appearance. She had put in more effort than usual, but it was worth it. She hadn't spoken to Phil in four days, and when they had agreed to go to dinner, she decided that she'd been neglecting him more than was generally acceptable. She hoped that tonight would smooth things out. And she was grateful to be going out – she needed to take her mind off things, and decent food and good glass of red were the perfect short-term solutions.

Slipping into some heels, she checked her watch. She should be heading over to his place about now – she'd get there a bit early, sure, but she figured he wouldn't mind.

Keys – where were they? Ah, hell, she could never find them when she was in a hurry! Rummaging around her kitchen table, she swore under her breath when the phone began to ring.

"Hello?" she answered roughly, still looking for her keys. She didn't have time to be caught on the phone.

"Susie, hi. It's Mel Pierson here," the vaguely familiar voice spoke. Susie frowned. She'd met Mel a few times – she was one of Phil's colleagues at Belgrave and was a good person.

"Hi, Mel," Susie replied, surprised, as she finally retrieved her keys from underneath the shopping list that had fallen off the refrigerator. "Look, I hate to cut you short, but now really isn't a good time -"

"Susie, it's about Phil," Mel broke in.

It was something about the other woman's wavering voice that made Susie pause. "Phil? What about him?"

"We just got the call," Mel told her, taking a deep breath as though to calm herself. "He went to check out a domestic disturbance with Constable Fredricks... but the intruder had a weapon..."

Susie's heart thumped in her chest, so loud that she was sure Mel could hear it over the phone. "What are you saying, Mel?"

"Phil was shot at close range, Susie," the woman replied, beginning to lose her composure.

"Is he alright?" Susie questioned sharply, although deep down, she knew the answer. Shot at close range...

"He died within minutes," Mel answered in a small voice, trying to refrain herself from sniffing, but to no avail. "Susie, I'm so sorry."

Susie's mind was numb. "But that can't be right," she muttered after a long moment, more to herself than over the phone. "I'm meant to be meeting him in ten minutes, we're going out..."

"Susie, do you want me to come over?"

"No," she replied distantly, her knuckled white from gripping the phone so hard. "No, I'm fine. Thanks for letting me know."

She hung up with shaking hands before Mel had a chance to respond. Her eyes began to sting, but she ignored them. She couldn't cry – if she cried, it would mean that it was true. And she couldn't do that, not just yet.

The keys that were still in her hand dug sharply into her palm, but she barely noticed.

She was at a loss. Whenever someone had died, there'd always been people around her, to tell her what to do next. Now she found herself standing in the middle of her empty house, with choices as to what to do, but she didn't want to do any of them.

And despite her shock, she was strangely calm. There was no point in playing the usual game of denial, she knew, because in the end it achieved nothing. No, better just to face it.

Her mind drifted back to their last conversation, four days ago that now seemed like an eternity. She told him that she was looking forward to seeing him again, that it would be a good end to a long week. She had meant it, and Phil had believed her. To him there was no reason as to why he shouldn't.

Damn her mind games! She hadn't planned to tell him anything about the conference – or any subsequent people she might have met – even if he had asked; but now that he was dead, she wanted to. She didn't want him to die, not knowing. He deserved better.

But maybe it was better that way, another part of her mind told her. He could die a happy man, not an angry one – what he would be if he knew what she had done behind his back. What he didn't know, would now never hurt him, and it pained her and soothed her at the same time.

Without another thought, she climbed into her car and began to drive across town.

---

"Oh-ho, what a goal!" Evan felt a hard thump on his back, almost making him spill his beer.

"Mate, you would've been getting me another," he warned, turning to his friend sitting next to him on the couch.

"Sorry, Jonesy, but I just – kick, you bastard, kick it!"

Evan shook his head and turned back to the television screen, putting his feet back up on the coffee table.

"How many cans have we got left?" he hollered over the roar of four passionate footy fans piled in his living room.

"About six," came the nonchalant reply, all eyes focussed too intently on the game. Evan, too, watched the Eagles kick yet another goal.

"They're kicking their arses!" came a gleeful yell. "Y'know, ever since the Hawks got that new coach, they've been going downhill..."

A sudden vision popped into Evan's mind. Susie would be furious, he thought with a wry grin. She always did take her beloved team's losses rather sorely.

"What's up with you, Jonesy?"

Evan shook himself out of his thoughts. "Nah, nothing, mate."

Everyone was more interested in the game than him, and Evan preferred it that way. He gave a half-hearted attempt to push the thoughts away, but quickly gave up as he took another swig of beer.

---

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry," Elise Raynor smoothed her daughter's hair, still an automatic movement after so many years. She held her head down on her own shoulder, feeling Susie's body shake underneath her touch. It pained her, to see her only daughter go through this once more. Brad had been the hardest – would Susie be able to get through this again?

"I just wish I could've told him everything," Susie said quietly, her throat feeling tight as though it didn't fit her any more.

"We always do, Suse – we always want just that minute longer." Elise understood her daughter's wish, but was oblivious as to what extent of regret Susie was talking about.

"Go to bed, love." Susie's father came into the room, carrying a cup of tea. "Daniel's old bedroom is still the spare room."

Susie nodded, and, taking the tea with her, left the room. She closed the door behind her, and glanced at the bedside mirror. She wiped the tear trails from her cheeks, faintly stained black from the makeup she had so meticulously applied only hours before.

She should call Mel back, it occurred to her as she curled up under the covers of her younger brother's old bed. The thought of talking to Phil's colleagues was exhausting, and she drifted off into a restless sleep.

---

"You can't be serious," Evan proclaimed disbelievingly.

"Would I be joking, Sergeant?" his superior said, arms crossed.

"What if I refuse?"

"Then you wouldn't have fulfilled the criteria making you eligible for having taken part. All of it would have been for nothing."

"But why Melbourne?"

"You really think we would have those sorts of office resources and personnel up here?"

Evan heaved a deep sigh, clearly unhappy with the situation. It was ridiculous, having to haul himself back down to Melbourne, only to sign some stupid pieces of paper. All to say that he had claimed to take part in the conference. Sure, it was a worthy boost to his qualifications, but really...

"I'm glad you've seen the reason," his boss said sardonically, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. Jones would come around, the inspector knew. He always did.

---

Two days later, on a perfectly good Saturday morning, Evan found himself reluctantly leaving Seymour, heading back to the big smoke. Typical, he had to go on his day off of all times. If the attendants had told him to sign the papers before he left last time, it wouldn't be an issue. And he'd still be in bed, if he had it his way.

Flicking the radio on as he entered the freeway, he didn't care what he listened to, as long as it wasn't ads. Hmph, country music – he'd never been a fan, but it was better than nothing. His years of town-hopping had made him immune to the genre.

"Bloody idiot," he muttered to a treacherous car that was dodging in and out of lanes from somewhere behind him. No one had the time to be following a slow car, but it didn't mean they had to put others at risk too.

"Jesus," he exclaimed, his eyes watching the weaving car through the rear view mirror. It pulled up to his level in the lane alongside him, and Evan watched it warily out of the corner of his eye. The driver was young, obviously not caring about what was around him. You had to question driving examiners sometimes, and wonder how some hoons managed to get their licences.

The car in front of young driver was obviously going too slow for his standards, despite travelling at the same speed as everyone else. Don't do it, Evan told the driver inwardly, just keep the speed...

"Shit!"

The driver had swung out of his own lane and in front of Evan's without so much as an indication.

Evan swerved into the lane on the other side of him in order to miss the oncoming collision. It was a good move, at the right second, if only another vehicle hadn't been approaching on the other side.

A flash of panic rose within him, before he heard the inevitable crash. His head jolted sideways, slamming on the car doorframe.

Evan felt no more. His world turned to black.

---

"Raynor, what the hell are you doing back here?" Her superior's voice barked sharply as soon as Susie stepped inside the office.

"I work here, don't I?" she replied tonelessly as she sat at her desk, dumping her bag down. She was aware of the worried stares that were being sent her way, but easily ignored them.

"You're not rostered on," came the unrelenting reply.

"Technically, I can change the rosters, and so I'm changing it now," she said flatly.

"You're meant to be on leave."

"I don't want to be."

The senior sergeant sighed deeply. It was like dealing with a teenager, sometimes. "Have you talked to someone?"

Susie didn't take the bait. "There's nothing I want to say."

"Sergeant, you're making it extremely difficult to care." The voice was razor-sharp, an edge as though her boss had just eaten a whole lemon.

Susie pressed her lips together. "Sorry. But I'm fine." She shoved the edges of a pile of papers into a straight line against the surface of her desk. "So, what are we up to in the debrief?"

"Reported burg at the video shop," a senior constable began, when another member interrupted, hanging up the phone.

"Sarge, there's been a traffic accident on the freeway," they said, reading off a scrap of paper. "Requested backup of two personnel."

"You and McMarshall, then," Susie instructed, and the members scuttled off. "Keep us informed."

"Yes, Sarge," came the usual reply, before the door slammed shut.

Susie gave a small sigh and rubbed at her temples. It had only been a few days since Phil's passing, but she was determined to be back at work as soon as possible. Moping about at home, alone, was going to achieve nothing, regardless of what her boss said.

"Raynor," the authoritive voice drifted out to the muster room. Speak of the devil, Susie thought as she stood and headed for her superior's office.

"Yeah?" She leant on the doorframe, looking unconcerned.

"Why are you in such a hurry to come back to work so soon?" The senior sergeant was regarding her with calculating eyes, as though a flash of weakness would be an excuse to send her back home.

"Daytime TV doesn't do it for me," Susie replied dryly, not stopping to think of a proper answer. Her boss hid a small smile.

"Then I expect you to be on the job, one hundred percent or not at all. Is that understood?"

"Thank you, Boss," she muttered, excusing herself. Seizing the radio, she said, "VKC to portable 200 – McMarshall, how is it out there?"

"Portable 200 to VKC. Not good, Sarge," the reply came, "it's not a pretty sight. We've got two vehicles collided, although the vehicle responsible seems to have driven off, unharmed."

Bloody P-platers, Susie thought to herself. "Regos on the damaged?"

"Black Toyota Echo, Bravo Tango Foxtrot 392; and the other's a green Corolla, Charlie November Alpha 744. Both drivers were the only passengers in the cars, and both are injured and are being taken to hospital."

"Copy that," Susie nodded, scribbling it all down. "Keep me informed of any new developments. VKC clear."

She sat down at her desk and typed in the first registration, printing the information off. A woman, early thirties, no past convictions. Wrong place, wrong time, Susie mused whilst she typed the second car in.

She stared at the name that appeared, positive that her eyes were mistaken. Blinking furiously, she read it again. There was no mistaking it: it had Evan Jones down as the second car owner.

There would be hundreds of Evan Jones', she reasoned as she scrolled down the page. But it fit; he had the same birthday as she remembered, and – oh, there it was, his title of Sergeant. There wasn't any other possibility.

Susie sat back and closed her eyes. Okay, the rational thing to do would be to find out if he was actually driving. He could have leant the car to a friend, after all – and why would he be coming into Melbourne on a Saturday, anyway?

"Portable 200, can you please give me a description of the drivers?" Susie asked into the radio, her voice as steady as she could manage.

"The woman is in her thirties, Sarge – her ID says her name is Maree Huntington. She is -"

"The other one, what about the other one?" Susie cut in, desperation now hitting her like a ball to the stomach.

"Male, late thirties, light brown hair, about one ninety centimetres..." the voice broke off, background noise evident for a moment. "We've got an ID, his name's Evan Jones. Oh, and Sarge, he's a cop, and lives in Seymour... Sarge?"

"Thank you," Susie said faintly, sinking back down into her chair. "VKC out."

She forced a deep breath through tight lungs that didn't want to cooperate, in a desperate attempt to maintain her composure. Gaining some fragile control over her emotions, she headed back for her superior's office.

"Boss, there's been a traffic accident out on the freeway – I have to get out there."

"On what grounds, Raynor? Aren't McMarshall and Chang already out there?"

"I have to... because I know one of the drivers," she said, hearing herself speak calmly as though she was a third person in the room, merely watching.

The senior sergeant took a long look at her. "Then go."

Susie didn't bother thanking him as she left.

---

"Sergeant, I'm going to have to ask you step aside -" a senior constable hesitantly told her as Susie screeched up to the closed-off freeway, parking haphazardly and jumping out.

"No you bloody don't," she retorted, disregarding the officer completely and striding towards the wreck that were two cars. The sight made her feel sick in the stomach, as though someone had just gutted it.

A quick glance at the twisted pile told her that despite the copious amount of blood splattering on the upholstery, neither driver appeared to be there.

"They're gone?" she said aloud to no one in particular.

"Hospital," an unfamiliar sergeant replied, one that must have been from another station. "Left about five minutes ago."

Of course, Susie repeated to herself grimly. McMarshall had told her that over the radio – why did she bother coming here? She knew it was her mind not thinking straight, not taking in information as it should... Bloody hell.

Without another word, and again ignoring the senior constable standing by, she hopped back into her waiting car and sped off for the hospital, not looking back.

---

"Evan Jones, just brought in?" Susie questioned shortly upon arriving at the hospital and marching up the admissions counter.

"He's been taken to theatre," the clerk told her, glancing off a clipboard. "He'll be quite a while I imagine. How are you related to him?"

Susie opened her mouth, not having a suitable answer prepared. Her mind flickered between friend, colleague, acquaintance and back again.

The woman frowned at her hesitation. "Policy says only family members can enter the ICU," she pointed out rather brusquely, obviously choosing to ignore Susie's uniform.

"As good as that," Susie said briskly, praying that her face would not tell otherwise.

The woman pursed her lips, obviously not entirely satisfied, but smart enough not to pick a fight. "If you leave me your number, I can call you as soon as he's out."

"I'll wait, thanks."

"Suit yourself." The woman turned to tend to another person, and Susie sat herself down amongst the plastic-framed chairs. Everything was smooth, shiny – artificial, sterile. Susie would have preferred to see a few potted plants around, or something that seemed a bit more natural.

She glanced sideways at the innocent stack of magazines on the table, giving them a wary and hostile glare. Typical – people sitting here, suffering, and you want to fill their brains with trashy tabloids, she thought derisively.

Turning her body slightly away from the stack, she sat back and checked her watch, hoping that the time would fly, yet slow down at the same time.

Her mind was working in circles here, she knew.

Christ, what had he been doing in the car, Susie thought. Why did this have to happen – today of all days! Her first day of duty after Phil, and now this. It was like there was something out there to get at her, but she sure as hell wouldn't let it.

She just wished for a brighter outcome this time. Please, she silently implored.

---

It was white. Too white. Too bright, they hurt.

Evan shut his eyes within a second, squinting away from the starkness of the light, returning back to the cherished darkness.

He could hear a buzz of machines, distant footsteps, but a still silence pressed against his ears as though they were under some kind of pressure. Each thought entering his head was fuzzy, like a bad television reception. He concentrated for a minute, and then figured out where he was, and why he was there.

Footsteps were coming closer; brisk, clicking shoes on lino. He felt movement near him, and tried to move his head, groaning as he did.

"You're awake."

No kidding, Evan thought groggily as he dared to open his eyes once more. Taking a moment to adjust to the light, he looked up and saw a nurse's face above him.

"How're you feeling?"

"Been better," he muttered truthfully.

The nurse smiled wryly. "And I've heard much worse. You were lucky, all things considered. Are you in any pain?"

Evan gave the tiniest shake of his head, letting his eyes drift close again.

"Good. You're under sedation, that's why you're feeling weak. Get some rest, and tell me if you need anything."

Evan barely had time to register the words, before his mind closed off once more.

---

"Sergeant?"

Susie felt a hand gently nudge her shoulder, and abruptly sat up in straighter in her chair, not believing she had dropped off – in the middle of the day, too!

"What's happened?"

The clerk gave a mild smile. "Mr Jones has come out of theatre, and he's asleep. He'll be like that for some time, I'm sure – the anaesthetic can take hours to wear off. Why don't you go, and I'll give you a call as soon as he's awake?"

Susie hesitated – she didn't want to leave just yet. But perhaps the woman was right; she had to draw the line somewhere. She couldn't afford to be stupid at a crucial time like this.

"But he'll be okay?" She had to know.

"The doctors are keeping him closely monitored, but from what I'm told he should make a full recovery in due course."

Susie stood up, and looked the clerk in the eye. "And you'll call?"

"As soon as I hear anything," the woman assured her calmly.

Susie sighed, running a weary hand through her hair, and headed for the automatic doors.

---

Six hours later...

"You alright to sit up?" the nurse questioned.

Evan nodded. "Yeah, fine." His head still felt as though it had been stuffed with cottonwool, and his limbs felt weak, but he was determined.

The nurse helped him sit up and looked pleased. "You're doing extremely well, I have to say."

"Takes more than a bit of a bump to get rid of me," he replied ruefully.

"Good. Because there's a cop here to see you," she told him, halfway out the door. "I'll let reception know that you're up now."

Evan's shoulders slumped at the thought. He knew that they'd come down soon enough to get a statement, but the bloody idiots – couldn't leave him alone for long enough!

His thought was interrupted by a blonde sergeant entering the room. His jaw dropped open. "Susie?"

"Well, at least we can cross amnesia off the list," she replied dryly as way of an answer, standing at the foot of his bed.

"What are you doing here?"

She merely shot him a sharp look. There was a pause. "Never got to say goodbye to you before," Evan said casually.

"No, I suppose you didn't." Susie's eyes clouded with a certain sadness that Evan didn't think he had seen before, let alone what was the sudden cause of it.

"Suse?" he asked tentatively.

"So what were you doing, coming down to Melbourne?" Susie inquired, swiftly steering the subject away from herself. She couldn't let her emotions get in the way, she knew. She was already on grief overdrive; one little straw could send her tipping over the edge.

"Some idiots forgot to make me sign the papers after the conference," he answered with a groan. "I had to come back down to do it meself."

"Mmmhmm." She seemed slightly preoccupied, which struck him as bizarre as seeing her walk into the room in the first place.

"Hey, Suse, I never got to ask you something," he spoke up, suddenly remembering.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Old Phillsy mentioned your significant other." His eyes were quizzical, and slightly wounded. "You never told me you were seeing someone."

"I didn't think it was your business to know," she said defensively.

"You should've told me," he said flatly. "I wouldn't have let – you know," he put in awkwardly, "It shouldn't have happened."

"Yeah, you're right, it shouldn't have." It came out easily from her mouth – too easily. So she really did regret it ever happening, just like he had thought. Bugger.

And he couldn't help feeling rather hurt by her words.

"You know I never would've even considered it for a moment if I knew you were seeing someone," he pointed out quietly.

Susie avoided his eye, looking at a painting on the wall instead. "Yeah, well, it doesn't matter now."

"How can you say that?"

"What?"

"Of course it matters – who is this guy, and does he know?"

The thought of Phil made Susie's chest tighten, her eyes beginning to sting. If Evan was going to be like this – and God, if he hadn't changed in the past nine years, then he would be – she had to get out. The wound was still too raw.

"Suse, say something."

"Look, it's in the past now, so just forget about it," she answered shortly.

"What if I can't?"

"For God's sake!" For someone who was meant to have been through a traumatic day, he was sure firing the questions at a hundred k's an hour.

Evan was taken aback. He knew he was interrogating her – disregarding his bed-stricken position and after-effects of anaesthetic – but honestly, it was just a simple question. One of which she obviously had to turn into an issue.

Meanwhile, Susie was both infuriated and ashamed. She knew she was making this more difficult that necessary; but then, why couldn't he take the hint that she didn't want to discuss this any longer? Didn't he realise, or was he deliberately ignoring it? Susie was willing to bet on the latter. He'd always been determined like that.

But that was who Evan Jones was, and she wouldn't change him. For someone whom she hadn't seen for years on end, she felt she knew him explicitly and that fact almost scared her.

Damn, how did he get to her like that? Even when Phil was around... but that didn't matter any more, like she had said. He was dead. Gone.

She knew she had absolutely no right to be angry at Phil, but it was almost like if he was still here, this wouldn't have been happening. Which was just as, if not more, ridiculous to even think about. Bugger.

"I should let you get some rest," Susie said stiffly, preparing to walk straight out. But something made her turn back as she reached the door, despite the silence that blew by her ears. His hazel-green eyes were watching her every move, scrutinising, reaching out to her. The sight was unbearable, she couldn't hesitate or else she'd never leave.

It pained her to do it, to leave him in the lurch like this, yet she knew this was a time to be cruel, but only to be kind. The kindness would appear in the end. It had to, or God help her.

Her hand lingered on the door handle as she closed it, but neither heard the other's sigh from the other side of the wall that stood between.

---

Her hand felt behind the back of her neck, expecting the smooth coolness of the metal, but feeling nothing. She frowned, looking around her bedroom in perplexity.

"Looking for something?" A familiar voice floated over from the doorway, and she turned towards it.

Evan was leaning against the doorframe, her silver neck chain hooked over his fingertips and swinging slightly in the non-existent breeze.

"You found it," Susie smiled, walking over to get it back.

He stepped backwards.

"What's the matter?" she asked, confused.

"You have to catch me first," he taunted, stepping back some more.

"Jonesy..." she began, hesitantly stepping forwards. "What are you doing?"

"Come on, what's stopping you? You want it back, don't you?" Light glimmered off the chain drooping from his fingers.

"I... Yes."

"Well, what, then?" He continued to step back.

"Stop walking," she said.

"Or what?" More steps.

"Jonesy, just stop it," she repeated, almost pleadingly.

"And I'll take this too." He reached for a framed photograph of Phil that was sitting on a shelf, before stepping outside, away from the door, and out of sight.

Susie woke with a pillow damp from tears, feeling furious with herself.

---

Three days later...

"Get him into the interview room. Now." Susie crossed her arms and looked at the constables, who immediately nodded and scuttled off.

"Sarge, what do we do with the extra firearms?" another constable asked.

She held in a sigh that was threatening to come out. "Book them in to the property office, and then let Homicide know the number and registrations of them."

"Thanks, Sarge."

Susie bowed her head and massaged her throbbing temples, elbows on her desk.

"Sergeant?" Her superior's voice spoke up from somewhere behind her, startling her slightly.

"Yes, Boss?"

"How are you?" The question was no mere greeting, and Susie knew it.

"I've seen better days, but I'm fine," she replied tonelessly.

"You remember I strongly urged you to take some leave?" he reminded pointedly.

Susie nodded. "I remember, but with all due respect, Boss, I'd rather be here."

"Or are you just telling yourself that?" After years in the force – too many, some may say – he had seen several cases like this one. Losing a fellow officer, whether it was a colleague, friend, or something more, was always difficult, and you never fully recovered. They all came back to work far too soon, as though working again could block it all out. It never did, but he couldn't say that to them. Raynor, here, would have to find out for herself.

Her silence spoke more than words ever could as her superior struck at the truth.

"The option is still there," he told her quietly, before leaving her at her desk.

Susie grimaced. She appreciated his concern, but he didn't know half of it. God, if Phil's death was the only thing on her mind, then her head wouldn't be pounding to the intensity that it was.

She opened her desk drawer, rummaging a hand through the stationary that lay there. Her hand gripped at a small rectangle box, and she opened it, peering inside. She brought out the foil packet, seeing all twelve circular holes torn open raggedly. Damn, Susie thought, throwing the Panadol box back inside and slamming the drawer shut.

She reluctantly stood up and headed for the break room, dodging the lockers and scattered chairs. Another drawer was opened, more rummaging around, but with no avail.

"Johnston, have you seen the Panadol?" she snapped in direction from the lockers.

"Dunno, Sarge, I think Bradley took the last one the other day."

She slammed the drawer shut, not caring how loud it sounded. "Then why didn't she tell me?"

"Couldn't say, Sarge, sorry."

Susie growled under her breath and reached for a mug. Caffeine would probably do her no good whatsoever, but she was willing to risk it.

The door opened. "Sergeant Raynor?"

"Yes?" she answered through gritted teeth.

"Visitor for you."

"Thank you," she replied, replacing the mug back in the cupboard and stalking outside.

She opened the door to the front foyer with a hard grip, letting it bounce off the wall. Not too good for the impression, she mused distractedly, but such petty things didn't matter.

She froze when she saw it to be Evan, her mouth about to say something but suddenly stopping.

"What are you doing here?" she asked abruptly. It had been days since the accident, since she had gone into his hospital room. She hadn't called to check if he was okay, and she knew he'd be a bit miffed about that. For all she knew, he could have been released and gone back to Seymour. It was sort of in limbo.

But he had obviously got sick of her non-existence, and remembered her mentioning where she now worked. The notion that she was not inaccessible irritated her slightly; she had no control over when or if she should ever see him.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," he retorted sardonically, in answer to the question that she hadn't asked.

She pursed her lips with acknowledgement, but reluctance. "Are you alright?" she asked perpetually.

"Like I told 'em, it takes a good deal more than a bit of a bump to knock me off."

"Bit of a bump?" she repeated incredulously. "Jonesy, you collided with another car!"

"No, he collided with me."

"Okay," she agreed. "But you could have been killed."

"And wouldn't have that been dreadful?" he answered rhetorically, and then gave her a sideways look. "Or would it?"

"Don't give me that," she said with a derisive look. "Why are you here?"

"I was under the impression that I'd be wanted to be seen to before I went back out to the sticks," he replied, "but forgive me if I'm wrong."

Those painkillers obviously weren't messing with his comebacks, Susie noted wryly. "Don't flatter yourself."

"So I guess I'll be going, then," he shrugged nonchalantly, turning to leave. She almost rolled her eyes; they both knew what he was doing.

Still, she couldn't resist. "Jonesy, don't go yet."

He turned back and put one hand on the counter, leaning against it casually. "Oh?" he asked expectantly.

Now that she had got his attention, she didn't know what to say. Part of her wanted to strangle him, the other wanted to smile and just be grateful he was still standing.

"Got those conference forms signed, then?" she muttered, remembering why he had come down to Melbourne in the first place.

He stared, as though he couldn't believe she had mentioned something so trivial of all things. "Nup, I don't have time for this," he shook his head.

Irritation took a hold of Susie. "What, I said something, didn't I?"

He shot her a scathing look. "Unbelievable."

"Excuse me?"

"Okay, so maybe what happened to us was a mistake," Evan began in a rush – obviously this had been playing on his mind. "But I saw you for the first time in nearly a decade, and excuse me for thinking that was a good thing."

"I -" she started, but he cut her off.

"Maybe we shouldn't have let things go further. Maybe we should have just kept things simple. But don't you go and blame me for making that mistake, because if I remember rightly it was as much you as it was me." He took a breath; he was on a roll, and he didn't care how many times she would try to interrupt. She had to hear this.

"If you had such an issue with it all, why didn't you just confront me? God knows, Suse, you were never afraid to say what you felt," he added, his tone quietening slightly, "and that's what I liked so much about you. But you just take off, without saying anything." His volume began growing louder once more. "And then by some coincidence, my car accident winds up at your station, and then you still act like it's something I deliberately concocted up?"

"That's complete -"

"No, Suse, you're hearing me out on this one." He took another breath, as though trying to steady himself. "And then you disappear again. You know, I hated it when you left Mount Thomas, because for the first time in a long time I had found someone that was on my level, someone who actually accepted me for who I was and didn't try to change me. But that's okay, I'm not blaming you for leaving. Yet when I try and put the pieces back together, I'm getting the impression that you would rather not do anything to even try and -"

Susie had heard enough, her temper starting to boil over. "You don't even know a quarter of what's going on, so don't you dare try and -"

"Dare try and what? Turn it onto you? Because, Christ, that's never happened before." The immense sarcasm was slightly startling for Susie, but it struck her that his words held an element of truth in them.

All the same, he had never been good at getting his facts right before jumping to conclusions. If only he knew about Phil, if only...

But he doesn't, a voice in her head spoke, he doesn't know about Phil. Perhaps it was time that he knew.

Her lack of a comeback to his sarcasm was taken as a sign of obstinance, and he gave her a look he had never given her before. It was a look she recalled as being saved for crims, the ones who had committed the most sickening of crimes. It screamed out 'pathetic', and the expression made her feel small, about to burst into tears. She hated not being the person who he remembered, hated the disappointment painted on his face.

"So, it was nice seeing you again, Sergeant Raynor. Good luck."

Evan turned and left the station without another word, showing no signs of injury or physical pain, although it had to be assumed he felt it. The foyer was suddenly quiet, somewhat unnatural after such noise. Susie closed her eyes, unconsciously clenching her fists into tight balls, and praying for her composure to keep upright – at least until she was alone and off-duty.

"Sarge?" The door behind her burst open. "We need those search warrants, the boss said that -"

"Coming," Susie muttered wearily, throwing one last look at the foyer door before retreating back inside to the office.

---

Two weeks later...

It seemed life did go on, with or without its potholes. Susie felt a heavy weight in her heart, but ignored it as she worked hours that drove well into the night. Working was, on occasion, a godsend, because it meant she could focus on others' problems rather than her own. It meant that she could forget about her life, and at least try to make a difference to someone else's. It was a satisfying feeling to know that you were doing at least one good thing.

Still, despite all that, each time her desk phone rang her insides jumped, as though they were fighting to get out. She despised it, but couldn't help it.

It wasn't like she was expecting Evan to call, anyway. Not with how she behaved towards him, and frankly, she couldn't blame him either. She knew in the back of her mind that she could always look his station's number up herself, but she never made herself do it. It would be a waste of her time.

No, she decided, the whole issue was over, and it was time to move on. Just like she had, nine years ago.

So Susie painted her face with a smile, and fought hard to uphold the justice system. No one knew otherwise what was hurling around under the façade like a fresh tornado. And she planned to keep it that way.

---

"Please don't panic, Mrs Jeffries, we'll be over as soon as we can." Evan hung up the phone. "There's been a cold burg in Thornton's Lane," he announced. "O'Connor, you're with me."

"Take someone else with you, O'Connor," the station's inspector instructed, standing in the doorway connecting his own office and the main one. The senior constable nodded obediently. "Sergeant Jones, I'd like to see you in my office, please."

Evan stood with a mixture of impatience and curiosity. Once seated at his superior's desk with the office door shut behind them, he opened his mouth. "Boss, if you ask me that woman was asking for it -"

"Jones, you're not in here for any explanations," his boss broke in. "Although, come to think of it, the report of the incident would be much appreciated if it was in by midday tomorrow. I actually have a proposition for you," he added.

"A what?" Evan repeated without thinking, taken aback.

"For Pete's sake, Jones, look it up in the dictionary if you don't know the definition," the inspector said edgily. So Jones had been in a car accident only a couple of weeks ago – it didn't excuse disrespect. He reached for a piece of paper on his desk. "Have a read."

Evan scanned the typed words. "Department expansion... increased importance of communications... da da da... New sergeant position?" he read interestedly. "But what -" Both eyebrows shot upwards. "Sydney Central Homicide?" He looked up at his superior. "What's this about?"

"If you haven't figured it out already, they want a new sergeant. I'll put in my recommendations if you want me to." The inspector regarded him with carefully expectant eyes. "Well?"

"You're shitting me, aren't ya?"

"Not quite the answer I was looking for." The older man's tone was dry. "Jones?"

"Recommendations?"

"The conference credentials. They'll be highly regarded. You've had good reports from it."

"Oh." Evan sat in his seat, stumped. This was one hell of a promotion – almost unheard of. Homicide? Sydney? Who in their right mind went searching around Victoria to get one? Seymour, of all places! "Why me?"

"Look, I understand that since your traffic accident you've been battling some inner demons. This might be the answer for you."

Wouldn't you like to know, Evan thought, although he kept it to himself.

"Anyway, have a think about it," his superior's voice cut through his thoughts. "Let me know, won't you?"

"Yes, Boss," he muttered faintly, not really listening as he excused himself from the office.

---

"The session will recommence in twenty minutes."

There was a buzz of low murmurings as the court's assembly stood up and proceeded outside. Susie went with the flow, wondering where the nearest coffee shop was. She wasn't a particular fan of going to court, especially when it wasn't her case and there was literally nothing for her to do.

Sighting a coffee stand outside the courthouse, she joined the queue, checking her watch.

"Sergeant Raynor, fancy seeing you here."

Susie turned behind her, coming face to face with John Walker: smug lawyer and someone she tried her best to avoid at all possible times.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" He flashed a white grin at her.

Not long enough, Susie thought darkly, remembering only too well the times he had tried one on her. "Yeah," she replied coolly.

"How have you been?"

"Great," she answered offhandedly. "And yourself?"

"Well, it could always be better." He winked, and Susie wished that the line would hurry up and move.

"Walker," an unfamiliar voice called from a few metres away. A tall man with neat brown hair approached them, also looking to Susie like another lawyer. "Turner's been looking for you. He wants a word."

"Christ, not again," John muttered under his breath with displeasure. "Well, Susie, another time," he smiled once more at her, before walking off.

The other man remained, taking John's position in the queue. He saw Susie's relief at John leaving, and laughed. "Sorry to break the conversation."

"No, don't be," she replied honestly.

"Ah, that John, he just needs to learn when to listen," the man smiled. "Jack Winters."

"Susie Raynor," she said, accepting his hand. "Are you working on the Cooper case as well?"

"No, actually, I'm on the triple homicide," he said matter-of-factly, a twinkle of amusement in his brown eyes.

Susie felt herself smile back rather broadly, more than necessary, and then wanting to kick herself for it. "That must be interesting."

"Yeah, but it's pretty heart-wrenching to watch the parents go through it all again," Jack shrugged. "Still, someone's gotta do it." He looked at her uniform. "So, sergeant, eh? Where are you based?"

"Broadmeadows," she replied. "Not too glamorous, I know, but someone's gotta do it."

He laughed. "Yeah."

Susie became at the head of the queue. "What were you after?" she asked him.

"Just a latte, ta."

"Two lattes, thanks," she told the boy behind the counter, taking out her wallet.

"No, my shout," Jack broke in, his own wallet already in his hand.

Susie smiled. "Well, thanks." Smooth, Raynor, she thought with distaste, and then pushed the thought out of her mind.

"How long are you in session for?" he asked as he paid for the coffees.

"Knowing them, probably till past five," she answered with a half-hearted groan. "How about you?"

"About the same. You know, this might seem a bit out of the blue, but did you want to grab some dinner with me afterwards?"

Susie was surprised, but not altogether ungrateful. He was charming, and obviously well-respected... but – oh, she didn't know – something niggled at the back of her mind.

"God, I'm tempted," she began, "but I've had some pretty traumatic experiences lately, and I don't think I'm willing to go out just yet."

Jack simply shrugged. "Well, it was just a thought."

"Thanks for the offer anyway," she added. "Maybe another time, eh?"

"Yeah, maybe," he grinned, thankfully showing no animosity. "Look, I'd better be heading back, but it was nice meeting you, Susie."

"You too, Jack." She watched him head back to the courthouse, a small smile playing across her face. It was flattering, but it didn't seem right. Phil's death was still too recent. Yeah, that's what it was, she assured herself, refusing to let herself think otherwise.

---

"Well, that's that, then." The inspector scrawled his signature on the topmost piece of paper and put his pen down. "Done."

Evan nodded and took the pile. "Thanks, Boss."

"Don't thank me," his superior said, although there was a twinkle in his eye. As much as he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he was going to miss the sergeant. He was a good asset to the station.

Evan left the office in a slight daze. He was a serial town-hopper, sure, but moving interstate was another thing altogether. He felt like pinching himself, but resisted the temptation.

Hell, it was going to be different. The city. Homicide. More superiors to keep an eye on him.

But the thought was exciting, even if the decision wasn't concrete yet. He would trial himself, see if he liked it. His boss agreed that it was a good idea, and that if he decided to return to Seymour, there would be a place for him.

And best of all, it was an opportunity for him to start life over – again. Forget the past, and have a clean start. Change was like a holiday, after all.

Perhaps there was an element of truth in that.

---

A week later...

"Coming for a drink, Sarge?"

"No thanks, Harris, I think I'll have an early one," Susie replied, feeling a sense of relief as she signed off the shift. It had been a bugger of a day, and she couldn't wait to curl up with a drink in the sanctuary of her home.

At home, when she was changed into a comfortable top and a pair of track pants, she sat on the couch and absently flicked the television on, her other hand holding a glass of red.

Cricket. Documentary. Some romantic movie. A trashy reality show. None of them really appealed to her, but she flipped back to the movie nevertheless. It was sort of depressing, sitting here drinking a decent wine by herself, although God knew she should have been used to it by now. Yet that didn't make it any easier.

She wouldn't have minded a night on the town, but the thought of making conversation and catching up with girlfriends weren't really on her highlight list. It were times like these that cast her mind back to when she was married, when she came back home and Brad was waiting for her. Or vice versa, when she had waited for him. The safe routine, the knowledge that if you'd had a bad day, the other would cheer you up again. Decent conversation where you could say anything on your mind. It had been a comfortable life – alright, so one that hadn't lasted, but good nevertheless.

She'd touched on the same familiarity with few people since. She couldn't even count Phil in that category – perhaps if they'd had a chance to, but that was now lost. There'd been another guy she ended up seeing for a year, but who eventually moved overseas and thus ending their relationship. Then there was another female sergeant who'd she'd made friends with when she was at Eltham, but got married, left the force, and Susie had lost touch with her. And lastly, there had been Evan Jones, all those years ago back in Mount Thomas. It was sort of ironic that he had reappeared in her life again, of all people. What were the chances?

Susie smiled affectionately at the memories. The nights spent at the Imperial, laughing over drinks and constantly beating him at the pool table. He didn't have a bad hand at the shot, exactly, but had the tendency to misjudge angles. Something she kept in mind to use to her advantage, which explained why she always wiped the table clean whenever they played.

Damn, they had got along well, she thought. Why the hell did she have to go and ruin it? First moving out of Mount Thomas, and then screwing him nine years later? She'd always been a bit impulsive like that.

The old memories resurfacing made her miss all of it even more. What she wouldn't do to be able to just call him – or anyone, for that matter – and just talk. No barriers, no expectations.

Perhaps she could fix it. She knew that he'd walked back out of her life for the second time now, but that didn't mean they couldn't have a third shot. She owed him an explanation or two – if it wasn't for her lack of communication, maybe he'd still be around. It was a bittersweet thought.

In fact, the more she thought about it, the more confident she grew as to how to make it right again. The small thought of her failing refused to enter her mind.

She'd ring Seymour tomorrow, she thought sleepily, lying her head down on one of the couch cushions. It was a good thing it was her day off.

She drifted into sleep with a smile on her face.

---

"He's left?" Susie repeated the next morning, sitting at her kitchen bench, swinging a leg underneath her. The phone was wedged between her shoulder and her chin as she clutched at her coffee with one hand, and twined her fingers around the phone cord with the other. "Can you tell me when he'll be back in?"

There was a pause.

"What do you mean, left-left? Where's he gone?"

Susie bit her lip as she listened to the other end. "Sydney? And so his flight's today?" A sigh escaped her lips, perhaps she shouldn't be doing this after all. No, another part of her argued, he had some explaining of his own to do. How dare he take off for Sydney without telling her?

Well, okay. So they weren't exactly keeping in contact any more, and hadn't for weeks. Would she have done the same in that position? Probably.

Still, it was easier to lay him with blame.

"Constable, I don't give a crap about it being confidential," she snapped as her questioning was being refused on the other end. "When is his flight?"

Another pause.

"If you don't tell me now, I swear to God, I will – thank you," she said coldly as the constable finally obliged and went off to find the information. She put down her coffee and drummed her fingers on the bench top, impatience radiating off her.

"Yep, I'm still here," she said when the constable got back on the line. "Uh huh... yeah. Okay, thanks." She slammed down the receiver, knowing she had been rude, but frankly didn't care. His flight left in ninety minutes, and it would take more than half of that time to get there.

She didn't think she had left the house with her hair in such a mess for a very long time, she thought ruefully as she slammed the front door behind her.

---

Susie looked up at the huge, black, billboard-like sign describing the times and gates for each departure flight. God, she was lucky it was only a domestic and not an international.

Gate 12. On the other side of the terminal – this was just getting better by the minute. Checking her watch, she headed off at a jog, paranoid that she would be late.

It struck her as somewhat bizarre. Catching him right before he was about to jump on a plane would achieve nothing, but she was still doing it. What did that make her?

She got to the departure point where only passengers could continue, not out of breath, but slightly flustered. He was no where in sight, although that wasn't exactly surprising.

"Excuse me," she approached one of the security guards standing by the automatic door, "but have you seen a man come through here? He's about this tall," she gestured with a hand, "brown hair..." It occurred to her that any description she may give would be extremely vague. Verbally spoken, Evan was rather ordinary. Better looking than most, but she couldn't say that too easily to this guy, could she?

"Sorry, ma'am, you're going to have to be more specific," the man replied plainly, probably used to this all the time. "Hundreds of people pass through these gates. I can't recall all of them."

"Thanks," Susie muttered, wandering over to some plastic seats and dejectedly sinking down into one. He might've gone through already, and the bastard was browsing the duty-free shops. Probably stocking up on the grog, she thought disdainfully. She could go and check around the building, but she would probably miss him. If he was around to be missed in the first place.

She checked her watch. The flight was boarding, and with each passing minute her spirits slid down a notch. She dismally rested her elbows on her knees, and rested her head in her hands. This was pathetic. She was pathetic, to have some sudden notion that this was the right thing to do.

"Suse?"

She jumped in her chair, startled. Evan was standing a few metres away, looking incredulous as though her sitting there was a figment of his imagination.

Susie's face broke out into a grin as she approached him.

"What – what are you doing here?" he asked in disbelief.

"Oh, you know," she shrugged, playing it cool, "I heard that someone I know was moving to Sydney."

He grinned. "That's funny, I'm just heading up there myself."

"Really." She could only manage to grin back, feeling ridiculously happy. It was struck her as strange, that her animosity could just vanish in a split second. Seeing him again made her realise it wasn't worth it.

"Geez, Suse, I haven't seen a bird's nest like that for a while," he said, nodding towards her blonde hair.

"It's not that bad, is it?" she replied sheepishly, combing her fingers through the uncombed tangles.

"Define bad?"

"Yeah, righto," she groaned, rolling her eyes.

"So, honestly, what are you doing here?" he asked seriously.

She gave him an accusing stare. "You didn't tell me you were moving."

"You didn't ask."

Yeah. Right.

Knowing it was now or never to make amends, she took a breath. "Jonesy, I wasn't being honest with you before. You know I was seeing someone..."

"Mmm..." he raised an eyebrow expectantly. He'd waited a while to hear this.

"His name was Phil," she continued, keeping her tone steady. "He was also a copper. But he... er -" her voice faltered and she looked down for a moment. "He got shot at close range whilst on duty. A week after the conference."

She didn't have to explain that he had died; Evan knew the chances of surviving when being shot at close range. Additionally, her expression spoke volumes.

Shit. He'd put his foot in it, hadn't he? No wonder she hadn't wanted to talk about the guy; Evan couldn't blame her. His mind cast back to a week after the conference, it was prior to his accident.

So throughout his time in hospital, she had been battling her own demons. And then he'd selfishly demanded her time. Christ.

"Hell, Suse, I'm sorry," he said genuinely, at a loss as what to do. "How long had you been together?"

"Well, we were sort of on a break at the time," she explained. "But just under half a year."

He nodded mutely. "I'm sorry I pushed you."

"No." She shook her head determinedly. "I was the one who was being difficult. You didn't know, because I didn't have the decency to tell you."

He looked at her carefully. "Well, I know now."

"Yeah. It's in the past now, anyway."

"So were we, technically."

"But why do we have to be?" she asked abruptly, making him look taken back at her straight-forwardness. "Because – God, Jonesy, you were one of the best friends I ever had, and I don't want to have to lose that. Again."

"You reckon?" he asked, his eyes twinkling just that bit brighter.

Before she had a chance to answer, they were interrupted by the final call for boarding.

"Look, all I'm saying is that we can still get along, yeah?" she said in a rush, knowing that they only had a few more minutes.

"Hell, yeah," he agreed as though it was obvious.

She smiled, almost tearfully, before reaching out for his embrace. "I can't believe it's been nine years."

He hugged her back tightly. "Not that you've been counting."

She chuckled, and he pulled back slightly to look her in the eye. "You know, it's only Sydney."

"Yeah, I know, but -"

Evan knew she would only protest, so he did the only thing he could think of to shut her up. He captured her lips with his, and sure enough, her words fell into silence. It felt so good to be held by him, she thought to herself, and as corny as it sounded, it was like she belonged there. She was lucky she wasn't in uniform, or her eagerness to kiss him back would be seen as highly unprofessional.

A minute later he broke off, giving her a devilish grin as she tugged her arms down from around his neck. "Oh, and by the way, did I mention I might not actually be moving there?"

"You what?" Susie yelped, before the realisation struck her. "You bastard -"

"You mean that?" he cut in, and she glared in mock exasperation.

"No," she admitted finally.

"I'll call, if you want."

"How long will you be there?"

"Three weeks. Max."

Long enough for her, Susie reasoned, and walked up to the same security guard. "Do you have a pen, by any chance?" Looking perplexed, the officer handed her one. "Thanks."

Returning to Evan, she grabbed his hand. "Here," she said, scribbling her number on the back of his palm, before giving back the pen to its rightful owner. "You really should go, or you'll miss your flight."

"Yeah," Evan nodded reluctantly. "Take care?"

"Only if you do. Don't get lost in the traffic," she added good-humorously.

"I'll do my best. Oh, and thanks for coming," he said, beginning to back towards the automatic doors. "I'll talk to you soon."

"You better," she replied warningly, though her blue eyes sparkled as she said it.

He turned back suddenly, reaching into the pocket of his jeans. "Oh, and here," he added, throwing her something. She almost dropped it, before opening her fist. It was the silver chain she had left at the conference, now all those weeks ago.

She shot him a questioning look, and he shrugged, although he looked rather pleased with himself. He gave a wink, and disappeared behind the doors before she had a chance to ask him how he got to obtain her necklace, or why he had it on him.

She laughed to herself, the chain draped over her fingers.

For the first time that he had gone, she was left smiling.

the end

P.S. Feedback and constructive criticism is always appreciated:)