Devon - formerly called Hando - smiled to himself, shook his head, and walked on. He wasn’t sure where he was going or what he was looking for, he was just going. He had a driving license for the first time in his life. It had been a bit daunting going to the licensing office and filling out the forms. He’d half expected the computer to go off like a fire alarm when it processed his application, but nothing had happened. He knew how to drive, just hadn’t ever done it legally before. Now, he drove one of his grandmother’s cars, a nearly new Rover, and felt positively decadent what with the leather seats, burled wood dashboard and luxurious stereo. Hando had never driven anything remotely like that - even stolen.

He used his new found independence to find out about Sydney all over again. He had spent hours sitting by the harbour, just watching the boats sail in and out and the tourists swarm over the docks and the Opera House. The August sun was weak, and a chill breeze rattled the lanyards on the flag poles. He leaned on a railing and looked down at the water, his coat half unbuttoned.

He’d been surprised when Libby brought him his long, black coat and his white jeans. “Did you think we’d burnt them?” she had asked with a laugh.

“Wouldn’t have surprised me,” he had said somewhat ungraciously. That was two months ago and he hadn’t seen her since. She had disappeared out of his life as fast as she’d entered it, and while he would just as soon not have met her under the circumstances that had taken place, he didn’t want her to go away. They had argued - loudly - about that very subject. His grandmother had asked her to quit working for the police and come to work for the Wallace family foundation. Libby, for reasons she kept to herself, had refused. Several times, in fact. Just like she had refused to explain why she wouldn’t see him again.

Missing her was a constant ache. Even now, his hand went unconsciously to press on his ribcage, just under his heart. “Damn it,” he muttered to himself. Ridiculous to feel this way. He really barely knew her. They’d had mind-blowing sex, it was true, and had spent hours in each other’s company during his “therapy” sessions before she’d accomplished his rescue, but that didn’t equate with the size of the empty spot in his middle since she’d gone. He sighed.

He heard the click of high-heeled shoes, dismissing it as nothing unusual. He was watching two seagulls fight over a small bit of flotsam in the water, thinking how much it reminded him of two humans arguing over some worthless bit of junk. “Ahem,” someone cleared their throat right behind him and he jerked around in surprise.

“Libby!” He grinned happily, his heart suddenly lighter. She looked wonderful. She was in a dark red leather coat over a charcoal gray wool skirt with matching pumps. “A veritable fashion plate,” he told her.

“What are you doing down here?” she wanted to know. She clutched a beautiful suede briefcase like a weapon, as if ready to swing it at his head if he made some threatening move.

Devon’s grin faded to an ironic look. “Just hangin’ about, like those blokes on the Dole over there, nothin’ important.” He leaned a hip against the railing, hands in his pockets, and looked her up and down with all the insolence Hando would have conveyed. She seemed to expect it. Who was he to disappoint?

“How did you get here?” She hadn’t relaxed one iota. She was still clutching that briefcase as if she expected him to jump at her, or try to drag her off into an alley.

“Drove,” he answered succinctly. “God, you look good,” he couldn’t help adding.

Libby blinked, clearly not having expected the answer or the compliment. “You drove? Legally?”

“Naw, stole a cop car,” he rasped in his Hando voice. “Of course I drove legally, what do you think I am?”

She relaxed just slightly. At least, she didn’t appear to be about to lob the briefcase at his head. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. It was why she had let her second thoughts about him - about herself with him - break off any sort of relationship. She couldn’t see him professionally because she could not keep her personal feelings from interfering with her objectivity. And he scared her. Rather, she was scared of what she felt when she was around him. “I have an appointment,” she lied, not looking him in the eye, “Nice to have seen you.” She turned to walk on and stopped when she realized he had hold of her sleeve. “Let go of me.”

Passersby turned to look. Devon looked back at them calmly, but something in his expression caused them all to quickly look away and move on. When it was just the two of them looking at one another, he let go of Libby’s coat sleeve. “Sorry, but I didn’t want you to go.” He searched her face, “Can you ditch your appointment?”

She sighed. “I don’t really have an appointment, I was just nervous.”

“Afraid?” he asked, brows lifted. The wind kicked up and he shivered slightly, holding his coat closed.

“I guess so - silly, huh?” Talking with him like this, he seemed very non-threatening, but she’d seen the steely looks he’d given the nosy people walking past. Hando was very close to the surface, and Hando made her nervous.

“No worries,” he said briskly, reading every nuance of expression that passed over her mobile features. “I’ll let you get on with your day. Sorry to have bothered you, Dr. Orr.” He stepped back, shoved both hands in his pockets and nodded politely.

Irresolute, she dithered for a moment, but his face was closed, chilly blue-green eyes looking through her. “Well, I have to be someplace,” she said lamely. She sighed and walked on, feeling his eyes on her after she was out of his reach. When she glanced back, he was huddled against the wind, his coat flapping open, looking out at the harbour once more. “Damn it,” she muttered. She forced herself to keep walking, but she felt like she’d just kicked a puppy or smushed a butterfly. “Damn, damn, damn.”

Devon, feeling extremely bereft now that she’d walked on, stood in the middle of the walkway until a running toddler barreled into his legs, almost knocking him off his feet. He smiled and righted the small boy, handing him over to his mother, who snapped at the kid for running off. The weak sunlight seemed somewhat dimmer. He decided against continuing his brooding by the water, and began walking slowly to the car park. Maybe he’d hunt for something for Gram, some small antique something or other she’d like. He could lose himself browsing and forget how befuddled he was because he had no aim, no direction in life now that he didn’t have Davey, Bubs and the rest to boss around.

He had the key in the door lock when a touch on his arm woke him from his bleak reverie.

“I lied, I didn’t have anywhere else I had to be,” Libby told him. His face lit up and she thought once again how handsome he was now that the main vestiges of his skinhead life were no longer apparent. “Can you forgive me?” The wind blew her hair out of its smooth bob and little tendrils wisped around her face.

Devon straightened, still holding the key, blinking in surprise. “Forgive you? For what, having a normal sense of caution?”

She smiled, “Well, when you put it that way, yes.”

“No worries, luvvy,” he told her. “Feel better now?” He stood holding the key, not sure what to do.

“Not quite,” she admitted. She set her purse and briefcase down on the blacktop next to the Rover and stepped up to him so their fronts were touching. She reached up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him down to her level to kiss him. After an instant’s paralyzed surprise, his arms tightened around her and he moaned into her mouth. She moaned right back, feeling suddenly pounds lighter - tons lighter.

It was a long kiss, breaking off only because they heard stifled laughter from an older couple just getting into their car down the row. Even with the audience, Devon kissed her forehead, cheekbones and revisited her mouth before setting her back slightly so they weren’t pressed together. “As apologies go,” he told her, “that was brilliant.”

Libby grinned at him. “I thought so. I feel a lot better now.”

He cleared his throat, faint red showing on his cheeks as he noticed still more onlookers. “Go somewhere with me?” he asked her, sure that she’d seize this moment and run off again.

Libby glanced around at the grinning faces, stifled her own laughter, and nodded, “Sure, I was done for the day anyway.” Devon walked around to the passenger door and opened it for her. “Thanks,” she said, her smile widening at his manners.

Devon climbed into the driver’s seat and started up the engine before catching her smile, “Well, aren’t you the bloody Cheshire Cat all of a sudden,” he remarked, backing smoothly out into the traffic lane. He drove down the harbour front road, headed for the historic district and the dozens of antique shops.

“I suppose I am,” she admitted. She unfastened her coat and made herself comfortable. “This is a lovely car,” she remarked.

“You oughta remember it, it’s the one Gram drove that night you rescued me.” He signaled and turned left into a side street. “You like antiquing? We can maybe have tea at one of the cafes, if you’d like.”

“You never cease to amaze me,” she answered, “yes, that would be great.”

“Good,” he said, parking the car. He turned off the ignition and faced her instead of climbing out right away. “Libby - why did you just leave like that?”

She made a soft clucking noise, smiling ruefully.

“Oh,” was all he said. Then, “Of me, you’re scared of me?” More like, scared of Hando, and the part of him that still inhabited his body.

“Scared of how I feel when I’m around you, actually.”

He glanced up from a study of his interlinked fingers, his eyes very blue. She nodded, “Yes, I know it’s difficult to believe that a hoodlum such as yourself could get to a toffee-nosed bitch like me, but you have.”

“Hoodlum,” he snorted, grinning. “Not any more. Why, if I walked back into that squat over the garage right now they’d laugh themselves silly at me.” He didn’t add that they would also beat the shit out of him right after that. In their eyes, he’d be a traitor, possibly a snitch. After all, the coppers had taken him away, and he hadn’t tried to go back - definite signs that he was a betrayer.

“Laugh? I can’t imagine laughing at Hando,” she commented.

“Not him, at me. Hando is dead.” He smiled at her, leaning across to kiss her briefly, “Don’t look so worried, it’s all right. Come on, let’s go look for some kind of bauble for Gram and some tea for us.”

“Okay,” she said, feeling a bit better. He held the door for her again. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to that, but she liked it. They walked along the side street onto the more bustling main avenue and joined the throng of shoppers. He reached for her hand and she slid her fingers into his much larger ones. It felt nice. It made her feel young and carefree, and she hadn’t felt that way in a long time. They walked several blocks, stopping to look in windows now and then. “What kind of bauble are you looking for?”

His grandmother had everything, at least it seemed that way. “Oh, she likes old books and stuff - I’m sure you’ve seen the stacks of them all over that house.”

Libby had to admit that she had. “Fell over some, too.”

“Everyone does,” Devon said dryly. He pointed out a small bookseller's shop across the street, "Let's go see what he's got - Gram finds a lot of books she likes in there."

They walked into the tiny, somewhat musty shop, but didn't find a book for his grandmother. He did buy her a weighted leather bookmark, however, and had the shopkeeper wrap it in some interesting hand made paper for her. "Thanks, mate," he said, as they left. "I'm hungry, what about you?"

"I could eat something - mostly, I'd like to sit down, these shoes are a bit dressy for walking too far." She pointed to her grey leather pumps.

Devon looked contrite, "You should've said something - we'd never have walked this far."

"Well, I could have, that's true, but I was having fun." She darted across the street with him where they found seats at a table in a nice cafe. When she was comfortably seated in front of the old fashioned tiny-paned window, she sighed happily. "There, that'll do."

Devon just shook his head, "Sheila's, I'll never get it."

"Vanity is the deal," Libby murmured, perusing the menu. "I want an eclair and a cinnamon latte'," she announced.

"Good, a woman not afraid to eat," Devon praised her. When the waitress came over, he ordered the same thing for each of them, then sat back, grinning at her. "Life is strange, isn't it?"

Libby had to agree. "Yes - who'd have thought I'd end up having afternoon tea with the fearsome Hando?"

"He's not here now, may never be here again," Devon informed her. "I feel mostly like myself now."

She leaned across and put her hand over his where it rested on the table top. "I'm glad. Makes me feel like I didn't make a mistake getting you out of there."

He just smiled, then their tea - well, coffee - arrived and they were too busy munching and sipping for a bit. He loved watching her eat, he decided. She approached the eclair with gusto - picking it up in her fingers and biting the end off it. No namby-pamby cutting it in pieces with a knife and then picking at it with a fork. And when she got custard and chocolate on her fingers, she licked them clean. She caught him grinning at her as she got the rich dark chocolate off her thumb, "What?" she asked around the last mouthful of delicate pastry.

Devon just shook his head, finishing his own last bite. Finally, he told her, "I just like how you went at that - full tilt - no mincing around, no picking at it."

"Hey, it's chocolate - I never mess about with chocolate." She did wipe her mouth with a paper napkin however, but only after she had driven him wild licking her lips. She grinned, knowing exactly what the slightly poleaxed look in his eyes meant.

Devon sighed, then looked out the window at the passersby, trying to take his mind off his suddenly too-tight jeans. A slight disturbance in the crowd caught his eye and he leaned a bit closer to the window to see better. There was a man, he couldn't see much of the bloke, but he was tall and skinny, and it seemed he was bothering some of the shoppers, most of whom were dressed in very expensive clothing and the trappings of the ultra rich. A surge in the crowd of people brought the skinny man into the clear and Devin's jaw dropped in amazement. "Davey!" he murmured. He got to his feet and almost ran for the door to go greet his former comrade, then recalled who and where he was and sat back down.

Libby glanced out the window and saw the almost skeletal figure of a man, obviously a skinhead, who was harrassing some well dressed women. The police were just about to pounce on him and remove him from the neighborhood. "You know him?" she asked Devon.

"Yeah," he muttered, "well, I used to, anyway." He continued to stare out the window. Just as the police grabbed hold of Davey's arms and began to drag him toward the police van, Davey looked up and straight into the cafe window at Devon. Devon waved before he could catch himself. Davey's eyes caught the aborted motion and sharpened, but it was clear that he didn't recognize the man staring at him from inside the restaurant. The police tossed him into the back of the van and it sped off.

Devon looked at Libby once it disappeared, "He didn't know me."

Libby patted his hand, "Devon - you don't look anything like Hando any more - it's no wonder he didn't know you."

"We were best mates for a long time," Devon said a bit wistfully, then he virtually shook himself, shrugged and smiled at Libby. "I'm sure he wondered who the clown was staring at him."

"Probably," she agreed.

"Well, come on, let's go for a drive or something, take pity on your feet."

They returned to the car and drove out into the countryside. Long after sundown, they stopped at a roadside inn for dinner, then drove slowly back to Sydney. "Where can I drop you?" he asked her, "I mean - do you want to go home - I have no idea where you live."

"You've been there," she teased him. "How could you forget?"

He laughed, "You drove, remember? And I was a bit, um, too randy to notice much beyond you. So where do we go from here?"

"I don't know about where we go from here," she answered firmly, "but take a left at the next light and go four blocks, then we'll discuss whether you're spending the night with me or not."

"Oh," he said happily, "now this sounds like it has possibilities."

"You just never know," she answered truthfully.