the_gene_genie | OOM: Room 6620, #4

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OOM: Room 6620, #4

He hadn't dozed for long yesterday. And it had been another restless night, although not as bad as before - he still gave up in the end though, and slipped out of bed before Alex woke up. He thought she'd be awake by the time he got out of the shower, but no.

He went downstairs for a pint. Ridiculous really, at that time of morning, but he always recommended the pub after long operations that finished in the morning, so why should now be any different?

Of course, he got a bit more than he bargained for.

Which is why he's not trying to be quiet when he comes back into the room. If she wakes up, good. She needs to hear this.

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Alex's brow furrows as she follows his gaze. 'Is that another film I'm supposed to have seen?'

As far as she's concerned, cars are utilitarian in nature. Except for the ridiculously old ones that should really be in a museum and not on the road. She bought her Volvo solely based on its safety record, though Molly seemed intent on her picking one that wasn't as 'boxy' as the others. It was a flexible means of transportation, and an indulgent one at that.

It's not that she doesn't like cars. She just doesn't fancy them the way he does.

'...it's another film you're going to see.'

He does not sigh. Really. He's already walking up the row, running his hand along various smooth surfaces - until he stops, and laughs and points.

'Look. The Batmobile.'

The only one he's ever seen, of course. And surely even she must know what that looks like?

She should start keeping a list.

'...Does that mean that somewhere, up there, Bruce Wayne is having a drink?'

That question sounds even more daft coming out of her mouth than she imagined it did in her head.

'Dunno. Doubt it.'

He shrugs, and scans the next line over.

'It's just got all the motors from stories, as well as the cars real people actually own...look! Come on.'

He's off, pushing between a poncey Deloran that someone's stuck a half a kettle on the back of, and a posh looking Aston Martin. He's only got eyes for the bronze beauty parked next to the A-Team van.

'My Cortina.'

Alex's eyes have gone wide at Marty McFly's time machine, and 007's wheels.

Only the sound of his voice pulls her attention back to where he's looking.

'This is what you drove back in Manchester?' Her tone takes on a tentative air. It's a delicate question. Like asking about your current lover's ex.

'Yep.'

He doesn't sound anything but pleased to see it, and runs his hand over the bonnet as if shaking the hand of an old, and dear, friend.

Or, y'know. Another interpretation, as cars tend to be female.

'Haven' seen her in a while.'

Still loves her, clearly.

Alex crosses her arms, smirking at his pleasure.

'Should I leave you two alone together?'

No, she's not jealous. Not in the least. Not even -- okay, maybe a teensy bit, but it's soothed by the knowledge that she is the one with the real tits.

He shoots her a Look, but does take his hand off the bonnet.

'Been gone three years, that's all,' he mutters, a little embarrassed.

'Apart from one time I took it out here.'

One eyebrow rises, and she licks her lips.

'Don't suppose you'd like to take it for a spin? Just around the garage, not anywhere too strenuous.'

'Yeah.'

Of course he would. No hesitation. He spins on his heel, and yanks open the driver's side door. Keys are in the ashtray. He takes a deep breath, inhaling leather and years-old smoke, softened to something comforting and familiar.

'Mind the paintwork,' he says to her. He's something of an obsessive about paintwork and this car.

'As if,' she mutters, crossing around the bonnet, trailing her fingers across the hood as she goes.

She sinks into the seat, wiggling a bit to get comfortable. Something's off, and she knows what it is, but she doesn't want to mention it. Instead, she watches him go through the motions, and then glances up at his profile.

Something takes her, and she leans across into his space, one hand on his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss just in front of his ear.

He turns his head and smiles, just a little. Then the engine roars into life, full-throated and alive.

'Hold on to something.'

His foot hits the accelerator; the wheels scream as they spin in place. And then they're moving, leaving black marks painted on the garage floor, and the smell of rubber in the air.

She keeps one hand on his arm, bracing and laughing under her breath, letting the forces of acceleration push her back into the seat. It feels good. Better than that, it feels right, to be here at his side.

She lets her head loll back against the headrest, watching the garage lights flicker overhead.

'Try not to flatten any of our fellow patrons, love.'

She doubts he'll even hear her over the roar of the engine.

He doesn't hear her, and there's no one around anyway. He just goes for it, because the garage seems to stretch forever and he's curious as to how fast he can go before he has to turn. He's not bothered about checking out the other cars, he can do that some other time.

Of course, things get a bit hairy when what looked like a car in the distance turns out to actually be a wall. Still, he just laughs and grabs the handbrake, skidding sideways to round the corner into the next aisle.

Nothing she hasn't seen before, really.

It's crazy, how much she loves this. She remembers the first time she sat here, beside him, nails dug into the hand holds or the dash, gritting her teeth as he muscled the car through the streets of his kingdom. She was terrified that he'd kill them both before she ever had a chance to get home. And he always brought them home safe, always, without fall.

It became a part of her daily routine, strapping in despite his scoffed admonitions that it was unnecessary; letting the roar of the engine quiet her racing mind, letting the centrifugal forces push her out of herself. The Cortina feels different to the Quattro, not as powerful, certainly. But he seems to know it just as well.

She leans into the turn unconsciously, feeling the weight lift from her body and her mind as the scenery around them blurs. There's a rhythm to his movements that's comforting. Familiar. She sits back, elbow on the window sill, hand in her hair, smiling to beat the band.

Turns out she needed this.

'Love it,' he mutters under his breath, as he holds the wheel locked out. It might not be as good as doing it at home, where there is - occasionally - the danger of other cars, or pedestrians, to add spice, but it's not bad.

He pulls the Cortina level, and hits the accelerator again, flooring it and shooting back up the next row. Here and there, the spaces for the cars seem a bit bigger, like there's unnecessary room around them. He registers it somewhere, but thinks nothing of it...right up until he hits the brakes and the car screams to an abrupt halt.

He doesn't move though, for a long few moments. He just stares forward, as if trying to decide what he should do.

One hand braces against the dash as he brakes, and her gaze flicks around the car. Instantly, she's on high alert again.

'What? What's the matter?'

He frowns, like he's puzzled. Like maybe he didn't see what he thought he saw.

Then he slings his arm 'round the back of her seat, turns, and reverses back at speed.

She'll get it when they stop. He did see what he thought he saw. The reason some cars have extra space around them is because they're broken. There are bits hanging off.

He kills the engine on the Cortina, and gets out. And just looks at the remains of his Quattro.

She sees it the moment they pull level with it, and her jaw drops. The door handle is in the wrong place, and she fumbles to get it open.

Sure enough, the car she remembers they left on the flight line is parked here, riddled with bullets, shattered windscreen, looking like a battered warrior brought home on her shield.

'Bloody hell...'

He leans back against the Cortina, and automatically pulls a fag out. He's assessing the damage too, catalouging ever bullet hole and dent, every piece of twisted metal, because it takes his mind off how it feels to see it like this. He really loved that car. It's all part of the change, of course. Just like Luigi packing up and moving on. No loose ends. But the difference is, he'd got rid of the Cortina willingly after Sam. He wasn't ready to lose the Quattro, and everything that went with it.

So he can't help the sadness that washes through him when he sees it like this. He had thought, just maybe, he might find it here again - but he thought it'd be whole. Not like this.

Alex walks towards it, reaching out one hand to touch the roof on the passenger side, running her fingers over the damage like she's touching an old friend.

It does feel like she's looking at the devastation they're both feeling.

She bends to glance inside, careful of the broken glass and jagged edges of metal. There's shards of glass everywhere, reminding her of the state of his bath when she arrived. Everything is covered in it. It takes her a few minutes to make a full circuit, at least as long as it takes him to finish that cigarette.

Eventually, she arrives back where she started, and she unconsciously mimics his pose, leaning against the passenger door, looking at him, wondering if he's thinking what she's thinking.

He watches her touching it, and walking around, and he doesn't move. He has no desire to see the ruin up close.

She leans next to him, and he drops the dead fag butt to his feet, and grinds it under his foot even though it doesn't need it.

'Come on.'

He turns to open the driver's door.

Puzzled, she eyes the parking slot again, marking down what aisle they're in, and if there's a number, she notes that as well.

'Ever worked on your own car before?'

It's a gentle question, because she doesn't know where he's at right now. He may just want to walk away from it all, and forget it, too.

He pauses, and glances over to her.

'Not with anythin' like that. Wouldn't know where to start.'

He gets back in the car that works, and waits for her to join him.

'If it's stopped raining, we can go out for that walk, if you want.'

'Yeah, okay.'

She settles in again, glancing back at the Quattro again before they pull away.

Her lips pull thin, her mind racing.

'If they have garage bays here, maybe they have other facilities for mechanics? A body shop, maybe? The rest is just parts and tools, hmm? Maybe there's even a mechanic-on-duty or somesuch?'

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