The Lost Letter

[TelephotoMarigold]

Liz checked the address on the slip of paper for what seemed like the 100th time. The writing never changed so she had no idea why she was expecting it to read something different each time she looked at it. Her son had refused to leave the Caraven Park, which wasn't much of a problem as he seemed to have made friends with the boy called Ollie. Although nervous about leaving him there Kirsty had promised to keep an eye on the boys, and there was something that she trusted in the other woman immediately.

She smothed her hands on her trouser covered legs and nervously tugged on the T-Shirt she was wearing. She had showered and changed before coming here but still felt somewhat travel rumpled. She had travelled around for most of her adult life and loved seeing all the new destinations and different cultures, suddenly aware that her thoughts were difting away from the task at hand she walked purposely towards the door and raised her hand to knock on it. A momentary pause left her hand a fraction away from the door, before she took a deep breath and knocked.

She waited in reality what was only a moment but felt like a lifetime before knocking again. Now she felt her heart racing in her chest. Her head was pounding. Thoughts were racing back and forth. She exhaled, and only then realised she had been holding her breath. She knocked for a third time and still there was no response. Walking back to the car she noted that she was disappointed. A quick search in the glove compartment came up with a notebook but no pen, which left the easy option of just dropping a note through the door unlikely. She would have to come back later, and that thought put a pensive smile on her face.

[TelephotoMarigold]

Roman walked slowly to the door. He had been sitting too long and his body felt stiff from lack of exercise. He opened the door with half a mind still on the lyrics from the last song he had heard, before the knocking at the door had penetrated the fog of depression that was surrounding him.

"Oh my God!" Aden exclaimed. "How do you do that?"

"Mate!" Roman said in surprise. "Do what?" he asked curiously.

"Well you answered the door before I even got a chance to knock on it!" Aden explained.

Roman stood back and let Aden, Belle and the two children inside.

"I'd love to take credit for some spooky SAS type thing but the truth is I heard a knock at the door when I out back listening to my Ipod. You just happened to be standing there." Roman smiled and not for the first time enveloped Aden in a hug, patting Aden on his back in the ages old macho way of hugging. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Well the bush telegraph let us know you were sick and we decided to come and see for ourselves if it were true?" Aden smiled at the other man.

Closing the door Roman turned and walked into the kitchen.

"This bush telegraph wouldn't have happened to be named Miles would it?"

"As a journalist I have to tell you that I cannot reveal our sources!" Belle said softly.

Roman smiled as he busied himself getting them all drinks. He poured himself another cup of strong black coffee and tried not to look at the tremor in his hand as he held the pot from his current caffeine overdose.

"Where are you guys staying?" he asked them.

"At the caravan park." Belle told him. "We thought that choosing somewhere neutral would stop you and Irene from fighting over us!" she laughed.

"Hey, that's cool; but you should know that at the moment Irene isn't talking to me."

Aden looked up with a speculative gleam in his eye.

"Would that have anything to do with Martha being pregnant?"

"Gotta hand it to that Bush Telegraph!" Roman said with a chuckle.

"No," Aden said "That one is down to the fact we stopped at the Diner on the way in and saw Colleen!"

"Well not even the Bush Telegraph can beat the speed of Colleen." Belle said softly with a laugh.

The conversation moved on and it was quite a while before Belle and Aden collected up their kids and bade Roman a quick goodbye. Seeing Aden again had put him in a better frame of mind.

He paused on his way to the kitchen, quickly turning around to make his way upstairs. He knew he couldn't go for a run but if he didn't get stretch his legs and get out of the house he would go stir crazy. He pulled on his favourite and well-worn trainers and grabbed house keys and a bottle of water and headed out.

[TelephotoMarigold]

Chapter 12

Roman walked slowly up the hill, towards the lookout. It was the best veiw in Summer Bay and just what he needed to clear his head. He was talking it extra slow because quite frankly he couldn't go at any other pace! He reached the top and had to stop to catch his breath. He hated this. The feeling of being unfit somehow unready! He could only imagine the ribbing he would get if any of his former mates saw him now. Almost collapsing on the bench seat he looked out on the view across the headland. The sky was pure blue with no clouds in sight, the sun a glowing orb of yellow, high in the sky. He watched as an errant seagull flew about. Taking a swig of water from the bottle he had brought with him he watched the birds' flight thinking about how free the bird looked soaring through the sky. He remembered back to a time in the Iraq desert watching a similar bird swoop through the sky.

Roman shaded his eyes against the glare and knelt down in the sand. Ahead of him were the three english SAS that had been asigned to his team. He couldn't help but admiore the way they moved as one without seeming Verbal communication. Although it was similar within his own team, the addition of two new members, Micheal and Gardy had thrown the balance out slightly. He still had reservations about Gardy. Just something he couldn't put his finger on.

The English guys had been here before. They were here to pinpoint members of Sadam's Imperial Guard, alegedly hiding out amongst the nomad tribe they were tracking. If true; they were to capture them, by whatever means necessary and deliver them to the American contingent based twenty klicks away in Al Su - Dena. He motioned for the men to stop and jogged to where Simon, Jake and Thomas, the three english guys were croached. They were looking at the stretch of sand in front of them.

"Land mines." one of them told him.

Roman took a small step forward, making sure that it was safe and knelt quickly. He eased his knife out of his combats and probed the area directly in front of him and then to the left and finally the right of him. He worked out how far apart the landmines were spread and uttered a quick curse word.

He turned back to the others and motioned for his men to join them. Spreading out the map in front of them he looked for an alternative route.

"Stuff the mines! We can go throught them" Gardy said loudly, after Roman had explained what the situation was.

Roman looked up sharply, the urge to thump the other man not far from his thoughts.

"Stand Down." he ordered softly.

Roman pointed out the alternate route. He glanced at the english men checking they were ok with this.

"We'll have to pick up the pace a little." one of them said.

"Lets do it."

Gardy cursed under his breath.

Roman glanced sharply at him.

"We better go." he said, once again his tone was soft but there was a hint of iron under the words.

The men moved out.

Roman looked into the sky and saw in the distance a lone eagle flying under the hot sun.

Coming slowly back to the present he looked once more at the lone seagull. For a second he could have sworn it was an eagle.

[TelephotoMarigold]

WARNING EXTREME CONTENT

Roman took a long drink from the water bottle as he continued to watch the seagull fly overhead. He thought back once again to the sight of the lone eagle over the hot desert sands. In standard SAS training he had completed gruelling exercises in hot desert climes as well as jungle terrain. He could climb a mountain with no guide rope, just his bare hands. He could disarm most assailants but what he could not control were his memories.

His thoughts drifted back. SAS candidates were required to swim in both warm and cold conditions to the point of extreme fatigue, run 14.4km in 90 min, run 32km in 5 hrs, in either a group or an individual task.

There was one gruelling exercise where they’d had to run a 10km race to a specified location where a truck awaited them. On reaching the sight the truck would take off without them and they would be told they would have to do another 10km run. He remembered starting out on the next part of the run, only to find the truck waiting for them just a klick away. Three guys had dropped out during that one exercise and he'd been so exhausted himself that he'd thrown up at the side of the road! Good old days, he thought with just a hint of sarcasm mixed with the nostalgia. When he’d first joined the army he'd been assigned to the 41st Battalion, The Royal New South Wales Regiment, he’d received his commission and went on to become a Second Lieutenant before embarking on his training with the Special Forces.

"Gardy, for the last time shut up. Just think about how long it would have taken us to clear the land mines?!" Roman exclaimed in anger as once again Private Gardener also known as Gardy began moaning. When he got back to base camp Roman swore he was going pull the other mans' jacket and find out just who he was dealing with, for one thing he suspected the "Private" rank was a new one and the man had been downgraded.

"Sorry Sir!" Gardy muttered. Although Roman suspected it was somewhat sarcastic he accepted the apology for what it was.

"Right I want you three to clear the house over there. No firing this has to be down quiet and no casualties. I repeat no casualties. We are in a civilian zone. These people are listed as non-combatant." Roman paused and looked in the eyes of the three men he had chosen and then round the rest of the group. "Is that understood?" he questioned them, his voice like steal.

"Yes Sir!" came a chorus of responses.

"Good." Roman said. He found his eyes straying back to Gardy's. There was something in the other mans face he didn't like. Nothing he could put his finger on though. Roman outlined the rest of the plan and with a quick synchronisation of their watches they set up the attack.

To this day he still did not know what exactly went wrong. The houses were cleared with the villagers rounded up the villages meeting hall. They awaited the arrival of the "feudal landlord" of the village, the man they were after for committing war crimes under Sadam's regime. Nothing should have gone wrong but it did.

He got his men out. One of the English officers had been wounded and he had gone back to get him, although Gardy had been closer. Dragging the man to safety he caught a shot to his leg and was captured. What followed was brutal.

To ensure that American, English, or any of the other forces did not attack them they moved camp every few days. A doctor did not see him and his leg became infected. He was tortured, but since he knew very little anyway, he couldn't tell them anything they wanted to know. Not that he talked, tempted though he was by the forth or fifth day.

Then it came to the last location. Air strikes at the previous one had forced them to move. It was in the basement of one of Sadam's special police stations that he was held. He was stripped down to his undershorts. His body was covered in sweat and blood. Bruises covered his torso and face. He suspected that his nose had been broken along with one cheekbone. He grimaced at the pain; then grimaced at the pain the grimace caused. A wry smile crossed his face.

His arms ached. He was strung up to an iron bar connected to the ceiling. He could just about touch the tips of his toes to the floor, which did little to ease the ache in his shoulders. He suspected that the prisoners held here were slightly shorter than him. He felt as though his arms were on fire, yeah, but the pain in his shoulders was worse. He tried to rotate them to ease the pain, but it wasn't any use.

They had stopped wearing masks when they came to him, which he knew was a bad sign. He suspected that unless he did something drastic he wouldn't make it out of here. With that thought he heard them coming for him again. He wondered what he could tell them today. Yesterday he had graced them with the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet. A play he'd had to perform in high school because of his name! He'd even used a falsetto voice for the Juliet lines. At that point they had broken his cheekbone. So much for his acting skills, they obviously weren't impressed!

"Do you expect me to talk?" he asked in his best Sean Connery accent." No, I expect you to die Mr Bond!" he groaned at the silly quote that went through his head. So not funny at this moment in time. He wracked his spaghetti mind for something else just as the cell door opened. It was his all time favourite torturers, Pinky, Curly and Mo! as he'd christened them.

Pinky was clearly in charge as he was the one who would sit and watch. Mo was the hatchet man and Curly the questioner. Curly being the one who could speak English anyways.

"How are you today?" Curly asked.

Obviously his mother taught him to be a polite little torturer.

"Not so bad, much better now you are here to keep me company." Roman muttered.

The sarcasm went over their heads.

The first blow was to his stomach.

"Perhaps you should tell us what we want to know so that this will not be so bad!" Curly suggested.

"Never!" Roman muttered.

He willed his mind to go somewhere else. Away from this room. From this pain.

More questions were asked.

Eventually he screamed.

"Alright....!" he said. "We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans," he began. Long forgotten words from a famous speech drifted up, dragged from his subconscious.

They looked at him in consternation. Curly had to take the time to translate to Pinky.

Roman wondered what Churchills speech sounded like in Arabic.

"we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches,

we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this Island or a large part of it were subjugated and starving, then our Empire beyond the seas, armed and guarded by the British Fleet, would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, the New World, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old." he continued, his voice taking on the deeper timbres of Churchill.

suddenly he had a craving for a cigar. A big one. A big fat Cuban cigar, It was strange because he didn't actually smoke. Jus5t you try doing a 5km run after smoking a cigarette let alone a big fat cigar, you'd soon be puking your guts up. He frowned at the unpleasant nature of his thoughts then began to laugh. He was being tortured for Gawd's sake and he was thinking about the downside of smoking cigars! He didn't remember any of this from his training, he'd have to write a letter of complaint. Extreme Torture leads to hysteria.

He came back to the present with a jolt to find that the three members of Sadam's guard were arguing amongst themselves. After a while of listening to them he whistled loudly to get their attention.

"Do you think I could get a bit more torture here and less talk?" he asked. "If I wanted to listen to arguing all day I would have stayed home with my parents!"

The one he christened Curly burst out laughing. He turned to the other two and translated the comment.

Roman watched as both Curly and Pinky left the room. This left only Mo. Not a good sign.

As the first blows rained down on him he felt the tug in his arms. Casting a sly glance upwards he noticed that the bar he was tied to had started to become loose from its moorings.

"Is that all you've got?" he taunted in a loud voice, his Austrailian accent defining the taunt.

With a cry like a wounded bull Mo charged at him. His body contacted with Roman's and the pull on the bar pulled it loose on one side. He lifted his legs from the floor and let his full weight balance from it. The bar came completely away from its moorings with a sharp crack.

Mo looked upwards at the wrong moment. A cascade of dust from the ceiling rained down into his eyes. He fell back blinded.

Roman grabbed hold of the bar and swung it like a bat at the other man. The first blows were to stun the other man, while Roman gained strength and circulation back in his limbs. The other man staggered and fell to his knees. With two more blows; Mo fell to the floor unconscious. Pulling off the ropes from his wrists he used them to tie up the other man.

Checking him for anything of use, Roman pocketed a set of keys and a hunting knife and a bar of chocolate. It was nice to know that your common garden henchman had a sweet tooth he thought with irony. He took a bite of a couple of chunks while looking in the hallway for signs of others.

The only problem now was that he had to take on at least a dozen bad guys when he was only wearing his skivvies. Something else to add to the training manual!

He opened the door and walked slowly into the corridor. He was pretty good with throwing a knife and only hoped he would be quick enough if faced with a gun. He padded quietly down the corridor, his bare feet silent on the cold tiles. There were three doors ahead of him but before he could select which one to choose he heard voices behind him. He pulled open the door nearest him and stepped inside the room. He pushed the door silently closed and lent against the panels whilst he heard the men walk past. Luck was on his side as the room was empty. Better than that there was a small window so he could see outside.

Pressing his ear against the door he listened for signs of anyone approaching. Hearing nothing he pulled up a desk in front of the door. It wouldn't provide a lot of protection but maybe it would give him long enough to think of something else while they forced their way in.

Looking around the room he found a first aid kit. He used a bottle of antiseptic to clean up some of his cuts. Opening a bottle of medicinal alcohol he poured it on his leg wound before finding a large bandage and fastened it around his leg. He told himself that felt better but he wasn't convinced! He also found a shirt and a pair of trousers. Neither of them was in his size, the trousers too large but he adapted them to fit, using another length of bandage as a belt and also a makeshift scabbard for the 8-inch hunting knife. He'd also cut off the sleeves of the oversized shirt and used the micropore from the medical kit to make some makeshift covering for his feet.

Satisfied that he could do no more preparation he eased open the window. It was dark outside. He could see that they were in a village but there was no other sign of life on the street. He pulled himself up and out of the window with a groan.

Running quietly and quickly down the street he took advantage of the topography to get as much cover as possible. His body was sending signals of serious disapproval to his brain, which he ignored. He continued to the outskirts of the village and crouched down to look around. He could see the road up ahead heading north. He didn't know where he was or what his best chance of survival was. If he made a wrong choice then he wouls be caught in the desert under the hot sun with no water while on the other hand the other choice was to go back to his tormentors. When it came down to it there was not choice; the desert won.

He set off on the road, hoping to use the chill of the night to his advantage and get as far as he could. He had gone no further than a klick when he heard the strains of someone whistling "waltzing matilda". Fearing he was hallucinating he stopped and dropped down to one knee, mindful of his injured leg.

"Won't ya come a waltzing with me" he heard. "Could you be our missing Aussie?"

The clipped tones seemed to come out of the darkness.

"I might be!" Roman said softly. He was hallucinating, he thought, a dark shape approached him, followed by another one. Roman rubbed his eyes.

"Hello, old chap!" came the clipped tones. "English SAS at your service. We heard about what you did for one of our chaps and thought we would come and say hello!"

The other man was scanning the way that Roman had come for signs he had been followed.

"Can you walk?" he was asked.

All Roman could do was nod weakly. This was a good hallucination he thought. Any moment now he would wake up back in the torture room. Perhaps he should think of some poetry to recite or something.

"That's great!" he heard. "If we could get you to our LZ a mile or so along the way we can get you out of here quicker than you can say 'fosters'."

Roman went along behind them. Four more shapes suddenly morphed out of the darkness. and took up positions in the rear covering thier progress.

It took some time to get to the helicopter but once he was aboard he asked if any of them had a cigerette.

Coming sharply back to the present he realised that he had been sitting there lost in the past for hours.

[TelephotoMarigold]

Roman finished the bottle of water and threw the bottle in the rubbish bin nearby. He stretched before setting off back home. Once again his thoughts drifted back to Iraq and Afghanistan and East Timor and the other half a dozen places. He remembered the training exercise with his English counterparts in Herefordshire as a result from the mission in Iraq. God, was England ever cold and it didn't seem to stop raining, not to mention the Beer was warm. But they'd given him an honorary commission in the UK forces.

He paused noting for the first time the stitch in his side. His breathing was rapid and he felt a trickle of sweat down his back. He longed for his level of fitness that had accompanied him whilst he was a serving member of the forces. He stopped at the side of the road and sat on the grassy verge. When did he become such a wimp, he asked himself. After five or ten minutes he dragged himself to his feet. The road was smooth and downhill. With the phrase 'No pain no Gain' in his head he took a few deep breaths and stretched his legs, warming up the powerful muscles. Then he began to run. Not a mild jog, which might have been far more sensible but a full out pounding the road run.

It hurt. He could feel his side, with the damaged ribs protest violently and his lungs felt as though they were on fire but soon he fell into rhythm pushing his body into the pace of the run. His feet hit the road and despite the pain, despite the hot air burning his lungs it felt good. He ran all the way to his house, his memories from those years chasing him all the way home.

[TelephotoMarigold]

Chapter 13

Liz tried her best. She really did. But here she was. Counting to ten. Counting to ten slowly. Again.

"Ok, I've had it with your attitude. You can get your backside in the car in the next five minutes or I'll leave you behind." She said calmly, her tone even. despite the fact she was furious.

She walked round the black Jeep and climbed in behind the wheel. Putting the keys in the ignition she waited until her son reluctantly and sulkily joined her. She had no idea why he was so angry when he had been the one to smash her camera. Ok, it wasn't her favourite camera but it was a good one she'd owned for years. She wasn't even sure she could get any prints of the memory card and she'd taken a number of shots from the lookout on the way into Summer Bay.

Pulling out of the Caravan Park she turned to her sulking passenger and asked calmly. "Are you planning to keep this up for much longer?"

"What?" came the terse response.

"Well the attitude for a start, the general untidiness, the breaking of things, treating me like I'm not your mother!" once she'd started the list she found she couldn't stop.

He turned and looked at her.

"The camera was an accident!" he muttered defensively, ignoring all the other charges against him.

"Do you believe I will accept that when you say it like that?" she asked softly.

"Like what?! I didn't do nuffink!" he muttered under his breath. She only just managed to catch it.

He leaned forward and turned on the radio, turning the volume up.

Using the controls built into the steering wheel she turned it off.

He folded his arms across his chest and turned to stare out of the passenger side window.

"Like I'm going to go away!" she muttered. "You and I are due for a talk, young man!" she warned him.

"You always go away!" he said angrily, his voice raised dramatically.

"And you enjoy the things that my work buys you. You enjoy the boarding school you chose to go to. You enjoy the laptop and the Ipod and the games consoles and the bike and surfboard. If I didn't go away from time to time then you wouldn't have what my work has provided." She glanced at his profile, he was so stubborn, just like his father she thought again for like the thousandth time, before concentrating again on the road in front of her. "I admit that things were different when your Nan was around to take care of you. I did go away quite often but now she has gone I try to only go away during your term time so that when you aren't at school we spend the time together." she finished raggedly.

He always knew how to turn things around and make her feel guilty.

They pulled up outside the Diner and got out of the car. He remained quiet and for once she didn't try to fill it with some meaningless chatter to ease the tension. Once inside they sat at a table near the rear door.

She looked at the menu and decided on the veggie burger and salad with diet cola. She didn't fuss about what her petulant child would have. He was old enough to speak for himself apparently, she thought with just a touch of wry humour.

The waitress came over, large bustling woman who introduced herself as Colleen. She gave her order and handed the menu over to her son. He didn't so much as look at her or the proffered menu as he ordered his meal. They continued to sit in silence until their meal arrived.

"Now then young man, here is your burger!" Colleen murmured politely.

Liz looked at her son and waited for him to say thank-you, she had brought him up to respect his elders and also to be polite.

"Yes well..." Colleen said after a moment. "Here is your burger."

"Thank you." Liz said pointedly. "It looks lovely."

She glared at her son, still waiting for him to acknowledge the arrival of the meal. He took a defiant look at her and reached for his burger, taking a large bite. She sighed at his lack of manners but decided that it wasn't the right thing to push him on.

They ate in silence. The tension between them was palpable and quickly noticed by the beady-eyed Colleen. She'd been to check on them twice and received monosyllabic answers from her son even when she'd asked him direct questions.

Liz had ordered herself a piece of chocolate cake, she needed something to cheer her up and imagined the extra energy would be needed to deal with her son tonight. Colleen brought over the cake for herself and a chocolate milkshake.

"Here you go, and I thought the young one could do with this!" she placed the milkshake in front of him. "On the house!" she said at Liz's enquiring look.

"Thank you." Liz said, now glaring at her son as if a look could get him to do something!

He mumbled something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch but suspected wasn't the 'Thank-you!' it was supposed to be. She tried to count to ten to calm herself down, but with all the stunts he'd pulled she found his deliberate rudeness was the last straw.

"Roman Michael Addison you show some manners before I smack some into you!" she shouted.

He jumped up from his seat.

"Don't call me that!" he exclaimed.

She took a breath and said in a tone of voice that would brook no argument.

"Your name is Roman Michael Addison, you were named for your father and if I want to call you by that name I will. I have given you time and space to deal with your issues but I am really fed up with your stunts and your attitude. Enough is enough."

Colleen stood in shocked silence as did Aden and Belle who had walked into the Diner and heard everything. Even Leah had walked out of the kitchen when she heard the explosive declaration.

[TelephotoMarigold]

Chapter 14

Roman stood panting in the kitchen of his house, he was leaning over the sink feeling like any second he was going to hurl. The run had worn him out but also it made him feel more alive than he had done for a long time.

Miles watched him waiting for the right moment to speak to him. Nicole had persuaded him that he was the right person to tell Roman about the, well the other Roman. The funny thing was he still didn't know exactly how it had happened. One minute they had talked about Roman's right to know and the next he seemed to have been nominated as the person to do it.

"I can't believe you thought you were in any condition to go for a run!" Miles exclaimed.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time." Roman said breathlessly.

"You look like you want to throw up!" Miles said with a half-smile on his face.

"Did I ever mention that the SAS train you to kill in unarmed combat 27 different ways, including using just your thumb!" Roman said softly.

Miles walked over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer for himself and water for Roman.

"Thanks!" Roman said and walked over to the kitchen table and sank down into a chair. He was still breathless. He pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and laid it on the table in front of him. He opened the bottle of water and took a long drink.

"I would advise you against making a phone call right now you don't want to be accused of being a heavy breather do you?" Miles laughed, somewhat nervously.

After he and Nicole had talked this afternoon he had somehow gotten the task of telling Roman about, well about the other Roman. He still didn't know how it had happened, one minute he had taken a sip of his coffee and the next Nicole was looking at him with her big blue eyes and well here he was.

"So are you going to grass me up to Rachel?" Roman was asking.

Miles shook his head as he took a big swig of his beer.

"Trust me mate what Rachel doesn't know won't get us into trouble!" Miles said.

They looked at each other and laughed.

"There was something I was planning on talking to you about!" Miles began, hoping that this would be somehow be easy.

“Sounds serious! Can it wait until I've had a shower I need to freshen up?" Roman asked.

Miles took a second to think about it. He could bravely just tell him now or wait and maybe Nicole would come home expecting Miles to have told him and accidentally blurt it out! Now that sounded like a plan. A very unlikely plan. A 1 in 1 million chance of it happening plan but a plan!

"Sure!" Miles said with a smile on his face.

Roman drained the rest of the water and stood up slowly. He turned and made his way upstairs.

Miles breathed a sigh of relief and drank the rest of the beer. He made his way to the fridge and helped himself to another one and then another one. He felt in need of a bit of Dutch courage so grabbed another two or was it three out of the fridge and walked slowly and carefully into the lounge. After finishing his fifth bottle he sank down onto one of the sofas and laid his head back against the cushions. Roman found him like that a half and hour later. He pulled a blanket over his sleeping friend wondering about what was so bad his mate had drunk eight bottle of beer in under thirty minutes.

[TelephotoMarigold]

Miles woke up slowly. The room was in darkness aside from the flickering light Miles woke up slowly. The room was in darkness aside from the flickering light reflected from the Television. He looked around in puzzlement before realising that he wasn't in his home. He pushed the blanket down and eased himself into a sitting position.

"Hello there!" Roman said softly.

"Oh my god!" Miles exclaimed jumping out of his skin for like the millionth time. "Will you stop doing that?" he muttered.

His tongue felt as though it was made of sandpaper.

"Mate!" Roman laughed. " How are you feeling?"

"I don't know." Miles said softly and carefully. His head seemed to be throbbing. He didn't think it was all the beer he'd drunk earlier but suspected that it was the three or was it four glasses of whisky that he'd drunk for Dutch courage before coming over.

"Anyway shouldn't I ask you that question? And why is there no sound on the TV is it broken?"

"I'm fine. I actually feel better for the run. I've been doing some thinking and I've decided that Ella is part of my past and that is where she should stay. " he looked at his friends face in the quasi darkness. " Since you were asleep I thought I would leave the sound off."

Miles tried to assimilate all the information that came across in those few sentences and came up with "Yes, but how do you follow the plot?"

Roman asked.

"I'm a superspy remember. I can read lips. And don't tell anyone that."

"Or you'll be forced to kill me?" Miles muttered.

"No! I just don't want Colleen to know, she tends to mutter some interesting things under her breath when you don't expect it."

The two men laughed.

Roman stood and stretched before heading into the kitchen. He made a fresh pot of coffee whilst Miles was upstairs in the bathroom freshening up. He took it through to the lounge and waited until Miles came downstairs before pouring the coffee.

"So tell me why you've decided not to find Ella?" Miles asked. The information finally sinking into his tired and hung over brain.

"Because it would just open a lot of wounds, for both of us, I think."

Roman had left the kitchen light on, and for a second, for a weird unreal second, it looked as though he had a halo. Miles blinked and it went away. He really had to stop drinking.

"But aren't you interested in what that letter had to say?" Miles probed recklessly.

"Mate!" Roman sipped his coffee.

He had a sudden flashback of drinking coffee with Ella. They were in a dusty khaki coloured tent. The coffee was black and bitter tasting and in a chipped china mug. He was wearing a vest top and shorts his legs folded in front of him. Ella was laughing at him as they shared the coffee. She was wearing his uniform shirt, the tails tied across her flat belly, and a pair of ridicules board shorts she swore belonged to her brother.

He shook his head as if to wipe the memory and focused back on the conversation.

"Why don't you tell me why you were drinking instead?" Roman said in an attempt to turn the conversation away from him.

"Well its like this." Miles began and promptly shut up.

If Roman were serious about not wanted to drag up the past then who was he to mention the existence of the other Roman. It would only lead to Roman - number 1- getting himself worked up again. There were just too many Romans.

He took a sip of his coffee.

"Kirsty and I had a fight." he lied. He was glad it was dark because he could feel his face grow hot.

"How about I ditch this coffee and get out the whisky?" Roman asked softly.

Miles sat back on the sofa and crossed one leg over the other, with his ankle resting on his knee. He had a choice he could stay and have a drink or he could go home to Kirsty. He looked at his watch and saw that it was after midnight. Yup, that argument excuse would be coming true sooner that he thought.

"Fetch the bottle." Miles instructed.

Roman took away the coffee things and returned moments later with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and two glasses.

Miles looked at his watch again and noted that it was now four am. He couldn't remember what happened. Roman lay asleep on the floor next to him and disturbingly he appeared to only be wearing his boxers. Miles looked down and saw that he was also in his undies. A pack of cards lay scattered around them. He had a vague remembrance of playing poker and losing. He tried to move but the room continued to spin. He lifted his chin onto the tabletop and saw a bottle of something that was red. He tried to read the label but the letters kept moving. He nudged Roman until the other man woke up.

"I have to tell you there are two Romans." he said. "Ssssssshhhhhhh! its a secret."

Roman laughed.

"Don't worry I won't tell anyone." Roman said softly.

"No, you don't understand. There are two Romans. That’s why I came here! Nicole knows." Miles said again. He thought he was whispering.

"Miles you told me like twenty times." Roman tried to calm the other man.

"Why aren't you and Thunk as I am?" Miles said. "and why is my arm really painful?"

"Well after I beat you at strip poker you wanted to arm wrestle me." Roman explained.

"Oh my god! Did we get naked?" Miles asked

"No, you refused to take off your boxers." Roman spoke slowly and clearly.

"Thank god for that!" Miles exclaimed.

"That’s what you think mate!" Roman chuckled. "You were wearing them on your head at the time!"

Miles groaned.

"Well you should go and find Roman because he looks like you and what the heck is this red stuff?"

Roman picked up the bottle and peered at the label.

"I think it's from Italy." he said. He poured some in a glass for himself and Miles then added a generous dash of lemonade to it. The drink fizzed and Roman downed it in one.

Miles looked at it in disgust.

"Isn't there anything else to drink?" he asked.

"Not anymore." Roman laughed.

Miles squeezed his nose shut and picked up the glass. He drank it in three goes and cried out "Yuck"

"You need to find the other Roman." Miles reiterated and passed out on the floor.

Roman laughed and poured himself another glass of the red stuff. It was really starting to grow on him. He lay down on the floor again and fell asleep.

[TelephotoMarigold]

Chapter 15

The day dawned with a promise of heat. The sky was a brilliant blue with not a cloud in sight. Aden and Belle were sitting on the beach watching their children build sandcastles. They were holding hands and sneaking kisses as they spoke about memories from their past. Eventually, with the children out of earshot but not their watchful glances the conversation turned to the events from last night.

"Do you think he knows?" Belle asked.

"He has no idea otherwise he would have been there last night." Aden murmured. "Somebody should tell him."

Belle looked at her husband and smiled.

"Have you just volunteered?" she asked him standing up.

"Heck no!" he exclaimed. "I'm not that brave! The man has been trained to kill you in unarmed combat in 27 different ways!"

Belle laughed and walked over to where their kids were playing.

"Come on its time for breakfast." she said. "Lets go to the Diner." she suggested.

Aden stood and gathered up all the bits and pieces before they walked to the Diner.

Nicole sat in the diner. She was nursing a cup of coffee and hoping that Miles had managed to tell Roman. Her frequent glances to her phone mirrored her worried gaze. Geoff came in and sat next to her. He took hold of her hand and just remained quiet sitting next to her.

Leah and Rachel walked into the Diner. JJ was holding his "Aunt" Leah's hand and Rachel was pushing the twin buggy with the babies in. It was their first outing and soon Colleen and Irene were arguing over which one of them was going to get the first cuddle when they woke up.

Lowering her voice so that Nicole couldn't overhear Colleen began to tell Rachel about the events of the night before.

Laughing, Rachel interrupted her.

"Leah already told me!" she said.

Miles walked slowly to the Diner. He hadn't even been home yet, he had left Roman sleeping on the floor. God knows what they were drinking last night but he needed a strong coffee. Or several.

[TelephotoMarigold]

Nicole reached into her bag for her purse so she could pay for her coffee. It was then that she noticed the rip in the lining. It was her favourite bag too! She put it on the table in front of her and opened it up to take a look at it.

"I'll pay if you can't find your purse." Geoff offered.

"No I have my purse, it’s my bag." Nicole looked up and opened the top of the bag to show what was wrong with it to Geoff.

"The lining is ripped." he said.

"Yeah, and not only that there is something in there." she said.

Geoff reached in and tried to reach inside. Their fingers touched and they looked at each other and giggled.

"Let me!" he said.

He took the bag away from her and eased his fingers into the rip. He managed to grab it and ease it through the lining.

"Hey Nic!" he said.

"That's his letter!" she explained. "Oh my God!"

Nicole smoothed out the envelope and looked at the girlish handwriting.

"You need to give it to him." Geoff said.

He smoothed her hair over her shoulder and placed a warm comforting hand on her bare shoulder.

She tilted her head and rested her cheek on his hand.

"I don't know." she said honestly.

Things were happening too quickly.

"Nic." he said softly.

"Can you give it to him?" she asked him. "I don't think I can and he deserves to have this letter."

"Sure. I'll take it now." he took the letter and put it in his trousers pocket. "You'll wait here?" he asked.

"Yes." she whispered.

He stood and placed a brief kiss on her lips before walking out of the diner and heading to Roman's.