OOM: Room 6620, #4

[the_gene_genie]

 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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[lady_bols]

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...'

[the_gene_genie]

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.

[lady_bols]

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.

[the_gene_genie]

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.

[lady_bols]

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.

[the_gene_genie]

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.'

[lady_bols]

'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?'

[the_gene_genie]

'Don't know.'

He's completely non-commital. What's the point of fixing it? He can't take it home, and it'll cost a fortune.

He drives sedately this time, just cruising along and counting the vehicles they pass in an idle sort of way. He parks up without further comment, and waits for her to get out before wandering back to the lift.

[lady_bols]

She follows in his wake, glancing back over her shoulder once before stepping into the lift with him. 'Well, you can't just leave her like that.'

Did she just use a feminine pronoun when referring to a car? Yes, yes she did.

[the_gene_genie]

'Why not?'

He leans against the back wall, and shoves his hands in his pockets.

'That's how it's supposed to be. It wouldn' have happened if it weren't.'

[lady_bols]

She doesn't like where this is leading, and steps right up into his personal space, resting one hand at his waist, her gaze focused somewhere in the middle of his chest.

'Yes, but that doesn't mean it has to stay that way. Looks like we're not the only ones that get a second chance.'

[the_gene_genie]

He looks at her steadily, implacable.

'It's just a car, Bols. An' you never liked it that much anyway. Leave it.'

[lady_bols]

'You're wrong about that.'

She looks up into his face, just as steady.

'I may have resented the attention you paid it, but I never said I didn't like it. It represented a kind of freedom you had, that I didn't.'

[the_gene_genie]

His eyebrows lift. She's getting poetic about the motor now?

'Well, now neither of us have a car. You should be happy.'

There's no bite in that, or meanness, or resentment. It's just a statement that points out their equilibrium, as she's just defined it.

[lady_bols]

'Well, I'm not,' she says, pouting as she smooths his lapels. She was jealous of more than the freedom it represented. She still wishes he would look at her with that much affection.

'I don't like the idea of you without a car. Something with a big, growly motor to run down the scum of Fenchurch East. There's something deeply wrong about the idea of you having to use a pool car every day.'

[the_gene_genie]

'I don't. There'll be a Merc waiting the morning after.'

He doesn't look at her with the same affection because she's not an inanimate object, and his feelings towards real people are quite a lot more complicated than towards a car. Blind adulation is not something that'll ever be written on his face, but that doesn't mean feeling doesn't run deep.

[lady_bols]

'Good,' she says, and her tone tells him she'll let it drop. For now.

Hell, maybe she'll go try and fix it up for him. On a lark.

The doors open up and she leads the way this time, heading for the back door. She cracks it just enough to check the weather, and then looks over her shoulder at him, gesturing with her chin for him to join her.

It's still cloudy, but there are patches of blue breaking through. The worst of the rain seems to have passed, and the path is only a bit muddy.

'Do you know what colour yet?'

[the_gene_genie]

'Nah. Probably black.'

Mercs in lurid colours just look stupid. And maybe he's grown up a bit.

He'll definitely throw a teenage strop if she goes anywhere near his Quattro though. And then some. He'd warn her off, only he doesn't think she'd get her fingernails dirty with engine oil for a million quid. So he just walks next to her instead, hands in his pockets and looking at nothing in particular.

'You have a motor? Where you're from?'

[lady_bols]

'I do. A Volvo S80. Silver. 3.2 liter sedan. It had a six speed automatic with traction control. I wanted the one with the sunroof, but they didn't have any in stock the day I went to the dealer.'

She falls into step beside him, hands in the back pockets of her jeans.

'Safety was the biggest consideration, considering Mols might be driving it when she got older.'

[the_gene_genie]

'A Volvo? Christ.'

Youch. He pulls a face.

'How long were you plannin' on keeping it? Still five years before she'd learn to drive.'

[lady_bols]

She squints at him, and shakes her head, trying not to grin.

'They last for years, Gene. And if you give a teenager a brand new vehicle, the insurance rates are staggering. I may be well off enough to live in the city, but I'm not -- I mean I wasn't made of money. And besides, I only drove it to and from the office.'

[the_gene_genie]

'Thought your parents would have seen to you. Do you still have their house?'

He reckons that would've probably been worth a bit. Of course, he doesn't know just how much London house prices will have risen to by the 21st century.

Ugh, Volvos. Practical. Safe. Beloved of bespectacled academics everywhere. No fun whatsoever.

[lady_bols]

'They did. Of course, it wasn't my house until I was eighteen. Evan and I lived there until I went off to university, and when I was accepted to Hendon, he took over the property. After I got back from six months in America, rather than move back in, Molly & I found a place close by, one less bedroom and a bigger garden.'

She feels like she's rambling again.

'I guess we're doing all right, by most people's standards.'

Molly will be well taken care of, for the rest of her life. She knows Evan will make sure of that, just like he did for her.

[the_gene_genie]

This translates to Gene, basically, as 'trust-fund baby', though he knows it's only the morbid equivalent. No one would want to come into money that way, and at least her parents had the foresight to provide.

'So your daughter will be all right. That's somethin'.'

[lady_bols]

She nods, her gaze fixed on the ground.

'She'll be fine. I was.'

It's repeated more as a mantra to still her own mind, more than as an observation of fact.

'And anyway, a Volvo is not a bad car. It's practical. The only people I know of in my time who drive like you are in the movies.' Her shoulder bumps his as she walks, a quiet touch of affection.