Rating: PG-13 for language. There's nothing that you wouldn't hear on the show, but some of you might not be fond of hearing it, hence the rating. There's also mention of blood and brains splattering on a windowsill. (You have to make the badguy's death good, you know.)
Genre: General, but it's actually a little bit of everything - some action and humor, a lot of angst from Jondy and some M/L shippiness . . . no promises about how well written. lol
Spoilers: Some from season two, but those episodes have already aired in the US.
Dedication: For all of you who have given me encouragement along the way. This is for you.
The cat stood, her forepaws braced against the windowsill of the front passenger side window, glaring out through the cracked glass at a trio of dogs racing along beside them. Though they were caught up in the game of chasing the truck and were unaware of her presence, the tip of her tail flicked in annoyance, and the black hair that crossed her back stood on end. The warm night breeze that blew in through the broken-out rear window did nothing to distract her. Bracing her legs harder against the badly torn seat beneath her back paws, she raised up another inch for a better look.
"Honestly, Milly, why are you always looking for trouble?" asked the slim blonde woman who lay across the back seat of the old car. "Come on over here, I know you're hungry." She motioned with her hand. Milly glanced back at the dogs and gave one last flick of her tail, as if to say, "don't even think about it," before turning and climbing into the back seat. "I don't know why I put up with you," the woman said as she scratched the cat's chin. She reached into the backpack which lay on the floor, pulled out a sandwich, unwrapped it, and took a bite. "I'd say it was your pretty face . . . " she pulled off a piece of the sandwich and tossed it towards the cat. "But your face isn't all that pretty, and sometimes you have mouse-breath." She grinned. Milly flicked her tail, patiently waiting for another bite. "You know I'm kidding." She scratched her behind her left ear and broke off another piece for the cat, who helped her finish off a second sandwich in silence. Then, after giving herself a rather precise bath, the cat curled up against the backpack and fell asleep.
Well, the woman thought, at least one of us can sleep. The trip to Seattle was going to be a long one. By her estimation, it would be a few hours after sunrise when the driver stopped at the truckstop just outside of Seattle, the one she'd overheard him telling his buddy about. She'd figure out the details when she got there, but until then, this old wrecked Honda on the back of his rig was as good a spot to hitch a ride as any. She turned her head to glance out the back window at the stars, and for a moment, she let herself remember another night, so many years ago . . .
Running. Headlights. An impact. The memory of hands, of being picked up by a set of warm arms. Then, later, gazing up at the stars and treetops flying by outside the window. Lying, rolled up in a blanket, as her body, covered only by a thin hospital gown, warmed from the cold temperatures outside. Her feet warming after running barefoot through the snow. Wondering if they were following . . .
She sighed. It seemed so long ago, over half of her lifetime, to tell the truth, but it was always there, haunting her dreams when she closed her eyes. Of course, the last couple of years had given her more nightmares to add to those old favorites, but she tried not to look back on the pains and the mistakes of the past. She was tired of feeling those, and tonight she was going to look forward into the future.
Zack had been so secretive about Max. All he'd ever told anyone was that he'd found her, but he would never tell any of them where. He claimed that it was a safety measure, so that she wouldn't be compromised if one of them were to be recaptured, taken back to their own private childhood hell, and tortured until they spilled the beans, but she had never bought that. Whenever she'd talked to Zack, he would always say things about the others, where they were, what they were doing, but never about Max. Max was different.
Well, she thought sadly. Big Brother isn't watching anymore. And he wouldn't be ever again, and neither would Tinga. Closing her eyes, she said a silent prayer. At least Max was back from that hell that they'd taken her to, and, according to Krit, she was back in Seattle. She figured it was past time to pay a visit to her baby sister.
She let her thoughts wander on for some time. She didn't need very much sleep, and she'd be awake by the time they stopped, in any event. She wanted to be asleep when the sun came up the next morning. She couldn't stand to watch the sun rise.