Protecting the Racers

by Dawn

(a gift fic for my sister, Star, who loves melodrama almost as much as she loves to drag me to movies.)

Note: This fic is completely written, and will be posted in six parts, once a day or as often as I can make the library computers upload. No internet at home makes things rather difficult.

Please review!

Part One

Trixie kept her head down as she hurried up the stairs, pressing against one wall to avoid the flood of people going the other way. She was still blinking away spots from the brilliance of the camera flashes, and it was hardly appropriate to be running away from the family in their moment of triumph, but she had to. Just for a moment. This might be her only chance.

Someone else should have been there with them all, should be sharing in Speed's joy. Racer X...Rex Racer.

After the last day of the rally, she'd been certain, as certain as Speed was when they first discussed it, the knowledge gripping her with the same excitement that burned in his eyes. Maybe it was only that she hadn't been with Speed when Racer X revealed an unfamiliar face...but she couldn't shake the belief.

Of course she'd always been a romantic. Drawn to hopeless causes, that was what the girls at school had said.

After Speed had won the Grand Prix, with all the odds against him, how could she feel any cause was hopeless?

He would understand why she'd vanished. Eventually, when she could explain, he would understand. With all the cameras, the reporters, he was going to be so busy, maybe he wouldn't even notice until she got back.

At last she got by the main crush of people leaving their seats, and made swifter progress up the stairs until she turned toward the entrance of the private boxes. She'd pulled the schematics of the stadium off the web and studied them thoroughly. First with Speed, to refresh his memory of the details of the course; and then, in a paranoia she'd been unwilling to admit, alone to memorize exactly how to get to the Inspector's box. To have somewhere safe to run.

She didn't put anything past the idiot man trying to fix the race, not after the events at Casa Cristo. Gunmen on the track and ninjas in the hotel room made a girl nervous no matter how swiftly they'd been taken care of. She'd wanted somewhere safe the family could go, just in case someone got the bright idea to take hostages.

So Trixie rounded corners like she'd been there before, and her adrenaline high battled her nerves and possibly her better judgment to keep her hurrying forward, until she came to a sudden stop in front of the well-dressed man guarding the closed door of the Inspector's private box. "Can I go in?" she asked, before she could think better of it.

The guard frowned. "If you want to talk to the Inspector, you should call his office later," he told her. "Anyway, he's gone to meet with the race officials about that spearhook. He's not here."

"No, I--I wanted to talk to Racer X," she said. Her hands twisted together of their own accord, but she managed to meet the man's gaze without looking away. "He has to be here, he wouldn't miss Speed's race."

The guard's frown only deepened, and she flinched, realizing he meant to turn her away. "Can't you just ask him?" she pleaded.

With a sigh, he reached for his radio. "Speed Racer's girlfriend is out here asking to talk to Racer X. Should I send her away?"

Racer. Nice coincidence that the family name was suitable for a 'nameless' driver to choose for unrelated reasons. If you believed in coincidences, which on the whole Trixie did not. Speed had taken the driver at face value--hah, nice joke there, Trix --but then Speed was a sweet boy who sometimes believed what he was told just a little too easily.

The pause was long enough that Trixie nearly died of asphyxiation from holding her breath and had to gasp quietly instead. At last, the radio clicked. "She can come in," the flat voice said.

Trixie thanked heaven silently, smiled at the guard as he opened the secure door, and went in fast before anyone could change their minds, especially her.

Racer X was standing with his back to her, his masked face reflected in the glass. The room was dark, the better to see the racetrack out the window, and the commotion around Victory Lane was clearly visible. She could see Speed, in his white racing uniform, and imagine his smile, though the room's screens that were probably showing a closer view had all been turned off.

"You should be out there with your boyfriend," Racer X broke the silence before she'd gathered the courage to do so herself.

She swallowed. "I was afraid if I waited, you'd leave."

He inclined his head in silent acknowledgment.

It would have been easier if he'd said something, like 'what are you doing here?' or 'what's so important?' But Trixie hadn't really expected him to make this easy, so she plunged boldly forward. She'd had a lot of time to consider the best approach, even if it didn't feel like enough now the moment was here. "Are you going to tell Speed he should leave the family?" she demanded.

He jerked to meet her unyielding stare, and although she couldn't see his eyes behind the dark mask the shock in his voice was all she'd hoped for. "What? No! No, of course not."

"But he's become a target now, hasn't he?" she pressed on. "Royalton can't be the only one trying to fix the races. With these victories, everyone's going to be watching Speed."

"True," Racer X admitted.

Before he could add reassurances, Trixie kept going. "Speed remembers as well as I do back when Rex was a target, and if you tell him we're in danger because of him, he'd go with you, because he loves us." Her eyes drifted to the distant white-clad figure again, and she had to force her hands to relax, because her nails were digging painfully into the skin of her wrists. "But it isn't fair, because we'd rather be in danger with him than safe while he's all by himself. And I want you to understand that." She looked up to catch his gaze again, in an effort to force her point--both points, really--into his stubborn head. "Please understand that."

The silence stretched between them with the tension of a rubber band, almost painful when it snapped. "If your boyfriend told you what he suspected about me, I'm surprised he didn't tell you about our last encounter, miss."

So much for her efforts at being subtle. "He did," she conceded. "Your new face fooled Speed."

"I assure you..."

"That's how he remembers his brother," she continued, because if she stopped he'd never let her finish. "The pictures Speed keeps in his room. And the driving. But Speed says you drive exactly like Rex, and there's no way he'd make a mistake about that. And I'm not much good with faces, but your voice, when Speed was in danger? It's the way you sounded the first time I ever met you. I've never forgotten that."

Racer X didn't react at all that she could see, which was itself reaction enough, because he hadn't flat-out denied it. "I'm not going to tell Speed, or the family, not if you don't want me to," Trixie said quietly. "Speed's more likely to believe you anyway, and he doesn't need the doubt. But there are things you need to hear."

"Go on, then." It was a good effort at amusement, but it fell shallow. "You've gone to all this trouble; you should say what you mean to." The masked racer had turned away, looking out the window again, and his posture contrived to suggest he was only humoring her.

Trixie swallowed, realizing anew just how nervous she was. What if she said the wrong thing, and Speed lost his brother forever because of her? But she had to try. "It made sense, when Rex--when you left, that it was safer for the family. But now, Speed's made us just as much a target, and if you came back--not publicly, but as, I don't know, another driver--it wouldn't add any danger. Everyone already knows you and Speed have raced together. And you'd be there to protect Speed. Protect the family."

He cast a sidelong look at her, a slight movement in the shadows. "If you're this worried about your safety, maybe you ought to think twice about your choice of boyfriend."

"It's not me I'm worried about!" Trixie retorted, stung. "It's that, if something happened to them," she nodded out the window, where Speed still held the attention of the gathered crowd, "and I wasn't there to help, and I could have been, I don't think I'd ever forgive myself. And I don't think you would forgive yourself, either."

Racer X turned away from the window, one hand lingering on the glass. It was hard to meet that black, emotionless stare when it was focused on her, but Trixie didn't look away. "You're a clever girl," he said at last. "The kid's lucky to have you."

She had no idea how to answer that, and the heat rushing to her cheeks made her duck her head and hope the blush wasn't too obvious.

"I promise you this much," the masked racer went on, "I am going to protect the Racers. Sometimes the best way to do that isn't any obvious way."

Trixie thought about trying to work out what he meant by that, but knew she was too flustered to have any real chance right now. "They miss you," she said quickly, before he could tell her to go away. "All of them. They didn't understand what you were trying to do, before. They understand better now. But they always missed you. Your dad said he was wrong to be so hard on you. He tried to fix the mistake with Speed, but if he had the chance I bet he'd try to do better by you. They wish you could come home. And you've got a little brother you've hardly met. You should come home, Rex."

There was a tightness about his jaw as she spoke that made her hope the words were having some effect. Slowly, as though she'd dragged the words from him, he said, "And ask them to mourn Rex twice? This isn't a safe life, you know."

"Mourning you again would be better than losing the only chance of making things right," Trixie insisted doggedly. "If it were you, and you thought Speed was dead--"

He cut her off, slashing one hand down sharply. "Enough." The word was harsh, but Trixie heard the underlying pain in it like a victory bell. She'd pushed, maybe too hard, but she'd made him hear.

The masked racer had looked down for a moment, regaining his composure, the emotional mask that, she suspected, might hide even more than the physical one did. "You should be with your boyfriend," he said with finality. "I'll call someone to escort you down there."

"All right," she agreed meekly.

A card in his hand, drawn apparently from nowhere. "And here. If there are any threats to the family's safety, contact us at this number."

Trixie nodded understanding, tucking the card carefully away.

"You can wait out here," he added, opening the door to further signal the end of the conversation. "Have a nice day, miss."

"Don't forget what I said," Trixie warned as a final shot, and left the room, her heart pounding as though it meant to leap right out of her chest. The door shut behind her with a firm click.

The guard outside tilted his head as though he wanted to ask what she'd said to the racer but was too polite, and commented mildly, "Exciting race today, wasn't it?"

Trixie took a breath as though the air might abandon her any moment, replied, "Oh, yes, it was!" and tried to think of some way to explain her absence without actually explaining it. Or lying. She didn't want to lie to Speed, not ever.

"You tell your boyfriend that we'll see to it Royalton gets what he deserves for that stunt with the spearhook," the man added.

Perfect. A good explanation, and even mostly true. "Thank you!" Trixie said, with honest gratitude. "We wouldn't know what to do, and I can't bear to think of him getting away with it."

The guard smiled at her with a fatherly sort of air, and they chatted until another man arrived to take her back down to Victory Lane, where Spritle and his chimpanzee were carrying on with such enthusiasm that hardly anyone noticed she'd been gone. And Trixie threw herself into the victory celebration, and hoped that the missing family member would make the right choice.

In the empty room, safe from prying eyes, he could have taken his mask off again. But at the moment, the feel of plastic and cloth against his skin felt more honest than exposing the face that was only his second and better disguise.

He could have watched the victory celebration more closely, but he didn't want the false intimacy the cameras provided, their job to make viewers feel like a part of the action. Better to watch from a distance. Rex Racer was dead, and a ghost had no right to take part in Speed's hard-won and honest victory.

A shadow in the dark, he watched until the Racer family departed to celebrate away from the spotlight, then reached to the computer controls and shaded the windows. The white figure of the first-place winner still walked through his memory, the brave boy who'd grown up so well. Better than he'd dared to hope. Whatever damage Rex Racer had done to his family, at least Speed had walked away from the crash unstained.

Then he remembered his brother confronting him on the track at Thunderhead, the desperate hope in Speed's voice, and the wordless lie his face told. The way the fire in his brother's eyes had dimmed, and gone out.

It hadn't fooled the girl, though. Bright one, she was. He hadn't really remembered her before, she'd grown up beautifully, but now she mentioned it he did recall the day he'd first met her as a child visiting Speed. Which had been the day the bomb arrived, the day he truly understood how much danger his stubborn pride had created for his family.

Would Speed come to a similar realization? It sounded as though Trixie had beat him to it, and had every intention of sticking with him like glue.

A smile crept unwillingly to his lips. Speed was lucky to have found a girl like that. One point the brothers had in common, because he'd never managed to convince Elena to stay out of danger either--his fellow agent, nicknamed Minx.

But Trixie was wrong. He had no right to wake the ghost of Rex Racer, a son already mourned and laid to rest. However much the family missed him--and he'd seen their grief after his death, he didn't doubt that was true--his presence would only complicate an already complex situation. They'd be safer if he kept on watching from the shadows.

The click of the door opening came without any announcement from the guard outside, and he spun to defend himself against the intruder. But it was only the Inspector, squinting into the unlit room. "Dark in here," he observed, stepping in and closing the door before he reached for the switch.

As the lights came on, he closed his eyes for a moment by instinct, but the mask did most of the adjusting automatically. It had its practical uses. Just like the face he now wore, he reminded himself. As Rex Racer, he would never have been any use off the track. Now, no one could possibly recognize him.

The Inspector looked at him curiously. "You're wearing your mask here? Is that wise?"

Racer X had no real reason to be at the Grand Prix, and he'd worn an ordinary formal suit into the track. The mask rarely left his side, however, just in case. He pulled it off, blinking at the new brightness, and returned it to its place inside his suit. "The girl knows me as Racer X, and she guessed I was here. I didn't want her to see my face."

"Yes, the girl," the other man said, with careful neutrality. "Henry mentioned she was here. Something she said got to you, did it?"

"No," he denied reflexively. "I just needed a minute to think."

A shrug, and the Inspector's expression remained placid enough to mean either Yes, I believe you completely or You keep telling yourself that if you like . Usually the latter. He was infuriating that way. "Well, if you're done thinking, I have some rather disturbing news."

News was almost always disturbing. Good news only happened to normal people; the Inspector never had time left over for it. "What is it?"

"Royalton," the Inspector said grimly. "You know, of course, what a favor your brother's done for us--"

"I don't have a brother, Inspector." The words came out with just a bit too much of an edge.

The Inspector raised his eyebrows. "Of course not, Alex," he agreed. "I'm sorry, at times I forget who I'm talking to."

It had been a mistake to draw attention to the wording, he knew. But Alex Ryder, his ordinary identity ever since Rex Racer had died in flames ten years ago, was an only child. "Go on," he muttered.

"Young Speed got us the evidence we needed that Royalton's driver cheated flagrantly," the Inspector continued. "But it's going to be a good sight harder to trace the fault back to Royalton himself, especially since the driver isn't talking. Royalton's lawyers are already claiming that the driver must have bribed the mechanics and Royalton knew nothing about it. And you know all of Royalton's mechanics are too frightened of him to give us any evidence."

Alex sighed, and nodded. That had been a waste of a few months undercover. "If Taejo Togokahn were willing to testify, we might still have a case."

"I'm looking into it. But more importantly, Royalton approached Speed Racer, and Racer turned him down flat. The boy's a hero now, any jury will take his word. If Royalton said anything to Speed that implied that Royalton Industries was involved in fixing races..." The Inspector spread his fingers, not bothering to lay out the logic they both knew. "You see the problem, of course."

His frown had grown deep-furrowed. "Royalton knows how dangerous Speed is to him."

"Exactly. According to one source, he's already promised a million dollars to anyone who takes out Speed Racer, on or off the track. That threat isn't going away just because Racer won the Grand Prix." The Inspector turned, and offered a bright smile, the one that always meant someone was about to be very unhappy. "So I'm assigning you, Alex, and your lovely wife Elena, as protection for the Racer family."

end part one