Richard glanced around the crowded market area of Adelaide again, hoping that Paul and Tim had appeared in the last five seconds. They hadn't. Rich sighed and sat down on his guitar case. He felt very left out of the group - even though there were only three of them. Tim and Paul always had something to do together, and they never took him with them.
I wonder what they do when I'm not around, Rich thought. Why do they always show up late? Why do they keep disappearing together? And why do they keep exchanging those weird looks? Is there some joke he hasn't been told about between them? Rich was often the bunt of people's practical jokes - his innocent and trusting nature made him an easy target.
I'll get my own back, he thought suddenly. I'll teach them a thing or three! I'll stage my own kidnapping, then they'll be sorry. The more he thought about it, the better it seemed. Grand thoughts like this didn't often come to Rich, so he wrote it down before he could forget. Unfortunately he lost the paper before he even stood up, but for once the idea stuck with him.
Rich glanced around for the last time. Paul and Tim still weren't there so he picked up his guitar case and left.

Paul and Tim got to the meeting place exactly 3 minutes later, laughing and joking about what a good time they had just had at the hotel, and how mad Rich was going to be. But Rich wasn't there. Paul and Tim did a quick double take. Rich was always there waiting for them� so where was he? Tim glanced uncertainly at his watch. They were nearly two hours late.
"Where is he? We're earlier than usual," Tim grumbled. Paul nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, fucking ungrateful wanka, he doesn't give a toss about all the stuff we do for him," Paul growled, conveniently forgetting that neither he nor Tim had ever done a single thing for Rich that didn't somehow benefit themselves.
"Well fucked if I'm waiting around here," Paul declared. Tim turned to face the noticeably shorter man.
"What do you want to do instead?" He asked, pretending to be innocent. Paul looked him up and down coyly.
"I have a few ideas," he replied with a grin, " and one of them involves us returning to the hotel." Tim returned the evil grin and they turned and headed back the way they came, never noticing when Paul stepped on a piece of paper with hurried, messy writing.

Meanwhile Rich was having trouble. It was getting dark, and he was in a city he didn't know with no one to help him. Besides, he was scared of the dark.
Whimpering to himself, he blindly followed one street after another. Before he knew it, poor Rich was completely lost. Not that he had any idea where he was to begin with�. Or how anyone could actually get lost in Adelaide.
Rich was walking down Hindly Street at about midnight, wondering whether to ask the serial killer with the axe or the lunatic cowering in the gutter for directions when he was suddenly yanked into a nearby alley. The hand clamped over his mouth was the only thing that stopped Rich from screaming like a girl. His frightened eyes strained to see his attacker, but by then it was just too dark. Whoever it was, they were strong.
Suddenly it occurred to Rich that no one knew where he was (not even himself), and they might never find him. Rich did the only thing he did better than anyone else in the world. He fainted.

Paul clambered out of bed, leaving Tim to sleep on and headed for the shower. The little glow-in-the-dark radio clock on the table showed the time as being a little after 7 in the morning. Light was just beginning to filter through the window, and birds were beginning to stir. Paul hated this time in the morning - it showed too much potential - but he couldn't sleep. Something was bothering him. It was only when he went to wake Rich, to tell him to make some tea, when he finally realized what was wrong. Rich still wasn't home. Paul frowned.
Rich's bed was still unmade from when Paul and Tim had jumped on it yesterday afternoon, and if Rich had been back since then he would have remade it, even after sleeping in it. Paul started to get a little anxious. Rich was scared of the dark, and he didn't know anyone in this town. Where could he be? Despite what he said, and the way he treated Rich, Paul was actually fond of the dumbest member of the group, even though he would rather die then admit it.
Paul quickly scurried back into the main bedroom where Tim was still snoring away. Paul kick-started him with a well-aimed heel in the ribs. Tim woke with a snort.
"Wha-?" He exclaimed before Paul delt him another blow, which landed him straight out of bed.
"Get up, you lazy fucker!" Paul screamed. Tim stumbled to his feet, wondering why the evil dwarf was so pissed off, and why he was up so early in the morning.
"Rich didn't come home last night," Paul's mood suddenly changed from infuriated to upset and emotional. Tim momentarily wondered if Paul knew he wasn't a girl - he had the mood swings down.
"What do you mean, Rich didn't come home?" Tim asked. It was way too early in the morning for him to actually reach his usual IQ of 50. "Of course he did - where else would he be?" Paul's mood changed even more rapidly then before. He hurled the closest object, a vase of flowers, at Tim's head. Luckily Paul's aim was bad, so it went flying over Tim's left shoulder, but that didn't stop the little man from using his mouth.
"You stupid mother fucker!! That's the fucking point!!" He screamed at the top of his lungs - which was suprisingly loud for such a small guy.
It took ten valuable minutes for Paul to explain to a just-woken-up Tim what the problem was, then another to find Ted. Ted understood before Paul had finished speaking, and immediately dispatched a search party and called the police.

Rich woke up to the sound of a kettle boiling. At first he thought it was Paul making some tea, so he just lay there with his eyes contentedly shut. It didn't take him too long to remember what had happened last night though.
His eyes flung wide open, and he sat up with a frightened whimper, looking at his surroundings for the first time. What he saw sure wasn't what he expected.

Paul paced the small office in the police station, gnawing on his thumb. He was worried sick. What if this was all his fault? He never had paid much attention to Rich - only to insult him or give him orders - so what if Rich had run away from home? Paul let out a pathetic little cry as he realised that was probably the best scenario.
Tim watched Paul as he paced the room, getting more worked up by the second. Tim was just as worried as Paul, but he was trying not to show it. He was, after all, the cool one. Tim thought about where Rich might have gone, but his limited brain came up with not much. He knew the only one who could solve this puzzle was Paul.
Tim glanced over to where the little guy had worn a hole into the carpet, and was working on the wood beneath it.
"Um, Paul? I need your help mate�" Tim began but was quickly cut off by Paul's raving.
"YOU need my help?!" Paul demanded, incredulous. "What about Rich? He's out there on the cold streets, with maniac killers and psychopaths and his Mum ain't with him!" A sob escaped his lips and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.
Tim stared in amazement at the huddled dwarf. He had no idea that Paul was capable of any emotions besides anger, lust and disgust. He quickly hurried over to the small man.
Gently, he placed his arms around Paul, and pulled the sobbing little guy to his chest. Paul buried his face in Tim's embrace and continued to cry.
"It's all right, Paul," Tim whispered quietly. "It's all right. Let it all out. There's a good boy." Gently he kissed the top of Paul's head, and cuddled him up tighter.
Finally Paul's tears began to subside, but he was still terribly upset. "He's just a baby, Tim." He whimpered. Tim nodded, then said quietly, "He needs your help, Paul. You have to think where he could be. You have to calm down." He didn't add that Rich's life might depend on it.
Paul nodded, and with a sniff, pulled his head up off of Tim's chest. The two gazed into each other's eyes. It was that exact moment the detective decided to show up. He stared at the two huddled figures for a minute before coughing awkwardly.
Paul and Tim quickly scrambled to their feet and declared in a very manly way, "Just had something in my eye."
The detective decided to let it pass. He turned his attention back to the case at hand.
"Are you Paul McDermott and Tim Ferguson?" he asked the two. When they both nodded he continued.
"You are in a band with Mr Fidler, am I right?" Again, they both nodded dumbly.
"Was Richard unhappy in the band? Did he ever voice feelings of regret or remorse?" Paul and Tim looked at each other for a moment, before shaking their heads.
"Rich was the happiest guy in the world. He loved the band," Paul added for emphasis. Another sob was rising in his throat as he thought of poor Rich dying out on the streets, but he forced it down, telling himself that they would find him soon.

Rich was in a fluffy, pink room. He was sitting on a huge double bed, with the cutest little pictures he had ever seen. It was definitely a girl's room, but Rich was strangely attracted to it.
He got up slowly from the bed and wandered over to the dressing table. There were lots of cosmetics and hairbrushes, but what caught his attention the most was (besides the adorable toy bunny perched on its side) the photos.
All lined up in a row. In most of them was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. She had a warm and friendly smile, deep blue eyes and the longest, goldest hair in the world.
"Oooohhhh�" he breathed. Suddenly there was a noise behind him, and someone said very clearly, " See anything you like?"
Rich whirled around so fast he fell over, helpless to defend himself from whoever was standing behind him. Rich looked up and gasped.

The detective, satisfied with the information supplied from Paul and Tim, left the office. Tim sat down and cradled his head in his hands, trying to gather his thoughts. Paul watched from the other side of the room, feeling something he had never felt before: helpless. He hated the feeling. He had to find something to do. He had to get Rich back.
But where to start? Paul concentrated for a minute. Well, they could always check for clues at the market place, where they were supposed to meet Rich.
"Come on Tim, let's go," Paul growled as he headed out the door. Paul very rarely gave explanations, but Tim was used to it. He followed with out question, hoping that Paul knew where Rich might be.

It was the girl from the pictures, but now that Rich saw her in real life, not only was she prettier than ever, Rich recognized her.
It was�..

Paul glanced behind him to where Tim was talking to on eof the stall owners, asking if they'd seen Rich. Paul could see it was a waste of time. He doubted the owner even knew any English, let alone spot someone out of so many faces.
Paul turned and headed to where the three of them had agreed to meet yesterday. They were going to go busking, but now it looked like they might never again. Paul refrained from letting the tears flow.
"I'll never be nasty to him again, God, I swear�" he whispered. He placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes, so that if he did start to cry, no one would see.
Once he was sure he was under control, he opened his eyes, but something stopped him from getting up. There was a small, folded piece of paper with footprints on it right at his feet. There was something scrawled on it.
Slowly Paul reached down and picked it up. He unfolded it just as slowly; afraid of what he might find. He breathed out a sigh of relief to discover it was only a shopping list. He chuckled to himself. What had he expected to find? A ransom note?
Paul chuckled again and let the piece of paper fall to the ground. A shopping list wasn't going to help him find Rich.
Just then Tim came over.
"They haven't seen him," He informed Paul. Paul just sighed and nodded; he'd been expecting that. He looked around, searching for some clue as to where his missing friend might be.
He noticed a girl staring at him and Tim. She was rather pretty, but she wasn't hiding the fact that she was watching them. Paul shifted uneasily. She looked familiar, but from this distance, he couldn't tell who it was. Probably just some love-struck fan I've seen before, he thought. It wouldn't be the first time. Normally he would go over and either try to chat her up or just pay her out for liking their band, but he was too worried about Rich to do anything.
Poor Paul: he didn't realise that if he had gone over to her, then his worrying would be over.

Rich stared up at Wil Anderson, who was wearing a wig and contacts. Smiling, Wil reached out and helped Rich to his unsteady feet.
"Hi Rich," Wil said calmly, as though everything was normal. All poor Rich could do was stare. Wil held up his hands in acceptance.
"All right, I know. It's a bit hard to take in at first, Lord knows it sure took me a while, but I'm more comfortable this way, and you have to admit, I make one hell of a good looking girl."
That brought Rich back to his senses - or what passes for his senses.
"What are you doing in Adelaide? How did you know I needed help? Where are we? Did you design this room yourself? It's gorgeous," Rich bombarded Wil with questions. Wil laughed and held up his hands again in surrender.
"Easy mate, one at a time," he chuckled. "I'm in Adelaide for the Fringe Festival, we're in my house, and yes I did design this room myself," he waved his hand extravagantly to show off the room, a cheeky smile on his face. But then he got serious.
"And I knew you needed help because I found this." Wil reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper with scrawly writing and footprints on it.
"Care to explain?" he asked gently. Rich refused to meet his eyes. He was grateful to Wil for taking him in and not letting him be buried in a barrel somewhere, but he didn't want to tell him what a misery the other guys made his life.
Wil could see that Rich wasn't going to open up right now, so he decided to work on it later. Instead he changed the subject.
"Care for some tea?" he asked politely.

"We'd better go back to the hotel, just in case the police find Rich and try to contact us," Tim told Paul. Paul suspected ulterior motives behind Tim's suggestion but came to the conclusion that perhaps Tim was right, and it might be good to distract himself for a while.
"Yeah, whatever," Paul agreed reluctantly, scanning the crowd once more. The strange girl was gone, and Rich obviously wasn't here so there wasn't anything stopping him from leaving, but Paul still felt this aching urge to stay. For some reason, he knew that if he was going to find Rich, it would be here. He shrugged off the feeling and turned to follow Tim, although he did gaze over his shoulder a few times. Tim had no doubts that when they got back to the hotel, Richie would be sitting there complaining that they were late.

Wil saw Paul and Tim leave, but didn't mention it to Rich, who was inspecting a cut soft toy nearby. When he was ready to talk he was ready, but not a moment before. Wil guessed that the other two would only confuse things. Besides, he was starting to feel a soft spot to the innocent DAAS member next to him. Wil had never been alone with Rich before, and had never realised what a nice person he really was; Paul and Tim had always made him look so dull.
Rich looked up to find Wil staring at him strangely. Not quite sure what that look meant (he had never been in a relationship before), he smiled uncertainly back.
While Wil had looked very beautiful dressed as a girl, Rich was glad he had decided to change a few minutes ago. Wil said he rarely dressed up in public, but today was special. Even so he had only been a girl for about 15minutes.
Rich didn't know it was so Wil could find Paul first without being recognised, then make sure that the other two didn't find him.
Rich smiled happily when Wil put his arm protectively around his shoulders. Rich had never felt like this about anyone before, but he liked it. It made him feel warm and gooey inside. He hesitantly put hi own arm around Wil's waist and was rewarded with a cheeky grin. Rich was beginning to be happy he had run away.

Paul looked around the hotel room dejectedly. The place seemed so much emptier without the third member of their group. Not even Tim's seductive suggestions could cheer Paul up. He went into his room and locked the door.
Tim didn't know what to do. He wasn't used to being rejected. He missed Rich, but not the way Paul did. For Tim, it was more like Rich had gone down to the shops for some milk or something. He didn't really consider the fact that Rich might be in real danger - and it might be his fault. He headed for his room to sulk.
In his own room, Paul was sitting at his dressing table, a framed photo in his hands. He hid it, and no one else knew he had it, but it was of the three of them. Paul stroked the image of Rich gently.
"Come back to me buddy," he whispered softly, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Rich was having the time of his life. Wil was taking care of him and giving him more attention than anyone had before, and that included his mother. Rich was feeling very close to Wil, strangely close in fact.
They were at Mount Lofty Summit, watching the sun go down, and Rich wasn't even scared of the on coming dark. Wil could protect him. Rich snuggled closer.
Wil embraced his new found friend, wondering if Rich wanted more than just a casual relationship, but realising that this was probably Rich's first time.
Wil gently ran his fingers through Rich's hair and softly whispered, "Rich? Do you love me?" Rich looked up confused.
"Of course I do Wil," he replied. "Why do you have to ask?" Wil stared down at the ground. He wasn't sure how to approach this, and he wasn't sure how much Rich would understand.
"I don't mean love like the way you love your mummy," he said slowly. "I mean love like�" he paused, thinking. "Like the way Tim loves Paul."
Rich took a while to think about that. He knew what Wil was talking about - he had peeked through the door sometimes when Paul watched his Porno films - but he was a bit confused. Those movies had always been about a man and a woman, not two men.
"Can you have that love between two men Wil?" Rich asked uncertainly. Wil laughed at his innocence, and gave him a tight hug.
"Of course you can, Rich," he said. "Just look at Paul and Tim." Rich thought about it and realised it was true. He considered his feelings for Wil and discovered, much to his amazement, that he felt the same way as Wil.
He sat up to face Wil properly. "Then yes, Wil. I do love you," he said clearly. Wil was overjoyed. He pulled Rich to him and locked their lips together in a long and passionate kiss. Rich was surprised at first, but only at first. Before long he surrendered entirely to the kiss.
Just when Rich thought he would burst from excitement, Wil broke the kiss, and began to nibble on his ear. "Let's take this somewhere else," he whispered with such passion in his voice that Rich shivered in agreement.

Rich awoke on the other side of the fluffy pink bed the next morning feeling better than he had ever felt before. Lazily he reached out to where Wil was asleep next to him and gently stroked his chest. When Wil didn't wake, Rich got up to make some tea.
Rich was used to getting breakfast for the others, but for Wil it was different. He couldn't quite explain why, but he just felt better when he made it for Wil. Maybe because it was because he wanted to do it for Wil, and the others had made him do it. Maybe.
Carrying Wil's breakfast on a tray, Rich happened to look down at the floor. What he saw made him gasp in shock and drop the tray.

Paul had tossed and turned all night (not in that way you sickos!!), and had finally gotten asleep at about 5am. Even then, he had horrible dreams of Rich in mortal danger reaching out to him for help, and Paul just letting him die.
Paul woke with a start, sweating and pale. He checked his alarm clock. It was barely 7am. He had slept for only two hours, but he was wide-awake. In fact he was suspiciously wide-awake - normally he wasn't this awake until at least three cups of tea.
Paul looked around. An unseen force was telling him to get up, to get up and go to the markets. Without bothering to wake Tim, Paul quickly dressed and left.

Rich stood staring at the photo of him and Paul, which had fallen out of his pocket last night. He bent down and picked it up. He looked around a little frightened. Why was he here? Why had he left Paul?
Wil came running out of the bedroom, but stopped when he saw the mess and the photo in Rich's hands. One look at Rich's face and Wil knew he had lost his newfound love. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he turned around and disappeared into the bedroom, before re-emerging with Rich's beloved guitar.
"Go get him tiger," he sniffed. Rich pulled Wil into one lasting embrace, accompanied by a longing, passionate kiss, before turning around and leaving the apartment.
Wil stared at the open door, his feeling of loss aching in his soul, but aware of the knowledge that it was only a matter of time before Rich had remembered Paul. Wil shrugged and went to see what was on t.v.

Rich hurried toward the market place, hoping against hope that Paul would be there. Rich reached the center of the square and gazed around, desperately seeking the familiar face.
They saw each other at he same time. What resulted was one of those slow-motion love scenes, with the two people running towards each other, and slow romantic music playing in the background.
They hugged each other so fiercely that Rich thought he would pop.
"Don't you scare me like that again, you little fucker," Paul whispered into Rich's ear. Rich just nodded - he was too happy to do anything else.
"C'mon," Paul declared happily. "Let's go home." Smiling, they headed back to the hotel, arm in arm.

Of course, the blissful happiness didn't last long for Rich. After about a week of undivided attention, for Rich, things went back to the way they were�with one difference. Whenever he was having a really bad day, or the others were being really mean, little Richie could think back on that special time when he was happy.

And I suppose you're wondering if Rich and Wil ever got back together? Well, I suppose that would make an interesting sequel now, wouldn't it?