Stoking The Fire

Chapter Three

I could lie and tell you that I spent the next several minutes trying to piece together just exactly how this whole debacle went down. Or why Richards had betrayed me like then when I thought we were cool. Or even that I combed the car up, down, and sideways trying to find a way to get out. But, I won't lie to you.

After all, Richards was right. Given the chance, as soon as I saw an opening, I was indeed going to run. However, he had already mentioned it. So, that means that everyone else on the scene had likely been given some version of that same information, and I never would have made it very far. Also, I probably would have just made things even worse.

So, I'm just sitting here, hunched up in the passenger seat of Nick's car, eyes closed and trying to keep my breathing even, keeping myself numb so I don't panic. Not only was all of this way too much for my already scrambled-egg brain to process at this point, but images of him hauling me down to PD, and me getting slammed in a cell, keep intruding on my brain when I let my thoughts wander.

I also don't want to start crying, something I've been on the verge of constantly for weeks now. Normally, crying is fine, but right now my head already hurts bad enough, I don't need to add a migraine into the mix. I'm going to have a hard enough time dealing with everything else, and my brain is already fried. I don't need any more complications.

It's only this state of numb zen that keeps me from sliding out of my seat and onto the floor in a puddle of fear and angst, when the sound of a key turning in the driver's door interrupts the almost-silence of the car that I've gotten used to by now.

I can hear the exhaustion in his movements, the way he slides into the car and slumps into the seat. The small sigh he lets out when he reaches out to grab the door and shut it, and the slowness of the seatbelt as he pulls it over to buckle himself in. I can also faintly smell gunpowder now, which makes me wonder if he's the one who shot Jack. Probably doesn't matter now, honestly, but it's also not surprising to me if he was.

A moment of silence passes, then he simply says, "Seatbelt," in a short, clipped tone. I can hear the exhaustion in his voice now, but there's anger there too. A lot of anger, for just one word. I straighten myself up in the seat and reach for the seatbelt, clicking it in wordlessly as I wait for him to start the car and take me to the lab, or precinct, or wherever. He does start the car, but he lets it run for a few moments before he speaks again. His question surprises me.

"When was the last time that you ate?" I open my eyes and shake my head in confusion, frowning as I turn briefly to take in his profile. I can see a muscle twitching in the side of his cheek, and I turn my head back to front and look down, thinking for a minute. "I uh, don't remember. Probably this morning?" I say softly. "I'm honestly a little fuzzy right now, so I can't say for sure."

With a jerk of the lever he puts the car in gear, then maneuvers the car through the maze of parked vehicles, before turning onto the road and heading back towards the city. Several minutes pass in silence before his phone rings, and he picks it up as he's driving. I'm actually grateful he doesn't put it on speakerphone, honestly, as I listen to his end of the conversation.

"Yes. Yes. No. Yes, things have been handled. Yes, I'm going to take care of that now. No, only the one casualty. Alright. Yes, do that, we'll enter that tomorrow. No, just stupid and desperate. Alright, you too. I'm going to get some sleep, finally. You too. Bye."

I slide down further in my seat again, or at least I try to, but the seatbelt will only let me slump down so far. Silence permeates the car again for a while, until the growling of my stomach breaks it quite loudly.

"You need to eat." he states flatly, and I sigh.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Uh, I don't have any groceries in the fridge, I forgot to order some, but there's a convenience store at the corner of Grant and Vine, you can drop me off there. It's only a couple blocks away from home, I can walk from there and I'll be fine." Once I finish speaking I wait, but he gives me absolutely nothing. No words, no sighs, no nothing, just stony silence. If that's the way he wants to play it, fine. After he drops me off I'll wait until he's gone and then walk to the storage unit, take my shit, and find somewhere else to stay. I'm not sure where that will be at this point, but I'll figure it out. And from there? It's probably time for me to take a bus to anywhere, and get away from all of this.

I'll admit, even as we're driving, I'm still not sure that he's actually going to take me where I asked him to, and drop me off there. Part of me still expects him to take me to lockup instead. Once he drives past the turnoff to the lab however, I start to think maybe I just may be able to get away with this. I even feel a brief flare of actual hope as he finally pulls into the store's parking lot and slows down, stopping behind a car that's pulling out. For a moment I wonder if he's going to park and come inside maybe, but the car moves and he pulls forward... right out of the parking lot and onto the cross street.

I look at him and back at the parking lot and back at him again, but I can see that muscle jumping in his cheek again and I just close my eyes and sigh. Fuck. I knew it was too good to be true. Sure enough, less than five minutes later the car slows again, coming to a stop and idling, like he was waiting for something. I still flinch when he speaks, though.

"Code." He waits a few heartbeats for me to speak, then growls and says it again, through gritted teeth. "Code."

With a sigh, I finally speak. "168734." I hear his window roll down and the beeping of the keypad, then the creaky rattle of the gate slowly rolling open on its rusty, less than well-maintained tracks. The car starts moving again and we drive around for a minute, before he stops and puts the car in park. "Keys."

I don't make him ask twice this time, jerkily digging in my pocket and handing him my keyring, holding it by the key that unlocked the shitty masterlock that held the storage unit closed. I hear the door open as I stare out the passenger window, and I know what he sees as he looks inside. Three battered suitcases, two stuffed messenger bags, one grocery bag half-full of expired snacks I had wheedled from the convenience store in return for menial work, and one ratty sleeping bag spread out on the floor.

From the time he opens the back driver's door to the time he slams the unit's door closed, it takes less than five minutes to gather all of my things and toss them into the backseat of his car. I think the majority of it was spent trying to fold up the sleeping bag, honestly. He doesn't get back in the car right away, though. "Is the lock yours?" he asks, arms resting on his open window as he holds out the object in question.

"I.. no. Yes. I don't know. I paid $10 extra for it when I rented the unit." I state, briefly flicking my eyes towards him, then looking back out the passenger window. He yanks the door open and slides into his seat, handing me the lock with my keys still dangling in it. "It's yours now." he growls, before he starts the car and we take off again.

I have no idea where the hell we're going now, and honestly I'm too afraid to ask. I just watch the passing scenery as it whizzes by, hypnotized by the dark storefronts and lack of traffic as we make our way across town. I do notice that we pass several all-night food places, several them being his favorites, before he finally pulls into a fairly new 24 hour all-vegan place. This earns him a bit of side-eye - how did he? Again, brain is too scrambled to ask questions right now, and honestly I have no idea what is and isn't safe to say. I have no idea what he plans to do with me.

I can feel him look at the menu for a bit, side-eye me for a moment, then pull forward to the speaker. Once it crackles to life, I can hear that happy smile and easy charm enter his voice as he begins to order just a ton of items off the menu, and it provides even more of a contrast to the clipped, angry tones he was using with me. I remain silent as he finishes and pulls to the window to pay, and even as the young girl at the window does her best to flirt with him and not be flustered at the same time. He had that effect on everybody.

I of course become the food mule, but I can't really complain as he hands me all of the food. What am I going to do, say no? I carefully shove as much as I can on the floor board at my feet, then hold the rest in my lap as we drive away. Now, my attention is focused solely on making sure the food doesn't go sliding around everywhere, and I'm not really focused on where we're going. It's not until he pulls up in front of a garage door and he pops the opener that I actually make a noise of surprise.

He brought me to his house? What the hell?