We walk outside into the cool morning air. The sun is rising on the horizon, casting an orange glow across the waking city.
Duncan pulls me along with him, throwing glances over his shoulder.
“I don’t think they’re following us.”
“Did he ask you about the gun?”
I look up at him, and nod.
“Did you take it?”
I nod again.
“Why?”
“It was the only way to put Dad away,” I say. “He had it coming. It was eventually going to catch up to him, anyway.”
I say it with conviction. I believe it.
“It was the only we to protect our son.” I take his hand, put it on my belly.
“But you could have been caught.”
“But I wasn’t,” I say. “Was I?”
“That was a huge risk, Dee.”
“I know.”
“What if they had found out?”
“Then I could just say I was in shock, didn’t know what I was doing.”
“Would that even hold up?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, Duncan. It’s over now, okay?”
“Okay,” he says. “Remind me never to mess with you.”
“I know what I’m doing,” I tell him. “Most of the time, anyway.”
“Where did you put it?”
“I just dropped it into the sewer. It had been raining all night, right? It’ll have washed away somewhere.”
“Did you wipe the handle?”
“No,” I say. “But in the sewer? With that much rain?”
“It’s a risk,” he whispers.
“I don’t think they’re going to be pulling any CSI shit on us, Duncan. They’ve got all the evidence they need to put Dad away… that video is enough! The detective seemed to want to help me, too. What did you tell them about the gun?”
“I said I didn’t know if he had one, it was too dark to see.”
“But you did know, right?”
He nods.
“How did you know to lie?”
“I saw you holding it, and then you weren’t. At first I thought you had just put it down somewhere, until they asked me about it.”
He pulls me around a corner, then he pins me up against the wall, kisses me hard. I wrap my arms around his neck, hold onto him, and he kisses my neck, my shoulders, and we hug each other tight.
We don’t let go. We hold each other, breathe slowly together.
“We’re a team,” Duncan says. “Always.”
It’s dawning on me now that I’m finally free of Dad. He’ll go away, and Frank – who is the only other person who knew about my pregnancy – is dead. If Bullock was going to say something, he would have already, but they’ll have nothing on him. He was forced to fight, and he’s obviously not pressing charges against Duncan for sticking that knife into his leg.
Duncan and I can disappear, live the life we want to in peace. “I can’t believe everything that’s happened,” I whisper into his ear. I bury my face in his neck, inhale his smell, and even though it’s sharp after a long night, I love every bit of it.
“You’re okay, right?” he asks. “Did you get hurt in any way?”
“No.”
“The stress levels can’t have been good. All that adrenaline running through your body, it will have made its way into the fetus, right?”
I blink, then shake my head. “I don’t know, Duncan.”
“We need to make an appointment with your doctor. I saw the way Frank held you.”
“Will you come with me?”
Duncan’s whole face creases up for a moment, bunches together. “Of course,” he whispers. “I wouldn’t miss it for the fucking world. I’ll be with you every God damn step of the way, Dee. Every moment, every second, I’ll be at your side.” He smirks. “Even when you don’t want me around.”
“You can get a bit much sometimes,” I say, grinning.
He looks worn, frayed at the edges. I’m not surprised, either, since he took a good beating. The bandaging on the side of his head that covers the slice up his jawline is already starting to show blood through it, and the white gauze on his arms are also spotting crimson.
“Damn, you got fucked up,” I say. I don’t know why, but this great big grin spreads on my face, and then I’m laughing with him, and we’re laughing together.
And then I’m crying, and I don’t even know why. It’s just a flash of emotion, there one moment, gone the next, but it leaves me teary-eyed in its wake.
“I’m so tired and so hungry,” I say. “Let’s go get some breakfast.”
Duncan wipes the tears from my cheeks, and his own eyes shine red.
“Now let me see,” I say, turning on the spot, wiping my nose quickly. “We’re in St. Kilda, I know a good place where we can get some delicious oatmeal. It’s all organic stuff and they put cinnamon on it and—”
Duncan makes a face.
“What?”
“Oatmeal?”
“It’s healthy. For the baby.”
“I think you’ve earned a treat.”
“Full-fat breakfast?”
He nods. “Yeah. It’ll be alright.”
I don’t even need to think it over. A full breakfast sounds great, something I haven’t had in ages… since before I found out I was pregnant. I’ve been sticking to all the healthy foods, trying to give my baby the best nutrition… but I can’t think of a better time to get some food for my own soul.
“I know a cute café in Brighton,” I say. “They do the best scrambled eggs. I don’t know what they put in it, but it’s magical.”
“Maybe opiates.”
“Stop it,” I say, slapping his shoulder.
“I read about it. Some noodle shop somewhere in China. They were putting opium in their broth to keep people coming back.”
“I doubt that’s the case here.”
Duncan waves down a taxi, and we get in. He turns to me, wipes smudged eye-liner from under my eyes.
“It’s going to look like we had one hell of a night out,” he says.