I've convinced my mum to let me borrow the car this weekend. I'm not the world's greatest driver - I came to it late, but I am careful. It surprises me, however, that Andy doesn't drive at all.

"Didn't you grow up in the country?" I ask him.

He laughs. "I can drive. I just don't have a license."

"Why not?"

He shrugs. "I don't need one? I don't have enough money for a car? I'm probably a danger to all those who venture onto roads?"

"You're shit at it?"

"Insanely awful," he's grinning at me. "Driving a tractor is very different to driving a Toyota, just so you know."

I grin and shift gears, making them crunch, and he winces. "Where are we going any way?"

My knowledge of Sydney isn't encyclopedic - but when I was younger Dad used to take us places on the weekends, all three of us, in an attempt to give mum some time off, especially if she'd been working shifts, so I do know a lot of places that are specifically designed (at least, in my mind) to amuse kids with active imaginations. There weren't a whole lot of things Dad could do with us that would keep both Carver and Beth and I amused, so when he found one that worked, we'd go there a lot.

The old fortifications at Middle Head was our favourite. Hands down. I remember Carver used to jump up and down asking Dad to take us there, every weekend, practically, even though it was a fair drive and I know now Dad was terrified we'd get lost in one of the tunnels and have to be rescued or fall of the cliffs and die terribly or get stung by blue ringed octopi or bitten by a redback or one of the fifty other million things that could happen to you in Sydney on any given day that foreigners always laugh at you about…

We'd go, armed with balls of string and pocket torches, and explore the tunnels that always seemed so much more dangerous than they probably were, the sound of the ocean and the echoes and darkness making it feel like a real life dungeons and dragons game (to me) some sort of romantic adventure story (to Beth) and what it actually was intended to be, a network of defense tunnels with which to repel the Japanese, or the Indonesians or whoever was going to bother to invade a country that's main export at the time was sheep. Carver always pretended to be some kind of arse-kicking American marine. Apparently Americans were better at that sort of thing, although Carver's accent was truly and universally appalling.

It was a beautiful spot too, and I know Dad did a fair bit of his intermittent composing there, sitting on an outcrop as we romped and played in the tunnels, looking out over the ocean, or holed up in a tunnel watching us and laughing when it was raining. Once we went there during a storm and he dragged me out to watch the lightning striking far, far out on the horizon and we counted the seconds before we heard the thunder and for most of them we never did…

In any case, Andy has the weekend off. He has no assignments or classes or things he has to do at Westmead and he can't drive, so I offered to take him out. Since neither of us have any money, we had to brainstorm for a while before I came up with bringing him here. In the boot we've got wine, food and reading material. I've even packed a ball of string and a pocket torch.

When we get there he has a look of surprised wonder on his face that makes me want to kiss it, so we do that, for a while, before trekking up to the best spot overlooking the ocean. "Didn't they shoot a Farscape episode here once?" he asks, and I laugh, because they did.

We eat, and drink a little bit (not too much, since I'm going to have to drive home) and I tell him about why the place is important, and about Carver, because that still hasn't really sunk in for me.

"He's in the army now?" Anders says.

"He's going to Canberra. They'll put him through university - engineering tech, something weird and Carver-ish, and then he'll be an officer."

"I nearly did that," he says, taking a drink and looking out over the ocean. I blink.

"You?"

He nods. "Back when I was trying to get the marks together to get into med. Needless to say I didn't follow through. They would have trained me as a medic though, so…" he shrugs. "Carver might be onto a good thing."

"Have you always wanted to do medicine?"

He smiles. "No. For a while there I wanted to be a revolutionary. Justin wanted me to study law with him and… change the system… " he waves a hand. "I… just didn't have the energy. Really."

"But you've got the energy to spend sixty hours a week working to be a doctor?"

He laughs. "Point." He takes a sip of wine and looks at me over the glass. "The way you talk about your father… here, with you and your brother and your sister… You're not… " he looks troubled, obviously trying to find the words. "You haven't said anything about the people who did it."

I don't know why I'm suddenly so… still. I should have expected that question. Especially with the trial coming up. He seems to realise he's asked the wrong question though, because he shakes his head. "I didn't mean to… I mean… I'm sorry you don't have to answer me…"

I twirl the plastic glass of wine in my hand and then shrug and drink it. "I suppose you think I'm howling for their blood," I say softly.

"It would make sense," he replies.

I grimace. "You think?"

He looks at me and I want to kiss him again because he doesn't. "I would… understand it."

I look at him again and he shakes his head and laughs, but it's a sad laugh. "Nothing they do to them will bring back dad or Beth," I say finally. "And they think they'll get their heaven and their forty virgins or whatever the fuck it is they get. Why not let them rot in jail instead?"

He turns his head to focus on the water and I can't tell what's going on in his head and I'm not even sure that I want to. I'm saved from the trouble when I hear his mobile ring.

He pulls it from his pocket and answers it, giving me an apologetic look that is quickly swallowed up by one of shock.

"What?" his lips press tight together and I know suddenly, that something is very, very wrong. "….How long ago?"

There is a long pause. I can hear a voice on the other end of the line, calm, low, but speaking at length and Andy's face turns hard, then clinical, then enraged in quick succession.

"Fucking bastards," he breathes, then shakes his head as the other person talks urgently again for a few moments. "Uh… well… No. No he doesn't. They're all interstate… " Andy gets to his feet and starts pacing, shaking his head. "I'm not close, it'll take me a while to get there," he glances up at me, eyes questioning. "I should be able to though. Uh… Is he all right? Is he going to be ok?"

There is another long pause. My brain has gone completely blank. I have no idea who he might be talking about - his foster father maybe? Justin? His cat? But it's pretty obvious someone's been hurt and it's someone important to him and…

…this is definitely the end of our outing.

I start cleaning up things and putting cheese away as Andy says a few more "uh huh"s and "I see"s before he shuts off the phone and turns to look at me.

"Um…" he starts, catching that beautiful lower lip between his teeth. "Something's happened."

I try for a smile. "I guessed."

"It's a lot to ask, but do you think… you could give me a lift?"

"Where to?"

He looks grim. "St Vincent's." The hospital in Darlinghurst.

I was right. "God. What's wrong?"

"A friend of mine. Karl. He's been…" he shakes his head, gritting his teeth. "He's been attacked. They called me because they found my number in his wallet. I… he doesn't have any family here… I hate to ask but…"

I stand up. "Don't be stupid. Of course I'll take you."

He takes a long, shaky breath. "Karl's one of my oldest friends. We knew each other when we were kids… this… I can't…. "

"What happened?"

"The doctor says he's been beaten up. It probably happened last night, but they didn't find him till this morning."

"Fuck."

"He's unconscious. They don't even know… God I have to call his parents…"

I finish packing up our things, hastily, shoving the bag in his hands. "Come on," I say.

He catches my arm as I turn to go to the car. "Sorcha," he says. I turn back and he pulls me to him roughly, catching my mouth with his and kissing me hard. It's unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome. When he's finished, he leans his forehead on mine for a few seconds, breathing hard, eyes closed. Then he nods, once, firmly. "Thanks," he says.

I follow him to the car