Fate and Destiny.

By Jaye Reid.

Commenced: 05.02.2000

Completed: 12.03.2000

Disclaimer: Well, I guess Francis James Holloway belongs to Hal McElroy, Southern Star and the Nine network, no matter what time span he fictitiously lives in. So he and the other players in this story all belong to them despite the fact at least one of the main players was never seen by us. Part of this story is also an expansion of a tale that Frank once told Rachel. I thought it might be interesting to play it out.

Authors notes: Oh it's another Frank fic! Who is really surprised that I wrote it? g Special thanks goes to Julia for this one for her initial inspiration! Go Jules, thanks to your creative genius, you have inspired me to write this one. It's taken me some time to get around to finishing this. At least it is one less in my uncompleted file.

Summary: When will Frank learn to keep out of trouble? Well that's anyone's guess, but *never* seems an appropriate answer to the question!

~*~*~*~

"Holloway, my office NOW!" bellowed the Sergeant.

"You're in the shit," grinned one officer as he glanced in Frank's direction.

"Yeah," said another, "that'll learn ya!"

"Great… ta… thanks for the support fellas. Nice to know who my mates are," replied Frank.

"First round's on you tonight Frank."

"That will depend on whether I've still got a job to be able to afford it," he answered as he headed for the Sergeants office.

~*~

"Close the door," the Sergeant instructed.

Frank did as he was told. He wasn't going to enjoy this one bit.

"I'm sure this will be another creative excuse Holloway. But I'm a gluten for punishment. Do you want to tell me what you have been doing for the past two and a half hours? And exactly *why* you ignored all radio communication?"

Frank looked at him sheepishly. He would have to learn to think quicker he decided. Why didn't he come up with something that sounded good on the way back to the Station?

"Well come on Holloway. Out with it. The radio, why didn't you answer it? Didn't they teach you the importance of keeping in radio communication at the Academy?"

"Yes they did Sir," replied Frank.

"Well…?"

"Ah… well… I wasn't in the car," started Frank, before realising that probably wasn't going to help.

The Sergeant stood up from his chair and shook his head.

"So you left your vehicle without telling anyone? What…. what… if there had been a problem Holloway, how would we have known where to even *start* looking for you? You've got a bloody lot to learn! That's if you don't get yourself killed or kicked off the force in the meantime."

"Yes Sir."

The sergeant shook his head again and sat back down. "That will be all. I can't be bothered hearing your excuses at the moment, I have work to do. I will read all about it in the report that I want on my desk by the end of the day. You can go."

"Yes Sir," Frank replied and left as quickly as possible.

~*~

He looked at the clock on the wall. Half an hour and his shift *should* have been over. But it wasn't going to be. Bloody paperwork. He was getting a feeling that being a cop was going to be a lot of paperwork, and it was far from being his strong point.

His colleagues were still razzing him as they headed off to the pub at the end of the shift. Frank was having trouble with his report. It wasn't what he had been *doing* in those missing hours that was causing the problem, it was mastering the damn typewriter that was the hassle! It was one of those electric ones. It seemed to have a mind of its own, jumping forward too far or typing the same letter if he held his finger down on any key for too long. Give him a manual typewriter any day he thought.

Hit the key once and you only got one letter.

He looked up at the clock again. Oh hell, after 6. At this rate he was going to be there half the night. Better ring the missus. She was going to be annoyed – again!

He dialed their number and waited. Hell, she was getting sick of him being late.

"Hello?" she said after the third ring.

"Hi love," he said trying to be bright and cheerful. Hoping his tone would rub off on her. "Only me. Ah… look… I'm gonna be a bit late tonight… sorry."

"What this time?" she asked tiredly. She *was* getting tired of all his excuses.

"I've got a bloody report that has to be on the Boss' desk before I go home. As soon as it's done I will be home, promise," he replied.

"So… not going to the pub with your mates?" she asked.

"No. Look Doreen, if I was going to the pub I'd tell ya. I'm not. I've had my butt kicked again today and if I don't get this done, I may not be in the job much longer. Look I have to go," he added. "Or I won't be home until midnight at this rate."

"Yeah okay. Love you," she said sadly. He seemed to be working or out with his new mates at the pub.

"Love you too," he replied as he hung up the phone.

He went back to the report.

It had just been a natural thing for him and Doreen to get married. They went to school together, lived only a few houses apart. Her brothers were mates and she was just as tough as them. They all knocked around in the neighbourhood together. She was one of the boys. Well until she scared the hell out of him one day and bloody well kissed him.

Frank smiled at the recollection.

He hadn't known what to do or say. They were all of about 16 and this was *Doreen*. What had she been *thinking* as they walked back home from kicking the football down the end of the street? They had their own private footy field He could pretend that he was Killeen or Parker or Boulton, or any of the other members of his beloved Tigers. They all followed Balmain, so the boys had a great rivalry at who wanted to be who. Developers had pulled down the factory that had been at the site, and while they hadn't started building something new, it was the perfect place to play.

Her brothers had already run home ahead of them. Frank remembered he had hurt his knee on a lump of concrete hidden in the grass, going for the try of the decade! Doreen had decided to walk with him. She was always sweet like that. And then she had kissed him before basically making a bolt for her house.

He looked at her differently after that.

She wasn't just one of the boys anymore.

From then on, well things were different. She even stood by him when he decided to join the police force. Neither of their families were happy about it. He often wondered if it would have just been easier to have given in and gone and worked with his Father and her Father down on the wharf. She was starting to complain now. He always seemed to be late these days. If he wasn't working back late on the job or on nightshift… well he *had* to go and socialize with the guys. He wanted to get somewhere with the job. You just didn't talk about your personal stuff. He didn't think any of the other guys even knew he was married. You just didn't talk about things like that. And you didn't get anywhere by being a loner and going straight home after work. He didn't want to spend his *whole* life in uniform.

One day he was going to do something else. Perhaps a detective like the blokes upstairs? They're lives didn't seem too tough. They seemed to wandered in and out as they pleased.

That would be the go.

One day.

~*~

It *was* late by the time Frank arrived home at their tiny little flat in Balmain. Despite the fact that they had both grown up in the area, he wished he could afford something better for them. Again, one day he told himself…

"You asleep hon.?" he quizzed as he wandered into the bedroom. He took his shoes off and put them quietly down on the floor near the door. They looked a bit shabby and he tried to make a mental note to give them a clean in the morning.

She rolled over and looked at him, she *had* been asleep.

"Hmm, you home? What time is it?" she asked sleepily.

"Ahh just gone 10," he replied lying down on top of the covers and cuddling into her. "Sorry I'm so damn late. Paperwork."

"I thought I was married to a copper. If you were a clerk I don't think it would have caused as much of a stir with your family some how," she replied.

"Yeah well somedays I feel like I'm a bloody clerk," he replied kissing her.

"Ya dinner is in the fridge if you want to take it out and stick it in the oven to reheat."

"Oh you're an absolute angel," he grinned, "I'm starvin'. What did I do to deserve you?"

"You don't deserve me," she laughed. "I just stay because it would be too much hassle to go back home."

"And because the sex is good!" he added with a grin as he threw himself on top of her.

"Oh go and have your dinner Frank," she replied.

"You want me to have my dinner?" he quizzed looking down at her.

"Yes… can't have you fading away to a shadow, you're skinny enough as it is. That uniform will be falling off you. And I like a man in uniform," she added.

"Hmm thought you preferred me out of it actually," he replied with a mischievous grin.

"Well that's another story," she smiled.

"Remind me not to let you near the blokes at the Station then," he replied. "I'm not sharin' you with anyone!"

Frank wandered out of the bedroom and into the dimly lit kitchen. He turned the oven on and took the plate of food from the fridge.

By the time he had heated his meal, eaten it and returned to the bedroom, Doreen was fast asleep. Frank smiled as he climbed into bed, not game to wake her, and decided that sleep would be the best thing for him too.

~*~

"Morning Frank."

"Yeah, morning Denis, how's it going?" replied Frank.

"Ah yeah same old same old I guess," he replied.

"Seen the Boss yet this morning?" Frank quizzed.

"Nah… you actually *want* to see him?" laughed Denis. "What, haven't you two seen *enough* of each other lately?"

"Yeah I reckon, that's just my point. I want to make sure I'm somewhere else for awhile," Frank replied.

"Well come on then, why don't we go out on patrol? That should keep *you* out of his hair for a little while at least," smirked Denis.

"Sounds like a fair idea to me. Let's go!"

"Ah… I'm drivin' Frank," informed Denis.

"What? How come?"

"I've heard about your driving Frank, I want to get back here in one piece," he laughed.

"Rumour and innuendo mate, that's all it is. I'm a safe driver," Frank retorted.

"Listen, I heard how many goes you had at passing the course at the Academy, I'll drive!"

Frank gave up trying to argue the point with Denis. Truth be known, he was never keen on driving, but he wasn't about to have anyone say that he wasn't good at it.

They headed out, cruising the streets of Sydney. There wasn't a lot happening. They could have booked a few people for minor traffic offences, but the paperwork they would have to do, made them think twice. Considering the amount of paperwork Frank had endured the night before, he decided that he didn't really want to sit in front of a typewriter again for awhile.

"Jesus… what the hell!" exclaimed Denis as they headed down Pitt Street.

"What? Where?" asked Frank.

"Back there," said Denis, looking in the rear vision mirror.

Frank turned around and could see a car doing donuts in the middle of the busy crowded street.

"Shit, what are they? Stupid, suicidal or both!" he replied.

"Hang on," replied Denis as he jammed the handbrake on and spun the patrol car around all most at the speed of light.

"Holy shit mate what the frig are you tryin' to do? Get us both killed," yelled Frank as he held on and watched the traffic around them have to come to an abrupt halt as the turned the car around.

"Nah gettin' us killed would be you drivin'," Denis replied. "Let's get these bastards."

They flew back down Pitt Street, sirens and lights flashing. The offenders had quickly sped off, the chase was now on.

Frank and Denis followed them close behind, but the occupants of the car weren't interested in pulling over for a chat.

"Let's just hope they go left up here," said Frank.

Denis glanced at Frank.

"Well it's a dead end," commented Frank. "I grew up in Sydney, I know these streets pretty damn well."

"Yeah well I'm from up the bush and I don't, so I hope you're right Frankie boy," replied Denis.

"Ah, well they're obviously from up the bush too," said Frank with a grin as they watched the car in front of them turn left. "Got the little bastards now."

The cars came to an abrupt halt at the end of the street as it narrowed into a dead end. The doors flew open, and the occupants jumped out, making a run for it.

"Cheeky bastards," yelled Denis as they also jumped out of the patrol car. "I'll get the driver, you get his mate."

Frank took off after the passenger, a lanky kid and could run like the wind. Just the sort of fella they needed down at the Tigers he thought. Frank cornered him in an alleyway. This was going to be nice and simple he figured.

As Frank went to put a hand on the shoulder of the lout, the kid swung around and struck Frank in the face with a clenched fist. The punch hit its mark and Frank heard a crack as his nose erupted in a sea of blood.

Bastard!

With blood running down Frank's face, he grabbed the guy and threw him to the ground before putting a knee in his back and cuffing him. Reasonable force, well in Frank's book it was. Bastard. Frank was sure his nose was broken.

He hauled the kid roughly back to the patrol car. Denis was waiting for him.

"Shit, what happened to you?" asked Denis noticing the blood streaming from Frank's nose.

"Ah the bastard," he replied shoving the kid into the back seat. "I think it could be broken."

"Think?" replied Denis, "Christ mate, you should see the angle it's on. Bloody oath it's broken!"

"Just great, that's really made my day that has," Frank replied wiping the blood from his face with his hands and flicking it across the roadway.

"Well, I've radioed in," replied Denis. "But I reckon I'd better get someone else to bring the car back, and you can get a lift to the hospital with them."

Frank spent half the day at the hospital getting his face fixed, looking in a sad and sorry state by the time he arrived back at the police Station.

"Boss want's to see you," said one of the other constables as he walked in the door.

"Yeah, figured he would," replied Frank, far from surprised.

He knocked on the door of his Sergeant and walked in on command.

"Holloway, all fixed up are we?" his sergeant queried as Frank closed the door.

"Yes Sir," replied Frank as well as he could with a throbbing headache and a nose that felt like it was going to permanently blocked for weeks.

"I think a change of scenery could be the best thing for you Holloway," continued the sergeant not looking up from his paperwork. "There is a posting at Tuggerah available for a young constable. I think it could be just the thing for you."

"Do I have a choice?" queried Frank.

"Yes, you have a choice," replied the sergeant finally looking up, "Tuggerah or I can see you have worked one of your last days on the force."

"So, when do I start?" replied Frank. There wasn't going to be much choice. Well there obviously wasn't *any* choice. Hell what was Doreen going to say?

"As soon as possible," replied the Sergeant.

"Nice working with you," replied Frank.

"The sergeant looked up at him in surprise. Was he being a smart arse? H is face gave nothing away. "Wish I could say the same. Take this piece of advice Holloway, play it by the book in future or you won't last in the force for very long."

"Thank you Sir," said Frank.

~*~

Doreen panicked as she walked through the laundry on arriving home to see Frank's blood stained shirt lying on the floor.

"Frank! Frank!"

"Yeah, in here," he called from the bedroom. His head was still throbbing and he was hoping that taking a double the dose of the Panadeine forte, the hospital had issued him with, would make it go away.

"Frank?" she said in a worried tone as she stood in the doorway. "I saw your shirt, the blood. What happened?"

"Ah, nothing to worry about love, just had a bit of a mishap with one of the customers today. That's all," he replied.

"A bit of a mishap? Frank, you look bloody terrible. Sometimes I wonder if working on the docks with Dad wouldn't have been safer than the streets of Sydney," she replied, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Well actually that's another thing," he replied. She had given him the perfect lead in to discussing the subject. "I've been given a transfer, up the bush. Should be heaps quieter and less of this sort of crap to deal with."

"Move? When? How could you apply for a transfer without telling me?" she queried starting to get annoyed.

"Ah well love, I didn't apply for it. It was sort of an ultimatum."

"What do you mean?"

"It was something like, take the job or get kicked out of the force," he replied.

"Oh, I see. And you still want to be a copper then?" she asked.

"Doreen, I haven't given it a proper go, not yet," he replied. "But if you've had enough, I mean I couldn't blame you if…"

"When do we go?"

"Are you sure? I mean you really… hell love, I'm sorry. I wish there was some other way."

"When? Soon I am guessing?" she replied.

"Yeah, as soon as I can."

"Well I suppose I should start packing," she replied standing up and heading out of the room.

"Doreen, look, I promise. I'll behave myself from now on. Totally by the book. I'll be the perfect probationary constable," he replied seriously.

She stopped and smiled.

"Yeah Frank, I know you will. Well when hell freezes over at least you will!" she laughed.

"Hmm," smiled Frank as she left the room.

She knew him all too well!

The End.