"YEEEEEEEHAAAAAAA!"

A black-clad blur shot past Eliot and disappeared over the cliff. A cackle of pure, unadulterated delight was heard, fading into the distance.

Hardison, sitting wrapped in his sleeping bag and looking beyond despondent, glanced sideways at Eliot.

"How many is it now?" he muttered.

Eliot gave one of his rare grins and added another log to the fire.

"Countin' this one? Twenty-one."

Hardison sighed.

"Don't she ever get tired? Like, slow down, even? Or … or … just stop?"

"Hell, she's happy," Eliot said, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. "It's like tryin' to wear out a hound dog pup. Ya just unleash her an' let her run. She'll be hungry soon, an' then she'll sleep like the dead. All wore out an' pleased as punch."

Hardison grunted.

"Damn, Eliot … why couldn't we jus' let her fling herself off the Wells Fargo Building for a night or two? Why here?" He extracted an arm from the sleeping bag around his shoulders and waved obliquely at the mountains and forest surrounding them. "I mean … why?" His arm drew back under the sleeping bag, making the young hacker look like a deranged tortoise.

Eliot busied himself stirring the rich and aromatic stew simmering in his aluminium camping pot. He cocked an eyebrow at Hardison.

"'Cause, m'friend, you bought her the new rig an' my part of the birthday gift was choosin' where she could try it out." Eliot's grin became slightly wolfish. "I chose here."

"But …" Hardison wasn't about to let it go. "But … there's nothin' here! Just … just trees … an' bugs, an' bears an' … an' air."

Eliot decided he must have mellowed somewhat over the years, as he wasn't even irritated with Hardison's trademark whining. But then, he thought, he was never happier than when he was up here in the high places, where he could breathe and rest and let his body and mind slow down for a while.

"Hardison … that's why I chose this place. Get some fresh air into your nerdy brain an' allow Parker to let her hair down without havin' to deal with all those people an' situations life throws at her." He took a deep breath, feeling the chill evening air fill his lungs. "Stop bitchin.' It'll do you good."

He handed a wooden spoon to Hardison.

"Here. Keep stirring. I'd better go haul her crazy ass back up that cliff."

As if on cue, he heard a yell from far below them, drifting over the edge of the cliff twenty yards away.

"ELIOOOOTTT! I'm ready!"

Hardison looked up at Eliot, shaking his head.

"You're just encouragin' her, you know that, don't you?"

Eliot snorted in amusement, and leaving Hardison to carry on muttering under his breath about how they were "gonna get ate by a damn grizzly an Nana won't never find out what happened to her precious boy", sauntered to a large pine belted by a sophisticated rope system, a state-of-the-art lightweight harness and tiny electronic pulley.

He peered over the cliff.

Far below him, Parker stood at the base of the smooth, vertical drop and waved at him with both arms. He could almost feel the excitement vibrating through her.

He cups his hands around his mouth and yelled.

"PARKER! GIMMEE TEN SECS, OKAY?"

And within moments he had the pulley working to ease Parker up the cliff face. Peering again over the cliff, he saw her walking easily up the smooth rock, her slight body at a perfect ninety-degree angle.

Smiling, he shook his head.

Parker was touchy to deal with most of the time, but when she was happy, she could be a joy.

Yeah, he thought. Twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. An' there's nothin' quite like her anywhere else in this whole damn world.

Minutes later, he lifted Parker over the edge and set her on her feet, unclipping the ropes from the harness around her slim frame.

Parker studied him for a moment.

Eliot waited patiently, arms crossed.

Parker grinned.

"I'm hungry," she declared. "Wanna eat?"

And with that she launched herself at Eliot, who very nearly didn't uncross his arms in time to catch her.

Parker wrapped her arms and legs around the hitter, and Eliot felt her snuggle her face into his shoulder through his warm padded jacket. Eliot knew better than to complain about her impulsive habits, so he just hung on to her as she clung like a limpet to his sturdy frame.

"Thank you," she whispered into his collarbone. "I love my cliff!"

"Well, darlin'," Eliot drawled, "I'm very glad you do. How'd the rig work out?"

Parker unwrapped herself and dropped lightly to her feet. Eliot cocked his head sideways studying the young woman. Her face was glowing with the fresh air and the excitement of finally getting to try out her birthday gift from Hardison.

"It's … it's … outstanding! It's … oh … like eating nineteen bars of chocolate in five minutes flat, Eliot! Nineteen!"

And turning, she ran at Hardison's hunched figure and pounced.

The hacker and the thief fell in a tangled heap beside the fire, Parker pinning him down, sitting on his chest. She cupped his face, even as Hardison began a blustering tirade of complaint and exasperation dotted with a number of 'godammits' and 'crazy as hells' and 'stop the damn' ticklin' Parker!'

Parker gazed into his face.

"Thank you, Hardison. My rig and my cliff are the Best. Birthday present. EVER."

Hardison shut up. He nodded grudgingly, waving the dripping wooden spoon vaguely towards the stew.

"Well, mamma, that's okay then. But I gotta get back to cookin' supper, a'ight?"

Parker smiled in pure delight, her elfin face lighting up with pleasure. Heaving herself off Hardison's chest, she helped him sit up as Eliot joined them, sitting down on the fallen tree they were using as part of their camp setup.

Within thirty minutes the hearty stew was ladled into tin plates along with hunks of what Eliot called 'damper,' a flour, water and baking soda bread cooked in the ashes.

Parker sniffed it suspiciously.

"It's good, Parker. Try it." Eliot used his hunk to wipe gravy from the side of his plate.

Hardison nibbled at his chunk of bread. His eyebrows shot up.

"Hey, bro', that's not bad! Not bad at all!"

Eliot nodded.

"Yeah. An ol' lady from the Warumungu tribe taught me how to cook it. Pretty good, huh."

Parker took a mouthful along with a hunk of meat from the stew, and she grinned.

"Wow!" She mumbled around the chunk of damper. "'At's goo'!"

Hardison swallowed the hot stew and pursed his lips.

"Warumungu? Who they? Malaysian? African?"

Eliot shook his head, his beanie keeping his long hair out of his eyes and his meal.

"Nope. Australian. Up in the Northern Territory. Spent a while there a few years back." He ate another mouthful of stew as Hardison and Parker waited for more information.

Hardison's patience wore out pretty quickly.

"Well? What were you doin' in Australia? Never knew you'd been there, El. Must've been when you were with …" Hardison suddenly realised he'd said too much as he saw Eliot's eyes turn bleak and a muscle jumped along the hitter's jaw.

Eliot let out an explosive breath. These days he was less likely to threaten to whup-ass and he was more able to speak about his past, although it was still an ordeal he would try and avoid if he could.

"Nope. Not Moreau. This was … after. I needed a place to go … heal up … get my vibes together. Figure myself out. The southern part of the territory is all desert. The Warumungu took me in for a while. Good people," he added softly. "Beautiful place. An' the witchetty grubs ain't bad, either. Taste like scrambled egg." He suddenly grinned, his face lighting up mischievously. "Great big thing, like a fat caterpillar, an' you dig 'em up. Good raw or cooked. Roast 'em in the fire an' they turn yellow an' the skin's all crispy, like chicken. Mighty fine eating."

He eagerly shovelled in another mouthful of stew and bit off a large chunk of damper.

Hardison and Parker stared at him for long seconds, and then Hardison put down his plate, the food only half-eaten.

"You know somethin', Eliot? You are a very, very strange person. Yep. Strange. What's wrong with you, man? Eatin' bugs! Blech!"

Hardison lifted his plate once more, snaffled more damper, and shuffled along the big tree trunk and turned his back to Eliot.

One down, one to go, Eliot decided.

"Did I ever tell you how tasty a kangaroo tail is, Parker?"

Parker's face went from disgust to horror. She was quite fond of kangaroos, especially when she had seen a documentary about orphan kangaroo joeys at a sanctuary near Alice Springs. She was prone to a surfeit of fluffy feelings when cute orphans came into the mix.

Eliot opened his mouth to continue, thinking eating goanna might just be a suitable subject, but Parker jumped up, covered her ears, yelled "LALALALA!" very loudly and took herself – and her stew – off to sit beside Hardison.

Eliot smirked, and scraped the last of the stew onto his plate. Pissin' off Hardison and Parker sure made a man hungry.

An hour later the sun was setting.

Here in the great wilderness of Eagle Cap, Oregon, the landscape of great peaks and scattered forests of engelmann spruce, mountain hemlock and whitebark pine sprawled majestically around the three humans camped above a nameless cliff, located far from the well-hiked pathways further along the mountain range.

Eliot, Parker and Hardison sat watching the drift of red to gold to darkening purple as the sun dropped lower in the autumn sky. Nursing cups of Eliot's hot chocolate, Hardison and Parker had finally forgiven Eliot his gross food conversation, and they had to discuss what the plans were for the following four days.

A grateful client from the Bureau of Land Management had arranged for them to be flown by helicopter up into the high alpine landscape, and Eliot had planned for them to take four days to hike back down to where they had parked Lucille.

He had it all worked out. It wouldn't be a dawdle, but it wouldn't be beyond either Hardison or Parker, and the scenery was wild but breathtaking. Their route was set, they were very well equipped for the trip, and best of all, they had Eliot. He knew these mountains, and he knew how to survive in them.

And from Eliot's point of view, the lack of wi-fi and telephone service meant that there would be no earbuds, cell phones, laptops and World of Warcraft. Sheer, unadulterated bliss. They had flares, Eliot knew the safety procedures, and he had logged their route and ETA with the Ranger Service. They were all set.

"So … Eliot." Hardison took a sip of his hot chocolate. "Whatcha got planned for tomorrow?" He secretly hoped the walking would be all downhill. He didn't do mountains or uphill in any shape or form.

Eliot didn't bother bringing out the map. Without GPS, Hardison couldn't find his way out of a men's room.

"We follow the cliff along, then work our way down for a few miles to another ridge, and then we start for the Minam River."

"Oh." Parker said softly. "And … what is there to do, exactly?"

Eliot frowned.

"Well, the walkin' is pretty good. Fairly easy going. An' we might see elk, or whitetail. Or even a bighorn if we're lucky."

Parker's eyes widened.

"What has big horns?" She asked nervously.

Hardison sighed.

"It's a sheep, Parker." Honestly. She could be so … so … odd, sometimes. Well, most of the time, he mentally corrected himself.

Parker's jaw dropped.

"Sheep have horns? BIG horns? Do they eat people?"

Eliot took a deep breath to rally his patience, a skill he had nurtured with regard to Parker. Especially after the horse incident.

"Yes, Parker, some sheep have horns, an' these ones are big sheep with big horns, an' no, they don't eat people. You're pretty safe from bighorn sheep."

"Promise?" she squeaked.

Eliot crossed his heart and hoped to die.

"I promise, Parker. And even if one tried to eat you – which it won't – I will dutifully turn it into roast rack of mutton with gravy an' collard greens. Okay?"

Parker thought about it, and then nodded.

"Okay."

"And," Eliot added, "there should be a big tree or two about that you can climb. How does that sound? As long as you don't break bits off it or disturb a wasp's nest, you should be all right."

"Really?"

Eliot nodded. It was like dealing with a five year old with no awareness of danger and a penchant for falling off things from a great height, which was something Parker did par excellence.

"Yep. This is supposed to be a relaxin' break with time to look at the scenery an' touch base with the peace an' quiet."

Hardison finished his hot chocolate and checked the pan for more. Parker beat him to it. Oh well.

"'Kay, guys, I'm turnin' in. An' sleepin' in my nice, lumpy sleeping bag on the hard, lumpy ground, in the cold, an' my nose will drip an' I just know I'm gonna be as stiff as a dead squirrel tomorrow morning." A thought struck him. "Squirrels. They got rabies, right?"

Eliot rested his elbows on his knees, watching the last hints of gold and red turn slowly into the blue-black of night.

"Go to bed, Hardison," he said softly. "I'll wake you first light."

Grumbling, Hardison settled down for the night, and Parker followed, burrowing deep into her cosy sleeping bag until all Eliot could see were a few blonde locks sticking out of the top.

"Eliot?"

Her voice was muffled.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Thank you. I had a great day. The best day."

Eliot smiled softly.

"You're welcome."

And within minutes both Hardison and Parker were sound asleep.

Eliot sat for a little while, enjoying the silence and the sense of space and distance around him. Here he could breath. Here he felt safe. But tomorrow was almost upon them and he needed to sleep. And, he knew, he would sleep well and deeply.

He glanced at Hardison, snoring quietly in the glow of the fire.

"Rabies," he said to himself. "You gotta be shittin' me."

And shaking his head in amusement, he cleaned up the cups, put more wood on the fire, curled up in his sleeping bag and fell asleep gazing at the drift of countless stars above him.

To be continued ...