Drive

By: Spooks

~ ~ ~ ~

Quatre left the empty house. Twilight faded into night.

He walked to the small garage and entered through a side door. As soon as he was inside, he shut the door soundly and spun the deadbolt into place, locking the world out. For a moment he stood inside the threshold, leaning back against the closed portal as though utterly exhausted.

His eyes fell shut as he rooted in the pockets of his jacket. After a few long seconds, he slowly pulled out a pair of worn driving gloves, leather. Quatre stared at them for a few heartbeats, then in an almost-frenzy pulled them on, watching as his fingers emerged from holes at the knuckles.

He dropped his keys onto the roof of the car and paused, looking at them. Silver in the darkness.

Get away. Alone. It was better that way.

With a sudden, savage twist, he tore off the jacket, the cool of the night electrifying and comfortable in its bite. Quatre opened the driver’s door of the car and threw the coat into the passenger’s seat. He looked down at himself briefly in the gloom, noting his too-neat v-neck sweater and pressed black slacks, his white button down, long-sleeved shirt. Tiny golden cufflinks.

And then...the gloves. So out of place. Or maybe they weren’t. He decided that the rest of him was out of place. The gloves were fine.

Quatre smiled and yanked off the sweater, tossing it through the open door into the backseat. The button down shirt soon followed, trinket cufflinks stuffed in his pocket. For a moment he stood still, letting the shock of cold hit him again, making him shudder slightly in the dark garage.

He was glad he had the car’s interior roof lights turned off. He felt like he could stay in this cold darkness forever. All alone and utterly in control. He forced himself to stop shivering. That was better.

He left his white undershirt on, but he removed the belt from his waist and let out a grateful sigh as his pants sagged.

He leaned sideways against the car, bare arms crossed. Quatre stared at the gray interior, the black-tinted windows, the shiny black paint. It was a sports car, very fast and very new, but without the overly-ostentatious body of many of its peers. It didn’t draw unwanted attention from an untrained eye. Not that there were any eyes, trained or otherwise, around to notice. Just the way it ought to be.

He snatched his keys and dropped down into the driver’s seat, cold leather against his back making him shiver again. He allowed himself to go with the sensation. Nice.

The engine roared to life and the windows came down. He left his seatbelt hanging loose. It was useless; he wouldn’t need it. He was supremely confident in his ability to keep the vehicle under control.

Quatre hit the button that opened the garage door. No light came on when the door rolled up and away. He had taken out the light bulb.

And then Quatre drove, careful to take things slowly until he was away from the souless house. As soon as the building was lost behind a curve in the road, he accelerated sharply, his hand moving automatically over the gearshift.

The hum of the engine vibrated in his chest and under the soles of his feet. Headlights pierced the fading twilight as he took a violently fast curve.

A wide, almost angry grin spread across Quatre’s face. His teeth were bared, and the cold air whipping in through the open windows made his gums feel as though they were turning into lumps of stinging ice.

He shuddered against the feeling and gripped the steering wheel harder, refusing to shiver. The cold didn’t bother him. He relished it.

He was in control. He could do this. He could stay away if he really wanted to. Into the night.

He peeled around a mountain curve so fast the tail of the car swung around in a maddened arc. Quatre ground his teeth together and kept his speed up. To his side, the guardrail was the only thing between him and a deadly drop. Jamming his foot on the accelerator again, he watched the needle on the speedometer climb until it was hovering at 130 miles per hour.

Straight-aways were easy. But they didn’t last long. It didn’t matter though. He was the road, and he could deal with the curves when he came to them. He felt powerful.

Quatre hit the curve, decelerating so fast that the car shuddered underneath him. Tires squealed trails of rubber on the cold pavement as the vehicle fought against inertia. He laughed quietly as he forced another sharp turn, straining to keep his body in place even as the car did its best to cut over the edge of the cliff.

He knew they were worried. They probably should be. But it was his business. If he wanted to stay away, then they should leave him alone. It was better. He didn’t need it. It was better to be alo--

Twin headlights appeared in his rearview mirror.

They sliced out of the darkness as the vehicle seemed to pop into existence behind him. Or maybe had emerged from the earth itself?

Quatre lost his grin, the expression jolted from his face as a violent grimace took its place. The other vehicle had invaded his sanctuary.

But not for long.

He jerked the wheel, the car fishtailing as he wrenched it onto a side road. He hit the gas and was soon heading up over a small hilltop and down the other side, the bottom of the vehicle bouncing over a bump, almost scraping pavement.

The other car was gone. He was alone again.

He spared a glance down at his cold arms, noting their steadiness and lack of chill bumps. He grinned, feeling the air cool his teeth again. He was made of unmelting ice.

No!

The other vehicle had crested the hill. It was there. It had followed him.

Quatre gunned the engine again, feeling the roar more than hearing it, and sped on, pressing the limits of the car. He smirked and focused all his attention on the dark road, the headlights turned at the brightest setting could not illuminate more than a split second ahead of him. He was speeding on a knife’s edge. It wasn’t a game.

A long period of intense concentration, incredibly high speeds, and harsh corners that almost flipped him off the edge of the mountain...

He allowed himself to look in the rearview mirror again.

The car was closer.

Furious, Quatre slammed his fist on the steering wheel.

After a multitude of utterly random turns, he found himself speeding past his own empty house, lit up as though a party were going on inside. There wasn’t. There was no one there.

He had only been here a week. No one knew he where he was.

He hadn’t turned on those lights.

So who had?

The other vehicle was closer. 50 yards.

When had that happened? Why hadn’t he noticed? Was he that busy paying attention to the empty house that he had dropped his guard?

No.

Quatre took a curve, feeling the car protest. He almost lost control, barely managing to keep the vehicle on the road. He realized he was afraid.

Why was the other vehicle there? What did it want? It had to want something!

It was gaining.

Quatre drove faster still.

It was closer.

Quatre bit his lip and suppressed a violent shudder. Suddenly he was very, very cold.

Closer.

Quatre considered.

It was there. Less than a car-length away. RIGHT THERE.

Blinding headlights.

He reached up and pulled on his seatbelt.

Quatre slammed on the brakes, throwing the car into a reckless spin. Behind him, the other vehicle reacted. He barely caught a glimpse of it heading into spin of its own.

The world became a whirl of darkness and headlights as Quatre’s fingers gripped the steering wheel. White knuckles and bated breath brought the car to a complete stop. He shivered, drawing in deep pulls of air as though he had been rescued from drowning. The cold air bit into his arms and stole down the back of his neck.

The smell of burned rubber punctuated the frosty air. The other car was off the road, on the other side of a shallow ditch.

Quatre suddenly and fervently wished that it had gone off the opposite side of the road, over the guardrail, and down the mountain. Because now he felt obligated to see if his pursuer was still in one piece.

Why couldn’t he just drive away? The other car had been following him, after all.

Quatre didn’t want to deal with this. He just wanted to have the road and be alone. Speed and the cold...and total control, no compromises. He could do what he wanted, damn it! He always had! If he did something like this, it was his decision. And that’s what mattered.

So he decided to see who had chased him.

Then he’d decide on what he’d do with them.

He resisted the urge to wrap his arms around himself as violent shivers started to rock through his body. Instead he grabbed his jacket and hauled it on as he climbed out of his car. A brief check told Quatre that his switchblade was still in his left pocket. He wished he had a gun with him. Underneath it all, he knew he was still afraid. But it was too late for that, he was halfway to the other car.

His need to check the other person’s status flared up within him. How dare this person make him want to check, to feel obligated? The other guy had been chasing him after all. If anything, Quatre should be on his way, moving back through the night again.

By then he was at the other car. He put his left hand in his pocket, curling around his weapon, then leaned carefully against the passenger door. Quatre peered into the window, ready to jump back or defend himself if need be.

It was Trowa. Trowa had come to find him.

He was watching Quatre.

It just wasn’t fair. Why now!?

But was it such a bad thing? Quatre wasn’t sure anymore. Because he knew what Trowa wanted.

Quatre hesitated one long second, glancing out into the controlled night. His car sat patiently, as though waiting for Quatre to return to its inviting, cold solitude.

He opened the door of Trowa’s car, watching the dome light blink on. Quatre didn’t realize how cold he was until a wave of warm air hit his face, causing it to burn. It hurt, but it also felt good. Coming to a decision, he nodded to himself.

He sat down and closed the door, blocking out the night.

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