Before I Ran || Perrentes

Chapter 11: Fine Lines

"She wasn't always blind," Mike told Tony as they drove away from the cafe, having just removed their FBI badges from the trunk of the car. "She was born with sight, but she had a pretty aggressive neuroblastoma in both eyes when she was five. She had an operation to stop the cancer reaching her brain, but lost her sight for it. She's NEC for a long time now, but she's been blind for most of her life so doesn't really remember what it's like to be able to see."

"That's pretty sad," Tony said softly. "She seems quite shy."

"She was shy in high school too," Jaime nodded from the back seat. "Me and her and Chrissy used to have Geometry together and I'd haggle for their lunchables. Occasionally a chocolate bar, if I was so daring. But it took Lynn a long time to warm up to me completely. Once you get to know her she isn't reserved at all, she's actually totally outrageous. And her and Chrissy? All lungs."

"Between them, they have the most amazing voices," Vic agreed, voice filled with awe. "They're both trying to make it in music. That's why they're so broke. But I think they'll do it. Sadly, we're not really good enough friends with them to keep in touch in that way. We're mostly business."

"And Chrissy has a thing for you, huh?" Tony asked Mike, and he winced when he realised he sounded more bitter about that than he'd intended. Mike didn't appear to notice, and just grinned wryly.

"I guess so. But we always joke about it. We're never actually serious. I'm pretty lucky she knows hitting on me is fruitless. Most girls that try stuff on think I'm just saying I'm gay to let them down gently. Why do you ask, anyway? Jealous?"

"No," Tony retorted, and it was far too quick a response to be calm and collected, and his cheeks burned as he looked at the road ahead. Mike just chuckled to himself.

"Okay."

They didn't hang around in Columbia for very long - although the original plan had been to hit up a nearby hotel, with Tony's parents potentially lurking around every corner, they were anxious to get as far away as they possibly could. So Columbia, with its bright, towering high rises doused with rain, sat behind them as they joined the interstate before turning off forty minutes later at a motel that was suitably tucked away and far enough from the city to be deemed safe.

This was a nicer motel than the last one they stayed in - Tony figured that the closer the motel was to the public eye, the more upscale it had to be. Business was business. It made sense.

Despite Vic's grumblings, Tony was the first to jump in the shower. The water pressure wasn't great, the shower cubicle was a bit small and the ceiling light was glowing an off yellow as opposed to bright white - but it was hot enough and it had soap, so Tony didn't bother complaining. He checked over his body as he stood beneath the spray - his hip and his knee were barely bruised anymore and were certainly not hurting. His shoulder still hurt a little bit when he rolled it, but it was bearable pain and wouldn't exactly kill him. The bruises around his throat were disappearing, and he examined his cheek in the mirror - the bruise was vanishing but the cut was taking a little longer. The last thing he checked was his arm - it was feeling remarkably normal now, and he reasoned the bullet must not have been shot very well, certain that a better aimed gun would have caused more damage. The wound was painful to touch, and the tissue was bruised around the gash, but the muscle seemed to be healing well and Mike's stitches had been neat and tidy.

And without warning, Tony's brain flew to Mike Fuentes, and he frowned in surprise. Well. That was an unexpected train of thought.

He didn't have many deep thoughts, in that moment he thought about Mike. He just thought about him, and his voice, and his smile. Mike kept swimming into his thoughts like this, taking root in so many parts of his mind that it was actually becoming quite difficult to get him out of his head. And what's more - Tony didn't care all that much. What was weird, he thought, was how this whole situation had arisen. Let's face it - it was all less than ideal. He was on the run from the people who were supposed to love him. A nationwide, possibly even worldwide cult knew his face and wanted him dead. He was in the middle of Missouri, hundreds of miles away from home, without money or valid identification, and his phone was devoid of contacts exempt from a pretty young redhead who made her living hacking into computers and data bases and running illegal activities. He'd just made a deal with two other girls to re-programme a damn satellite and track it. The whole thing was, in short, nothing more than completely insane and terrifying and from an outsider's perspective, it looked as if Tony's luck had hit an all time low.