Author's Note: This is my first story ever published on , and I'd like to give credit where credit is due. A few small ideas have been borrowed from two authors, Mighty ANT and Loopin' Lunan95: the inclusion of Leland having the middle name of "Faraman", and the general concept of a nearly anonymous superior going by "Smith" is inspired by the former's "Compact Cube" series of oneshots while human!Leland's death being actually crushed alive inside a car instead of the usual "oh he was shot/beaten" is taken from the latter's "Polyrhythm" oneshot series.

The title of "Survival Spaces" is derived from the term "survival space", which, in crash testing, refers to the amount of passenger area inside a car that will remain intact in the event of a severe crash, thus allowing the people within to survive. More survival space = higher chance of survival, lower chance of injury

Finn McMissile, Leland Turbo, Rod Redline, and any other canonical characters are the property of PIXAR.

It was an early British morning -hardly even morning, actually; it was more around that time when the night met the morning and gave way to the latter- complete with rain. A blue-gray Aston Martin DB5 cut through the near silence, driving towards a London hospital. An older man sat behind the wheel, his frosted hair longer on top and swept back elegantly, his features bony and feminine, sans his sharp jawline and pencil-thin mustache.

Even at this ungodly hour, he wore an expensive, tailored sharkskin suit, complete with black necktie. The man briefly looked at his reflection in the mirror. He was fully awake -and extremely nervous-looking. Although usually cool, calm and collected, Finn McMissile, the driver and an elite MI6 agent, appeared to be struggling to get a grip. His hands shook, his skin was even paler than usual, and his gunmetal blue eyes glistened.

As he drove onwards, he thought back to the news he had received around an hour and a half ago. His superiors had called him around 1:00 AM to reveal to him that his beloved long-time partner, Leland Faraman Turbo, had survived his "murder". He had been trapped inside a car that was then compacted with the British agent inside -Finn had seen the wreckage with his own eyes. He had been sure Leland was no more, but an undercover American agent had noted that there was a tiny amount of survival space within the cube -the crusher was older and ineffective- and had frantically freed the trapped man, his body broken and mangled, and since then Leland had been lying comatose in hospital. The caller had informed him of three things -they had refrained from telling McMissile earlier in order to avoid compromising the now completed mission, they weren't sure when and if Leland would emerge from his coma, and that the agent who had saved Leland's life had later been identified as Rod Redline, who went missing just a couple days later in Tokyo, where he was actually supposed to have met up with McMissile and another MI6 agent who had joined the Briton there. Instead, Redline had passed on the information he was carrying to an unaffiliated American accompanying a Grand Prix racer, and was since presumed dead.

That last part haunted Finn -to him, it was as if Redline had taken Leland's place in death. It left him wondering what horrible way they had dispatched him in -was he crushed in a car like Leland, or something even worse? Could it even be worse? He shuddered as he saw the hospital appear in the distance, knowing he'd soon be face to face with Leland -or rather, what was left of him. He finally arrived, parking his car and grabbing an umbrella, deploying it as he exited. He quickly approached the hospital, where a man from the agency was waiting outside for Finn. Visiting hours didn't apply to Leland -his survival had been kept secret, and one needed security clearance and a chaperone to see him. Finn greeted the man, another agent whom he didn't know.

"A Volkswagen Karmann Ghia has no radiator."

"That's because it's air-cooled." The man lead Finn inside. They walked towards the private hospital room where he was.

"Leland -how is he?" Finn asked in his Cockney accent. He always had a weird way of pronouncing Leland's name because of it; "Lay-land" instead of the usual "Lee-land". At first, it had annoyed Leland, but he had eventually grown to like it as he and Finn grew closer over the years.

"How much did they tell you over the phone?" The man tersely replied.

"Oh, hardly anything. Just that they got him out and he's been comatose ever since." Finn was trying his damnedest to sound stoic, but there was a trembling in his voice. The chaperone hesitated for a second.

"There's been a mistake, then. They only got most of him out in the end. They had to amputate his legs -it's a miracle, really, that he was able to survive." Finn went even paler.

"And he's got brain damage?" Finn sounded even worse now. The man nodded.

"What's the prognosis with that?" Finn's voice was audibly shaking now.

"They're not sure of his prognosis. He may never wake up, if he does, there's going to be... some deficits, one way or another." Finn went silent, perhaps to get ahold of himself. Scenarios ran through his head. If Leland ended up a vegetable for the rest of his days, Finn wouldn't know what to do -Leland had been his partner in more ways than one. He wanted to marry Leland. Leland wanted to marry him. They both knew this, but it had long been a private secret -It used to be very hard to be gay in the United Kingdom -hell, they had fallen for each other during the Thatcher administration. Not to mention, fraternization between fellow agents was prohibited regardless of sexual orientation.

"Now, his room is just up ahead now, correct?" Finn uttered, breaking the silence. He sounded far more calmer this time around.

"Yes." Finn and the man stopped at the door.

"May I have some privacy? I want to be him with alone for a few." The man nodded.

"Thank you, I appreciate it." Finn, and Finn alone, opened the door and entered.