They never really looked like they should be together, the punk girl and the soldier. Age, music, style, clothing, bearing, attitude, all said no. A grand tour of Port Hedland proved that, where no one knew them.

Now, as evening closed in, and the sun headed towards the sea, they sat on an isolated stretch of Eighty Mile Beach. Shawna was not really the beach type, and while it was cool enough that his ancient Doors hoodie didn’t quite appear out of place as it enveloped her, if there was even anyone to see, the black leggings under shorts that had to have once been a pair of Bridgette’s black tactical pants really didn’t qualify as beach-ware.

As the breeze kicked up, she leaned back into his bare chest, watching the waves, listening to music through the ever present headphones. He sat, staring out to see, clothed only in a pair of old cargo shorts, and a Queensland Tech cap Bridgette had bought him a lifetime ago, his supernatural body heat enough to warm them both. He’d stopped and got a couple fishing poles that sat abandoned off to their right, before bringing her to this last stop where Dad had taught him and Bridgette to fish, and he tried a couple times to take the two youngest kangaroos to learn before he left for basic, but it hadn’t been the same, and he didn’t have the patience then, or the appreciation.

Last night in the barn, and today, showing Shawna some of the old memories had been strange, some of the places were still there, but out of place as much as the town had grown, changed. Or maybe he’d changed. The old ice cream place he remembered as a kid, that had been especially lame, the nudist beach where he and Brij had rolled some of the old pervs who liked to stand around and watch back in the day, Shawna had laughed uncontrollably at that.

Before they had come out here to “fish,” it hadn’t been all pure fun and relaxation. For some reason, he’d taken her by the old dive bar where he’d had to pick Dad up, at least once a month after he’d turned thirteen and he’d answer the phone before Mom. He’d stopped calling by the time he turned sixteen, which had made him even angrier and more ashamed and they’d yelled and fought even more until the day Mom signed the papers and he told him to root off and die.

Even though that had brought a huge surge of anger, he’d recovered, and well, stopped at a spot for an early eighteenth birthday present for Shawna. Before they’d left the house, he’d found an old concert T-shirt Bridgette had given him that he’d never worn, she’d responded with, “Who the fuck is Area-7?” He’d just smiled no matter how much she punched him, after he had grabbed her phone so she couldn’t look anything up. He’d just laughed all day as she took one cassette after another and slammed it into the deck, barely lasting a song, if that, whining about the dark ages.

While he’d been amazed at the changes to the port in the last few years, well, the last fifteen since he’d so rarely come back since he’d left. He’d really begun to question some of those memories too, and didn’t really know if it was change or just him. But the old music store had been there, and Brett had taken her in, shown the owner the shirt, and asked him for all the Australian bands with a similar genre. It had resulted in a thirty minute discussion that frankly had not been in English or any other language Brett understood. It would have also far surpassed the cash Brett had brought, but that was what American Express was for apparently, when she bought a dozen cassettes for the car, twice as many vinyl’s to take home, and the three t-shirts the guy had in the store. When they had gotten to the car, his comment of “patience as virtue” was met with a smack to the face before her excitement turned to activities that made him glad the Camaro was not a convertible parked on a public street, even in a relatively less populated part of downtown.

Now they were on the beach, Shawna with her one earbud in, listening to a bunch of new Australian ska downloads with a running commentary about ska from the United States. He didn’t really care that he didn’t understand any of it, he was happy and relaxed as she leaned into him watching the waves. Besides, if any emergency occurred, Whitley could always communicate directly and since she hadn’t all day, they had plenty of time.