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Kyle was looking after a pair of wolves when his phone rang. The poor cubs had been picked up on their way across the channel where they had been destined to become wolf rugs. Both were very hungry and thirsty but it was not anything too serious. After a few days rest Kyle expected they would be well enough to return to mainland Europe where they hailed from and re-join their pack. The phone call had happened as he was checking their paws and he had to duck quickly out of swiping range to answer it. “Kyle here”.

The hospital told him what had happened with Wes. Kyle swallowed down the now familiar rise of panic in his throat and asked if he could come and pick his brother up. They had said yes and implied that when he got there they would have more serious information to discuss. What information that might be was anybody’s guess but since they needed to discuss it face to face it was almost certainly not good.

Fortunately Q was a reasonable enough boss to understand that picking you sibling up from the hospital was a task that could not wait and let him leave. It took Kyle half an hour to drive through London traffic and by the time he parked his fingers had gone completely stiff from gripping the steering wheel. He arrived in the emergency room and was directed up two flights of stairs. From there he found Wes almost immediately, sitting docilely in bed while a nurse with a legendary figure waited beside him. Kyle poked his head around the door and greeted Wes with a gentle insult “Hey there lamb chop. Wagging off school again are yah?”

Kyle Kirkland // Australia // Progress of a sort

Kyle liked preparing surprises as much as the next person. The whole business of secrecy, even though it didn’t come naturally to him, was still thrilling and he wore a mile-wide grin as they waited. Memorising the route to their destination was one of the more difficult preparations, but necessary because if Charlie wind of a GPS or even a more archaic map she would know instantly where they were going and the whole charade would fall down.

Charlie was young and had not quite mastered the whole ‘being cool’ act when faced with a trip to a surprise place for her birthday. In the corner of his eye he could see her bouncing in her seat and trying to ask Wes subtle questions that would give her a clue as to where they were heading. His brother however was world-class at keeping his lips shut (probably from all the practice he had as a child when Kyle was asked to feed him lunch) and was fending of her questions like a pro.

Kyle exchanged grins with Wes and carried on waiting placidly. He had already told Charlie to not talk to him in the car as he had to focus on getting them there and so only received the occasional query to see whether he had forgotten his instructions and would tell her something. He had to give her credit, she was sneaky and persistent and had the foresight to check the glove box to see if he’d hidden anything there. Thankfully he’d stashed their tickets safely in Mathilda’s pouch.

Charlie looked like she was about to burst with suspense. She glared at him which only make Kyle chuckle, he was enjoying this. He passed the camera to Wes so he could start snapping pictures. For this was a day that they would all want to remember.

The car was filled with the sound of rising tension as they made their way back to the house. With his nebuliser on Westley’s breathing gradually returned to normal. The slow recovery left his face bone white which, although by no means healthy looking, was an enormous improvement from the tinged blue that it had been. Daffy rested his head in the boy’s lap the way a dog might, offering a quiet but solid presence. Charlie sat silent in the back and bolted into the house as soon as they parked. Kyle trailed behind her, carrying the still weakened Westley up to his room where he was going to stay for at least a week and preferably a month if Kyle had his way.

Once he was on the bed Wes blinked and sat up gingerly. Rubbing his head he turned to look at Kyle and asked, as casually as he would if he had just returned from a day at school and thrown himself onto the couch in the living room "Can you make a spot of tea? With honey?"

It was these words that made something within Kyle explode. “Make you tea? Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself? Do you have any idea what I...” Words failed him. How could he explain the icy rage that was freezing his throat and threatened to spill out of his eyeballs? Didn’t he know how much effort his doctors, his mother, his family and Kyle his brother expended to keep him healthy? To keep him whole? Didn’t he realise that his mad escapade around London without his medicine nor his phone was a level of disrespect for their efforts that was akin to spitting in their faces? Didn’t he know how much it hurt to see him in pain?

Kyle hugged Matilda to himself and walked out of the bedroom. His normal boundless energy reserves seemed to have left him and he only made it as far as the stairs. He sat still there for so long that the dog, the parrot and the crocodile came over to see what was going on. Somewhere in the background he heard Westley’s voice but the cold lump of fury that was inside his throat prevented him from answering. Eventually he would get up and continue to straighten things out but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to speak to Westley again in the near future.

In the next couple of weeks I'm going to become very busy with a five week internship, extremely exciting but also rather time consuming. I probably won't be able to make the next AC but the one after that should be fine.

‘First I’m going to kill him, no first I’m going to make him admit that Phar Lap was Australian then I’m going to kill him. Then I’m going to make him eat spinach and watch Muriel’s Wedding and then I’ll’ Kyle’s plots of vengeance continued in this fashion as he drove as fast as sanely possible through the streets to get to Wes and Charlie. What in the name of all insane ideas was Wes thinking when he’d left the house without his gorram inhaler! Who did he think he was? An immortal god? Admittedly most eighteen year olds did think they were indestructible but Wes should have known better, he did know better. Most of the time he was careful enough with his health. But this time he had gone and left his things back at the house, even his phone. Charlie was the one who had called him.

Charlie. Was she okay? Kyle had known about Westley’s illness since he was young and knew what to do. But Charlie was just a kid, she thought Wes was having an asthma attack. On the phone she had sounded frightened, as anyone would be if they had not seen a person collapse before. From the passenger’s seat Daffy started bleating alerting Kyle to the crowd on the footpath. That must be them. He parked the car hurriedly in a no parking zone and made his way to the crowd. There in the middle was Wes and he hurried over to give him his medicine. Some sort of protective instinct belatedly awoke in the bystanders and they moved to shield the youngster, Kyle was having none of it. “What are youse? Good Samaritans? He’s my brother so you can clear off.”

Finally he reached Wes and slipped the nebuliser over his face. Westley’s eyes were glazed over and it was impossible to tell how in touch with reality he was right now but Kyle talked anyway. “I’m here Wes. You’re a dingbat. Don’t ever do that again.” Wes was shivering so Kyle reached out blindly for the blanket, the hand that passed it to him was small and shaking and he remembered Charlie needed him too. “Thanks Charlie, you did great. I’m going to carry him into the car now and we’ll get out of here. Okay?” Charlie’s eyes filled with tears of fear and relief, her saw the way she swallowed them back and determinedly followed him back to the car. They would have to talk with her later.

It really didn't seem fair. Donald, who had given so much so much to this country, would only be remembered by a few. Because M16 security had to prevail and while the civilians would undoubtedly know of the Irishman’s demise, they would never know the full extent of how and why he had gone. Such secrecy was incongruous with a ceremony that was supposed to be in remembrance of a person’s life.

Kyle sat at the very end a row, a mite uncomfortable in the black shirt and trousers he was wearing but otherwise perfectly composed. The ceremony was unfamiliar to him and he kept an eye on the program to make sure he knew what was coming. It wasn't that he’d never attended a funeral before, it was just that the Koori ceremonies were very different from Christian ones, though just as solemn. Today it was important that he knew what was going on and when it was going to happen, not for his own sake but for the mourner who sat beside him.

Donald’s dog sat quietly through the ceremony without putting so much as a hair or a paw out of place. The two of them had gone for a run this morning so Kyle wasn’t worried about him getting bored and causing a ruckus. When they’d first arrived a few of the other guests had glared at him for bringing a creature that was clearly not a service dog to a funeral. Kyle had held his head high and glared right back, Donald’s canine companion had as much right to see his master off as anyone else, if anything he was here to accompany Rover and not the other way round.

Once the initial crowd had disappeared they made their way to the casket. Kyle looked at the silly photo of Donald they had placed there and murmured a thank you for saving his brother’s life and a promise to take care of Rover for him. Even though there wasn’t much of Donald in there, even though the casket was sealed tight, the dog’s nose must have picked up on the scent of his master. Because he began to whimper, which turned into a whine, which turned into a single grief stricken howl for the dead as Kyle gently picked him up and carried him outside.