A/N: Here it is, the last chapter. I want to thank everyone who read and commented. Your words made my days so much better:) I hope this last chapter will be satisfying as well and that you enjoyed the story. I'll be happy to hear your thoughts or prompts. Till next time - have an awesome day :)
Epilogue
Walking with crutches was so much harder than it looked when some other poor soul hobbled on them. Bill had the added complication of trying to keep the flowers from coming to harm as he navigated the narrow, cobbled road.
It took him a while to find the place. He hasn't visited it for quite some time and he partially dreaded of what he might find. Did anyone take care of it during all those years? What if it was gone? Could he even find it in this bloody labyrinth?
Finally, his eyes caught the familiar name on the headstone and he came to a halt.
This was it. His mother's grave.
Bill swallowed the huge lump in his throat. He looked around, as if worried to have any witnesses, but the graveyard was mostly empty. It was just past lunchtime on a Monday. Most people had better things to do than visit the cemetery it seemed.
Once there was no visible reason for him to balk, he slowly hobbled the few steps forward and came to a stop right in front of the headstone. He leaned the crutches against the next over grave, ignoring the fact it might've been disrespectful. Right now, all he cared for was the name on this headstone, the woman lying beneath it. The resentment he felt towards her all these years, the pain of having to go through her loss, all of it coming to the surface with vengeance.
Bill felt the pressure in his sinuses, the stuffed nose and the burning in his eyes.
Allergies, he thought.
One hand with the flowers brushed at his face, the other swept the cobwebs and dust from the headstone, the dead leaves from the ground in front of it, so he could gently place down the flowers.
"I'm so sorry," he muttered as he went down to kneel on his uninjured leg, letting the casted one lie awkwardly beneath him.
"I should have believed you."
All this time, Bill thought his father was right. Even though he loved his mother dearly and wanted to believe she wasn't crazy, her death served as proof of his father's words. All the disdain of the past, all the sneaky comments about 'being on a holiday' or 'enjoying her spa day' just drove in how much his father put down his mother.
Bill tried to ignore those words, but being a child it planted a seed of doubt in his heart. Despite the fact he saw the empty look in his mother's face every time she came home. He should have known better.
Yet, he did not.
All those years, he didn't want to admit, but he thought her weak too.
Until he had the misfortune of visiting the bloody asylum.
It might not have been the one his mother frequented, but he had a feeling it wasn't any less scary. Being a woman, alone in a place like that, stuck with other emotionally unstable people, being tied down and 'treated' in one of those rooms...
Just the thought of it made Bill's stomach turn.
He was thankful for the sparse breakfast and the fact the cemetery was empty, as he forced down a sob of regret.
In this moment, he hated his father more than anything.
In this moment, his biggest regret was not getting the chance to tell his mother how sorry he was for everything.
Something wet landed on his hand, the one still laying on the bouquet of flowers. He hitched in a breath then looked up at the sky, expecting to see clouds.
It was sunny.
Blinking, Bill reached up to brush at his burning eyes. He felt wetness under his fingers and stilled. There were tears running down his cheeks, tears he wasn't even aware of.
Bill hadn't cried for a long time. His father didn't allow tears in the house and later on, even living alone, Bill thought it right and kept to it. The only times he allowed tears to flow were when drunk off his ass, usually after a funeral of a friend.
This time he did not have that excuse. No one had died, even though they were bloody close to it.
Bill shook his head. He didn't want to think about the asylum or his mother anymore. All he wanted was to go home, get drunk and sleep until the damn cast was off his leg.
That was actually his plan for the next few days, seeing as he was on medical leave anyway. Before he could do that though... he owed someone a visit.
By the time he got back up to his feet and crutches, the tears had almost dried up. As he cast one last look at the headstone and hobbled out of the cemetery, he felt just a bit lighter on his feet.
Out of all people, Bill really didn't expect to be almost knocked off his feet by Rose Anderson. Yet, there she was, swinging the hospital door as if there was a fire.
Bill cursed and leaned against the wall, while Rose started apologizing. She paused momentarily as she recognized him.
"Oh, Sergeant Hobart! I really didn't mean to-"
Bill raised a hand, waving her off with a grimace.
"Stop with the bloody blithering," he snapped, really not in the mood for that. He just wanted to get this visit out of the way, didn't need Lawson's niece in his face for that.
Rose paused and the look of remorse quickly vanished from her face, replaced by some irritation.
'Great,' Bill thought. 'Now she will start in on me.' Bill wondered if he could just press by her and somehow escape this unplanned meeting, but she was standing fast in his way. Perhaps he could make her move on her own accord. All it needed was a bit of Hobart charm.
"Where were you heading, Anderson? Rushing to start another fire?"
Rose's eyes narrowed and she looked at him askance.
"I most definitely did not start that fire. Though I helped to put some out, while you were off wandering abandoned buildings."
Bill cringed inwardly then felt a cold chill run down his spine. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Rose. Did she know?
One of the reasons Bill was here right now was to try and figure out if his impromptu moment of truth he shared with Davis wasn't a mistake. At the moment, trapped and injured down in that damned place, sharing his past brought relief. But that had evaporated as soon as he was back home, the daylight streaming through his windows. At home, he cursed himself a fool and tried to convince himself that Davis knew better than to blab it out. Surely, the man had some sense of honour and wouldn't spill Bill's secret.
The trouble was, Bill knew Davis and Anderson used to be an item. He was also more than aware of the fact that he might've been the cause of the man's worsening injuries. After all, the man asked him to get in the bloody wheelchair. Instead, Bill's pride won over and he forced Davis to drag him around. If the bloody fool had told him...
Bill shook his head. This was not the place. He would have to address Davis face to face and resolve the issue, before the man could cause some damage. Bill just hoped he didn't already.
"Well, I would 'love' to chat, but I need to go. There is an article to be written," Rose smiled, pulling Bill out of his thoughts. He startled, looking at her, trying to figure out what she meant. Surely, Davis wouldn't hate him this much?
"What?" Bill let out, sounding off even to his own ears. The smile on Rose's face turned into a concerned frown.
"Are you alright, sergeant? You look a bit pale. Oh, I hope I am not keeping you from a check-up!"
Bill shook his head before he could go along with it.
"No that's... I just came to visit."
Rose smiled again.
"Oh, that's great! Charlie should be still awake. He will be happy for a visit, he was already asking about you."
Bill was once again taken aback.
"He was?"
"Yes," Rose replied easily, either ignoring or not noticing Bill's apprehension. "He wanted to know how your leg was. I hope it is healing well?"
"Uh... yes," Bill replied, still taken aback. Based on her tone and words, Bill had a feeling that Davis hasn't told her anything. Which was good.
Rose must've sensed he wasn't in the mood to keep up the pep talk or she felt about as uncomfortable as him, because she gave him a tight smile and a nod.
"Good, that's good. It was nice to see you, sergeant. Once again, sorry for slamming into you."
Bill waved her off and grumbled something incomprehensible then headed inside. It was time to face Davis.
It took him a bit to locate Charlie's room. Once at the nurse's desk, Bill decided it might be a good idea to check on his other two colleagues as well. That way, no one could accuse him of 'caring' for Davis.
He quickly found out that Peter Thompson had already been released. That left John Kelly. Bill's visit was short as the man was fighting off the effects of the heavy concussion. Bill left the room quickly, feeling a surge of anger towards the bastards that dared to attack the station. He had been caught up on all that happened during that bloody night and wished he could turn back the time. If he only ignored the call and headed back... Bill would have gladly beaten the crap out of the bastards. Admittedly, he knew it most likely wouldn't have helped and he would either be lying in the bed next to Kelly or in the morgue. During the night he was also plagued by nightmares of the place, waking up in cold sweat at the thought that Lawson and Davis wouldn't have taken the call. If they just ignored it... he would have entered the asylum alone. The mere idea of going through all of that alone had sent him rushing to the bathroom.
No, however worried Bill was about Davis spilling the beans and ridiculing him or holding a grudge, he couldn't stop feeling thankful for his presence at the time.
Thus it was with mixed feelings when he knocked on the door of the room the nurse indicated.
"Come in," came the familiar voice and Bill entered. There were two beds, but both were unoccupied. He swept the room and saw Davis sitting in a chair by the window, a pillow pressed against his side and still looking pale as a ghost.
"Bill?" the man asked, sounding surprised.
"Yeah. Sorry to disappoint, Davis," Bill said a bit snappishly. Charlie seemed to ignore the tone though as a smile appeared on his face. Bill took it as an invitation and hobbled inside the room. He looked around but found that the only chair was occupied by Davis. So he sat down on the bed that clearly didn't have an occupant.
"Not disappointed," Charlie said with a breathy smirk as he squirmed on the chair. "Glad to see you, actually."
Bill just raised an eyebrow in doubt.
"Uh... what's the time?" Charlie asked hopefully and Bill told him, a bit confused at the disappointed look on the man's face.
"What... are you expecting someone?"
Charlie shook his head.
"Nah. Just hoped I could get back to bed."
"I'm not stopping you," Bill said with a snort, looking down and making sure the bed he was sitting on wasn't Charlie's.
"I know," Charlie sighed. "The Doc wants me up and about several times a day. Something about ribs and pneumonia," Charlie waved it off with disgust. It was clear sitting up wasn't the most comfortable for him, but Bill wasn't going to argue with doctor's advice. He shrugged.
"You're still looking better than in the car," he said and smirked when Charlie looked away in embarrassment. Perhaps there was some teasing material right there, Bill thought, but quickly sobered. He could hardly fault the man for fainting from blood loss while hauling his ass to safety and then expect him to keep silent about his own secrets.
There was a moment of awkward silence between them. Bill knew he should speak up, to just... get his shit together, thank the man for saving his ass and leave before the situation turned even more awkward. But he couldn't find the right words. He was never good at showing his appreciation. Or perhaps he never had reason to before.
"Uh... so... how are the others?" Charlie broke the silence and Bill looked at him with confusion.
"Others?"
"Yeah. I heard... Peter and John got hurt too?" The worry was clear on Davis' face and Bill wondered if no one had spoken to the man. But that was hardly the case.
"Thompson is home and Kelly is... doing better. He doesn't remember all that much from the night."
"Lucky man," Charlie muttered under his breath and Bill wondered whether the man was also plagued by nightmares like him. If he should judge by the dark smudges under his eyes he would say yes. But he wouldn't ask.
"And uhm... how are you?"
Bill blinked. Wasn't he supposed to be the one to ask that question? Right, but that would mean he would actually have to open his bloody mouth instead of sitting silently in another man's sick room.
"It's fine," he snapped back then cringed. He was getting annoyed by his own inability to act, but that was hardly an excuse to snap at Davis. "Look, I just came to say I'm..."
He stopped.
Charlie was eyeing him with some level of curiosity, but also weariness. Bill grimaced, looking at the window instead. Damn the man. Did he have to look so bloody... benign?
Bill wasn't sure what he was expecting. Recriminations, anger... derision? Not acceptance, understanding and what... concern?
He shook off that thought and took in a breath then before he could change his mind, he choked out:
"Thanks. That's... uh... that's all."
He chanced a look at Davis.
The man blinked, still kind of curious and a bit confused.
"Uh... okay?" Davis said, a slight frown forming on his forehead. "What... what for?"
Bill let out a huff. Of course he wanted more. It was never enough, just to say thanks it seemed. Not with his father, not with Davis. Bill was starting to feel the growing irritation.
"What, you want a list?" he barked.
Charlie flinched, a look of hurt passing his face and Bill felt instantly bad. Damn, he wanted to show appreciation, not snap at the man.
"Sorry. I'm..." Bill huffed. "This is bloody hard!"
Charlie watched him sheepishly.
"It's alright. I just... wasn't sure. Things are a bit... hazy. Frankly... I'm not sure half the stuff that happened that night was even real. That place..." Charlie shivered then shook his head, his face scrunched up in disgust.
"I'm not sure things were real either," Bill admitted and he hoped to hell that the night had been just a pain induced hallucination. He wasn't sure he could live with the alternative. Those moments he was alone in the shaft, the movement of shadows, the feeling of something reaching for him from down below...
He shuddered.
Pushing the thoughts back with all his will, Bill turned back to Charlie. The man seemed to be paler than before and Bill was starting to worry that this visit would be of more harm than good.
"You okay there Davis? Or should I get the nurse?" he asked, trying not to show too much concern, but also not come off as a total ass.
Davis shook his head.
"Not. It's... fine. I'm fine."
Bill doubted it but who was he to argue. He knew if the tides were turned, he wouldn't ask for help either. Perhaps all the man needed was a moment to get his bearings.
Bill used the time to look around the room. There were some flowers, a half read book from A. C. Doyle on the bedside table, but that was about it. Davis wasn't hooked to anything now but Bill could see the needle marks littering the man's arms, dark bruises against pale skin. He turned his eyes away. Davis was fine. He survived, like always. Though Bill was somehow surprised he wasn't being pampered by a barrage of people. He had a feeling that almost dying would entail at least a visit from his family? But he didn't see any sign of the Davis matriarch having been around.
"Where's your family?" Bill asked out loud somehow offhandedly.
Charlie gazed at him then looked around the room as if someone would pop out from the closet.
"Uh... I'm not sure. The Doc and Jean were there in the morning... and Rose just left. Danny is back in Melbourne..."
"I meant your mother and brothers," Bill said, looking at Charlie as if he was an idiot.
Charlie blinked and blushed.
Bill thought the colour looked much better on him than the ghostlike appearance. Perhaps he could just keep embarrassing the man for his own comfort. Yes, that might work.
"Uh... they couldn't come," Charlie said, looking away.
Bill raised a brow. Since when did Shirley Davis not come when her son was hurt?
"Did you even call them?" he asked, still in slight disbelief. He would've dropped the topic, but he had just come from his mother's grave. Somehow it made him more sensitive, he supposed. Or emotional.
Charlie shook his head.
"It's not like that. Mum wanted to come, but... she had a cold or something."
"So?"
Charlie shrugged.
"Seems like when one loses a spleen, it makes them more susceptible to those," Charlie rattled off, once again looking embarrassed. And Bill understood. He could read Charlie's face like his own in that moment.
Having to come to accept a loss of an organ, however unimportant it was. Almost dying because some idiots decided to rescue another idiot. As if it wasn't enough, now he couldn't even get the comfort from his mother, because it was deemed 'dangerous'. Bill wanted to say he understood, but knew that wouldn't help. Dwelling on it was useless.
"Well, I'm sure Blake and Jean will make up for the absence anyway. At least we will have a few calm days without a murder case."
That startled Charlie right out of his funk as he looked up, glaring.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"As if you didn't notice?" Bill teased.
"What?"
"Every time a Davis or a Beazley come to town, there is a new body. It's getting rather tedious," Bill said with a smirk.
Charlie blinked, ready to protest, but paused. Then he snorted, shaking his head in amusement.
"I would argue... but you're right," he said with a smile.
The mood had eased somehow and Bill thought that was it. Mission mostly accomplished. He had originally planned to breach the subject of their conversation inside the asylum, but now he thought better of it. He was sure Davis hadn't told anything to Anderson. Perhaps the man had already forgotten, too lost in his own experience. It would be useless to stir the water.
Feeling that he had said what he wanted to, Bill reached for his crutches to stand.
"Leaving already?" Charlie asked and there was a look of disappointment on his face.
Bill blinked, taken aback. He didn't think Davis would be so desperate for company as to feel disappointed by his leaving. He felt almost bad for the man. It was against his better judgment, but he said:
"Unless you need something?"
Bill was thinking along the lines of handing him a glass of water or calling the nurse. He didn't expect Davis to perk up and shoot him a hopeful look.
"Actually..." Davis started, pausing. His fingers drummed against the pillow he was holding against his stomach.
"Spill it out," Bill nudged gruffly.
"What's happening at the station?" Charlie blurted out so fast Bill thought he misheard.
"What?"
Charlie huffed and repeated the question, this time slower. It was the same one.
"Don't tell me Lawson hadn't stopped by yet," Bill commented, a bit flabbergasted. He knew their boss could be an asshole, but Davis was his golden boy. After what happened at the asylum, Bill really doubted Lawson would ignore the man all these days. Not unless something seriously pissed him off.
Davis got a strange look on his face. It was a mix of embarrassment and annoyance.
"He did. He stops by every morning, before work," Charlie admitted and Bill raised a brow.
"Then why don't you ask him?"
Charlie shrugged, looking close to pouting.
"He's a bit pissed. Refuses to talk about anything work related. I think he also forbid the Doc or Jean, because they always hedge my questions."
Bill couldn't help it, he laughed.
It was refreshing not to be the one on Lawson's blacklist and seeing the look on Davis' face just made it hundred times better. Oh, how he wished he could've been here when the boss stopped by.
"What the hell did you manage to do to piss him off in a hospital?" He was truly curious.
Davis now just looked annoyed and clearly regretted saying anything.
"Hell if I know," he muttered.
Bill gave him a dubious look and Davis relented.
"He might've asked if I was alright... back at the asylum. I might've... lied."
Bill snorted.
Of course he lied. Who wouldn't have? Not like Lawson could've done much else there... well, perhaps they might've waited a bit longer. Blake and Parks would've arrived and... but that kind of thinking was useless. They could've hardly known what was going to happen.
And for once... Bill was thankful. If Charlie told the truth, Lawson most likely would have left Bill down there until help arrived. And it was surely selfish, but Bill was thankful that he didn't have to spend even a second longer down in that shaft, alone. Even though it might've caused Charlie's state to turn worse... Bill couldn't help it. He was glad he got out.
In lieu of that... telling him something Lawson forbid was a very small price to pay.
"Alright," Bill said with a sigh and let the crutches rest against the bed.
"Alright?" Davis looked him dubiously.
"Yeah," Bill rolled his eyes. "Least I can do I suppose for helping me out."
Davis looked as if he realized the same thing and Bill was half expecting him to recant the request so that he can later come up with something much worse. Of course this was Davis, the guy who could've dropped his ass anytime but didn't.
"Great. So... can you tell me?"
"What exactly?" Bill asked with growing apprehension as he saw the glint in his eyes.
"Everything. Whatever you heard happened while we were gone... or what is going on now."
Bill sighed. Wonderful.
With some nudging from Charlie's part, Bill recounted whatever he heard about the happenings at the station. He also didn't have the whole picture, still unable to get his hands on a succinct report. Though he was sure he would grab one as soon as Lawson let him come to the station.
It seemed that Davis wasn't the only one kept out of the picture for the moment. The one time Bill tried to hobble into the station, he was not so politely kicked out by Lawson. There was a crew fixing up the main office, a couple of coppers working in the smaller office nearby trying to sort out all the case files. There were several officers Bill didn't recognize, most likely help from other towns. He wondered what the downfall from this would be, for Ballarat and for Lawson, but so far he didn't hear of any repercussions from the higher ups. Perhaps word didn't get out, but it was more likely that the capture of the gang members helped out with another operation. He was sure he would find out, as soon as Lawson pulled his head out of his ass and allowed him back on desk duty. According to the man it might be sooner than later. During the last phone call Lawson let it be heard that if Bill wanted to come in so bad, they had a room full of files in need of sorting. Bill had backpedalled fast, deciding that perhaps staying away from the high-strung boss would be a smart thing to do for the next day or two.
"What's going on with my case?" Charlie asked once Bill told him about the state of the office.
"The Sydney office took over. Last I heard they transported all the suspects to Sydney, but I don't have details. Didn't anyone contact you?" Bill found that strange. After all, Davis was the lead detective in the case here in Ballarat. He would've expected at the least someone trying to talk to him about the case.
"I'm sure they tried," Davis said with a grimace. "Doc and Lawson pretty much sent them on their merry way, but that was when I was still... mostly out of it. Dunno why they didn't come back now."
Bill shrugged.
"Most likely they are busy interrogating all those bastards. If they get one of them talking, they stand a pretty good chance of bringing down the whole gang right on their turf. I'm sure that's more important than a stupid hold up here in Ballarat."
"I didn't find it very stupid or unsuccessful," Davis grumbled under his breath then cringed.
"Yeah well. They will stop by when you least expect them I suppose."
Davis couldn't but agree with that. Though Bill wasn't sure if it was his arguments or the fact the man looked ready to drop asleep.
"I swear, if you faint on me again, I won't let you live it down," Bill warned as he reached for his crutches and got up to his feet. He winced as well, his butt had fallen asleep.
Charlie shook his head, blinking.
"I'm fine," he mumbled. Bill would've found it more convincing if he wasn't swaying slightly on the chair.
"You need help getting back to bed?" he asked, though he wasn't sure how he would be able to do that with the crutches.
"No... s' alright. Someone will come in soon," Charlie said and tried for a smile. "Thanks... for stopping by," he said and Bill stood there, feeling a bit lost for words. He gave a short nod.
"No problem. Take care and try not to croak, alright?"
Charlie snorted but gave a nod as well.
Bill hobbled out of the room. It was stupid. He felt as if he was leaving a man behind... even though he was completely safe. It was irrational. Yet Bill couldn't shake it. He looked up and down the corridor. It seemed empty, except for a patient shuffling slowly down towards another room.
Bill growled. Wonderful. As if it wasn't enough that he came and talked to the man. Now he had to go and try to catch some nurse.
With a heavy sigh, Bill headed down the corridor towards the nurse station. He knew he might've been overreacting. Hell, the staff here must've known what to do. Davis was fine and a minute or two alone wouldn't kill him.
Still... Bill knew that look on his face. It was stubbornness. And behind it was the fear of showing weakness.
Bill had done that more than enough in his life to recognize it in others. He saw no reason for Davis having to suffer just for some misplaced sense of pride. He might not want to ask for help but that didn't mean someone else couldn't. And if that someone had to be Bill... well. The day had started with taking care of things. It might as well end that way.
The house was full of life and that was how Blake liked it. Noisy and busy... warm and full of friends and family. That feeling was even more pronounced by the fact the weather outside was dreadful. There were dark clouds and if his hearing wasn't mistaken, it started to rain.
But that didn't seem to bother anyone here. Blake was sitting on the piano chair, facing the room. Danny, Rose and Charlie were lounging on the couch. Danny had arrived two days earlier, to everyone's delight.
Due to several of his men being incapacitated and the station in disarray, Matthew requested some support from nearby stations. Blake wasn't sure whose idea it was, but Danny got somehow roped into it as well. For the next two weeks at least he was stationed back at Ballarat. Lawson seemed rather happy about having someone familiar to command around the station, seeing as both Bill and Charlie were out of the picture.
Right now, Matthew was occupying his favourite chair, holding the newspaper and a glass of whiskey. Blake was pretty sure he wasn't reading, seeing as the paper was open on the same page for the last twenty minutes, but he didn't point it out. Lawson looked like he could use a bit of relaxing. It had been a hard week at the station, and this was the first day the man stayed home. Most of the fires - the literal and figurative as well - were put out with some degree of success. Blake was thinking Matthew was just using the paper as an excuse not to partake in the conversation around him, but he was paying attention, or at least keeping an eye on things.
Blake couldn't stop the small smile touching his lips. However much Lawson tried to portray himself as a bad ass, he did care. Blake could tell by the way the man kept shooting covert glances at Charlie any time the boy as much as winced in discomfort.
Blake understood. Charlie had only been released from the hospital a day earlier and still looked like death warmed over. He was moving slower than usual, way more careful not to move the wrong way or bump into anything. While his colour had improved some, it didn't hide the air of weariness. Blake knew it would pass, that it was mostly caused by his body trying to deal with the trauma and the blood loss. He was also on some antibiotics that were messing with his appetite, but they were necessary to keep him from getting an infection after losing the spleen. Blake was aware of all of that. Still, seeing Charlie in such state was worrisome.
Especially for the people around him who were used to seeing him fit.
Jean worried and puttered around him like a mother hen. Matthew kept shooting him glares, still a bit salty about the fact Charlie didn't admit he was hurt when asked. So whenever he now saw Charlie wince or grimace in pain, Matthew looked as if he expected Charlie to keel over on the spot. Blake knew he would have to talk to him about it, as the hawk eyes and glares were only stressing Charlie out more, but he decided that could wait a day or two longer. Perhaps Charlie would learn to be a bit more... forthcoming next time. And it wasn't like Blake himself wasn't guilty of sending the boy to bed for a nap. He supposed he would stop that once Charlie decided to ignore said suggestions with a look of relief on his face.
For now, he was seemingly taking in all the attention. Especially that coming from Rose.
When Charlie leaned over from the couch, intent on grabbing his glass of water, Rose stepped in. Unfortunately, their hands met just there and successfully knocked the glass over, spilling the water on the table and floor.
For a moment there was stunned silence then Danny's laughter filled the room. Matthew let out a grumbled sigh, turning the page on his newspaper and Blake hid a chuckle.
Rose started apologizing while Charlie was shooting her an amused look.
"You know Rose, if you want to play a nursemaid, my friend can lend you her nurse's uniform," Danny noted with a smirk and Rose's eyes opened wide. Then she grabbed whatever came first under her hand and threw it at Danny's still cackling form. It happened to be a pen.
"You prat!"
Danny dodged, just raising a challenging brow.
"What? I'm sure Charlie would appreciate it... right mate?"
Charlie snorted.
"You can even give him a sponge bath. Seeing as you already got him wet," Danny added with a smirk then fled the room. Rose was still spluttering, her cheeks suddenly red as she looked at Charlie and noticed there was a wet patch on his knee.
"Uh... sorry. I'll just... go and grab a towel," she said, glancing at Lawson and Blake. They both pretended not to be paying attention so she quickly left the room. Shortly after, they could hear Danny yelp, followed by a satisfied chuckle.
Lawson lowered the newspaper and cast a hard look at Charlie, who was currently trying to stop the water from spilling over the table's edge using his hand as a barrier.
"Do I have to worry about adding the Davis gene pool into our family tree?" Lawson asked out of the blue, tone all serious.
Charlie coughed, looking startled.
"Uh... maybe I should just go... grab another glass," he stuttered and albeit a bit stiffly, got up from the couch. Blake followed him with his eyes, glad when he saw Charlie was steady on his feet. He waited until he vanished in the corridor then turned to Lawson.
"Was that necessary?"
Lawson merely raised a brow and took a sip from his glass.
"No. But it was amusing."
Blake shook his head.
"How long are you going to be pissed about Charlie not coming forth? You know, he most likely didn't know it was more than a broken a rib," Blake tried to defend his tenant.
"Oh, I know that. But I think he'll handle my annoyance better than worry, so that's what he gets. At least until I get bored with it," Lawson added with a smirk.
There was a knock on the door. Blake looked at Lawson.
"Expecting someone?" As far as he knew, they were all present. Alice was chatting with Jean in the kitchen while the food finished cooking.
"Actually... yes. Can you get it? My leg is acting up again," Lawson said, though it was clear he was fibbing. He was as bad as any of his men with admitting weakness. Blake rolled his eyes and got up.
"I can always start you back on some of those exercises you enjoyed so much last year," Blake teased him but Lawson had already raised the paper, covering his face.
Blake walked to the front door, shaking his head upon hearing laughter and joking coming from the kitchen. It seemed that Rose and Danny had made up, or at least they had forgotten about the spilled water.
As he opened the door, Blake came to the conclusion that it wouldn't be the only puddle on the floor that day.
In front of him stood Bill, partially drenched and looking as if he wasn't really sure why he was there.
Blake blinked, looking behind Bill as if expecting to see a car. There was none, only the rain softly pounding onto the dirt.
"You walked here?" Blake blurted out and Hobart grimaced, trying to ease some weight from the crutches. Blake shook his head and ushered him inside.
"I used the bus."
"In the rain?"
"It wasn't raining when I got on," Bill grumbled, shaking off the rain from his coat. Blake looked down at the cast but it didn't seem damaged by the water, albeit it was a bit muddy.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were coming. I could've picked you up."
Bill shrugged.
"The Boss called. I haven't decided right away."
"Ah," Blake nodded with a smile. "Boredom got the better of you, aye? Well, I'm glad you're here! The more the merrier, right?"
Bill grunted something as Blake pointed him towards the living room. "Why don't you settle down? I'll bring you a towel to dry off and tell Jean to put out one more plate."
Bill looked sheepish but Blake didn't give him a chance to say anything. The man was here and he was not going to let him walk out back in the rain. If it meant having some awkward conversation or silence during dinner, so be it.
In the end he didn't have to worry about any of that. The dinner was a success, if he would say so himself. True, the conversation turned a bit sombre when Danny mentioned the asylum and Alice started talking about its history. Blake wasn't sure if anyone else noticed the look of discomfort Bill and Charlie shared over the table. When Alice mentioned several deaths connected to the place and Bill looked as if he suddenly lost his appetite, Charlie spoke up.
"Uh, I was wondering, Boss," he said, turning to Lawson.
"Hm?" Lawson looked up from his plate.
"That voice we heard... the boy?"
"It was a recording, Charlie," Lawson said with a slight frown. Charlie nodded.
"Yes, I know. But... how did it get there?"
Lawson finished up the last bite, put down the fork and knife and leaned back in his chair.
"Ernie knew someone would arrive. He was already in the building, waiting. As soon as he saw the cars, he turned the recording on and got out."
Charlie frowned.
"But how did he get in and out? That recording was upstairs. If he came down those stairs, how comes they didn't fall with him? Or that we didn't see him coming out?"
Lawson shrugged.
"He didn't use them."
"How the hell did he get up then? Fly?" Bill asked with a snort, clearly annoyed and perturbed by the whole thing.
"He climbed up a rope ladder."
There was a moment of stunned silence then an amused snort. Everyone shot a look at Danny, who raised his hand in apology as he reached for a napkin.
"Sorry but... that's classic."
"What are you on about, Parks?" Bill grunted.
Danny shrugged.
"Hey, don't bark at me. Just saying. I know Ernie and his friends tended to hold... parties in some abandoned buildings. Usually, they used one of the younger kids to crawl through the place as they were lighter and ran less of a risk of falling through some rotten floorboards. If the place looked alright, the kid would secure the ladder so they had easy access and a way out if cops showed up. I bet they used that place for some binger parties."
Bill looked disgusted while Charlie looked confused.
"How could anyone enjoy spending a night there?" he asked, voicing his thoughts.
Danny shrugged.
"The upstairs was mostly used as quarters for the less violent patients and staff," Alice jumped in helpfully. "They probably found it more... enjoyable than what you were facing."
Charlie still seemed doubtful about such possibility.
"Well... I sure as hell hope someone got rid of that ladder. I for one am not going there for another call anytime soon," he grumbled.
"I very much doubt that would be necessary Charlie, don't worry," Lawson said and there was a hint of satisfaction in his voice. If not that, the smirk was a dead giveaway that he accomplished something he found satisfying.
"Well, are you going to share with the class? Or are we supposed to guess?" Jean asked with a raised brow and a twitching lip.
Blake thought Lawson might want to play the guessing game, but then Jean was holding the dessert hostage and he changed his mind.
"I pestered a few people from the mayor's office. They will make sure the place is boarded up properly this time so that there are no more accidents."
"Cheers to that," Bill raised his glass and everyone joined in.
The rest of the dinner went smoothly, even Bill seemed to be enjoying himself. They moved it back into the living room, turning on some music on the gramophone. The conversation was flowing and Blake was enjoying the relaxed atmosphere. He went to pour himself another glass and Matthew joined him by the bar table, holding out his empty tumbler.
There was a snort of laughter and they both looked towards the couch. Charlie and Rose were huddled together; Danny was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch. Bill had settled himself on Blake's chair and Jean with Alice were sitting on the low seats opposite. Alice was attempting to teach them some sort of card game neither of them ever heard of. Jean was looking at her cards, biting down on her bottom lip, trying to figure out her next move, while Rose whispered something conspiratorially into Charlie's ear. He chuckled and nudged Danny, giving him a signal. He also winked at Bill, who gave a barely perceptible nod and threw out a card that made Jean groan in dismay.
Both Lawson and Blake watched the show with amusement.
"God save us all if they are the future of Ballarat," Lawson noted, watching Charlie grab his side with a grimace because he was laughing so hard at whatever Rose kept commenting.
"No, God save all the bad guys that decide to visit this town," Blake said with a smirk. Lawson snorted and laughed, gaining the attention from the table. He ignored the curious looks though. Instead, he clinked his glass with Blake's and raised it to his lips.
"To the younger generation then," he said.
"Cheers to that," Blake agreed with a smile. Looking at the wayward group of people in his living room, he thought that indeed, the town was in good hands. And he was one lucky man to be a part of it.
THE END