song_tra_bong | (no subject)

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Mary Anne is pretty sure she's found the right world. That knowledge isn't as comforting as she'd thought it would be.

The trail leads her to a hotel, where she almost drops the ball. The description of the man sounds like Ramon, but the presence of two kids throw her. She almost lets it go.

Almost.

But then she figures the guy could be mistaken, or maybe it's part of Ramon's cover, or maybe...

She follows the lead.

Ramon (she's assuming it's Ramon) did a good job of covering his tracks. But there are still things to point the way: someone cleaned the cabin, stocked it with food. Even false names on rental paperwork are names, and they're names she's seen before.

(Spain, France, Switzerland)

She doesn't think she's assuming any more.

She rents a motorcycle, an offroad number with chunky tires and an engine that growls like a bear. She rides it most of the way up the mountain, before parking it and hiding it off the side of the road. She continues the rest of the distance on foot.

There's a gun in the small of her back, money and ammo in the bag at her hip; knives in all the usual places. She thinks she's right, but it's important to be prepared.

She steps up onto the porch, careful not to let the boards creak, then knocks on the door.

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'I'm not stupid.'

In this case, he's actually thinking more of the boys - he hasn't been eating much for a while but he knows they'll complain like motherfuckers if they don't get fed regularly. He looks out of the window.
Of course you do. You wouldn't be here otherwise.
'They'll be back soon, it gets dark pretty quickly up here. Unless they're trying to make a run for it. Get yourself something if you like, sounds like you've had quite a trip.'

"I'll make something in a minute; 'm gonna enjoy being a lazy bum for a bit longer," she replies.

After a sip of coffee, she wonders, "Your boys know how to hotwire?"

He snorts.

'I doubt it. Can't imagine they get lessons on that at their school and I've never taught them. Hector might have I guess - why?'

"Got a bike parked about halfway down, just off the trail," she explains.

"I got the keys, but..." She shrugs. "Figured I'd ask."

'They couldn't find their asses with both hands and a map.'

He has another drink and thinks about it.

'Fuck 'em. If they find it and know what to do with it, they'll get lost once it gets dark anyway. Not a problem.'

Mary Anne debates making a parenting joke, decides against it.

"How long you been up here?"

Wise choice.

'Couple of weeks. They're slow work. We can go and get your bike if you want and bring it up. Save you having to walk back down later.'

Besides, he doesn't wnat to be sitting around in here. He gets restless.

They--the boys are the business.

"Sure."

She tosses back the last of her whiskey-coffee and stands up.

It wouldn't occur to him that that wasn't obvious - would anyone really believe he was up here with them just because he wanted to spend time with them? Surely not.

He takes another shot of whiskey for the road, grabs his keys and heads out to his SUV. One side of the vehicle is scratched all to hell. There's a coat on the passenger seat and he hands it to her.

'Here. It'll be pretty cold soon.'

She adds the car to to her mental list of things not to ask about.

"Thanks," she says, slipping the coat on and hopping into the passenger seat. The sleeves are long enough on her to cover her hands, but it's comfortable.

He nods once and guns the engine, pulling off fast enough to make the wheels spin. Another thing she probably doesn't want to consider is how much he's drank today.

'Yell if you see them. How far down's your bike?'

At least he can't kill her, right?

"Not too far, rode it more than halfway up. Pulled it just off the road on the right hand side--left, for us."

'OK.'

He stays quiet then because its occurred to him that he just asked her to stay for a few days. And in all the years he's known her, he can't think of one time when they've spent a night under the same roof together before. Not that it means anything, of course, it's just...something he's thinking about.

And then he's smirking because after a minute or two of driving at breakneck speed down the very steep hill, he can see two figures running up it. Dusk has come on rapidly and it's a bit more than chilly when he slows up and rolls the window down.

'If you don't get in before we get back, forget about dinner.'

The window rolls back up and he turns up the heating a notch.

'Exercise'll do them good,' he tells Mary Anne.

"Hunger's a good motivator," she says, tone light and neutral.

She squints down the hill, then points at a smudge of color just off the road.. "Slow down a bit, think that's it over there."

He swings the car over to the left and stops.

'Race you back up.'

She grins, bright and fierce in the failing light.

"You're on. Race starts when my engine does."

Not that she's expecting him to hold to that, but she figures it can't hurt to try. She's out of the car before he can protest, door slamming shut behind her and vanishes into the brush.

'Bitch,' he mutters to himself, good-humouredly, and tries to turn the car. Trouble is, the road isn't wide and isn't really a road at all - it takes a bit of manouvering to get the SUV pointed in the right direction again. As soon as it is though, he hits the gas and just lets it fly.

The maneuvering buys her the time she needs.

When Ramon guns the engine of the SUV, there's an answering roar from nearby and a red-and-black blur shoots through the bushes and uphill.

'Fuckfuckfuck.'

The bike will have the advantage here; it's just faster off the line and easier to zip 'round the bends. He knows that but it doesn't stop him trying his best - Christ, he's lucky to stay on the road at some points.

She glances back to see how he's doing and nearly tumps the damn bike over. She salvages it, though, shrieking with laughter as she goes.

Some part of her brain remembers that she should be more worried about his safety--no helmet and no real desire to patch up a staved-in skull--about his safety, but mostly she's focused on the fact that she's doing something stupid and fun with her friend. That's all that matters right now.

He doesn't give safety a second thought, he's just enjoying himself for the first time in ages. When she nearly tips the bike he makes up ground, hitting the horn as he closes in and rolling down the window to yell shit at her for no other reason than its fun. She'll probably win this race but who cares? There's not much road left now and he wishes there were more.

She yells back, a stream of laughter and incoherent insults, before gunning the engine again.

(Next time, she thinks, we start at the bottom.)

He can't hear what she said but the fact that she was yelling at all makes him laugh as he hits the gas so hard the wheels are struggling for purchase on the hill. She's ahead and he won't catch her but that doesn't stop him doing a truly impressive handbrake turn when he nears the cabin, skidding 180 degrees to park outside the front door. Just to show off, naturally.

Fuck yeah that was fun.

She skids to her own impressive stop--impressive, at least, until she falls on her ass getting off the bike.

The price of operating heavy machinery while laughing.

He nearly doubles over for a second - there's nothing more hilarious than unexpected falls when you're already hyper. He is nice though and instead of hurling more abuse, goes over to help her up.

'Idiot. Can drive but can't walk. How does that work?'

OK, maybe a bit more abuse.