Disclaimer: I do not own Speed Racer. That right belongs strictly to Speed Racer Enterprise (who secretly want to hire me to one job or another, they just don't know it yet). I'm just borrowing their characters and the 2008 movie's concepts for my little one-shot. They'll all get over it and live.

Notes: There was a loose end that needed to be tied up. Voila! The socks.

Notes2: I now have Taejo's car, the GRX, and the Speed Racer necklace. Still looking for the Mach 6, though.

To Reviewers: In case my replies weren't enough – I love you all! Consider this for you, ne? D

To reviewer Racer X: Racing School?! Where?!And seriously, if you come up to my McDonalds (if you find it), and say "SerpentsAttire said I could have the SR toys", I will give you all the cars we have. xD. And as for that dare – it's now up to six (my theater makes so much money off of me), so only one more to go! Thank you very much for your review.

To reviewer Cassie: Sure, I'll do it. I've been begging my regular reader's for one-shot requests for ages. No problem. And thank you for the review!

Warnings: Utter and unadulterated attempted brotherly fluff, language, and possible abuse of the movie's timeframe.

Part Two

The vividly colored house had long since been dark by the time Rex had even considered the haven that was his twin bed. This small fact had gone unnoticed by his eyes during the hours he had soaked in the small bathtub in the bathroom he shared with his brother in hopes of ridding his body of the aches that had since enveloped him. The effort had, instead of bringing relief, called forward a stabbing headache that made him glad instead of hurt for the sudden darkness – the colors not withstanding, his father's lecture had wreaked murder across his head, and he truly did not think he could have withstood another round. But because of the silence accompanying the dark, he was now attuned to his body in much the same way as with the Mach 4 – the gentle thumping of his heart a nuisance to the new sensitivity, ragged breathing a grating on his nerves.

And though he loved his family and their brightly colored abode, it was for the reason that it was a relief to climb atop his fluffed mattress and between the cotton sheet and bedspread, surrounded by his poster-plastered orange walls that were dim in the night's light and no noise but that of his body. And though he appreciated that, the small blessing was also a cruel torture, as it gave his mind nothing else to latch itself onto accept for the horrific events of earlier that day.

The post-terrified whimpers of his mother as she clutched her youngest son to her chest, Pop's fierce, murderous glares as he stood between him and Speed, growling in the low way he did when he could think of no words to say. Twenty-year-old Sparky's shuddering in realization of what could have happened had fate been less kind, his disbelieving stare at Rex. The silence gave him the needed solitude to reminisce over the flip, to remember anything and everything that had gone wrong in the short amount of time he had taken his brother out on the track. To recall the sighs, to remember Speed's small body pressed against his, so sure in the safety his older brother was supposed to be providing. To remember the squeal of the Mach 4's tires as she spun, the horrific crunching of her metal against that of the track, his little brother's lifeless, bloodied body cradled in his arms …

That Speed had apologized for the accident – believed that it was his fault – made Rex more sick than any virus ever could.

'He was hurt,' his mind snarled viciously, and he took sadistic pleasure in his own flinching. 'If anyone should have apologized, it should have been you. You were the idiot who let him drive the damn car. For God's sake, he could have died!'

Rex's eyes slammed closed in a frown, only to immediately snap open as the screeching of the crashing Mach once again filled his ears.

"Damn it," he moaned, sweeping an open palm over his watering eyes in unwanted exasperation. "Just … God!" The bed squeaked in protest as he slowly sat up, leaning his head into his folded hands as his elbows pressed against his knees for support. "I know it was me, I know it was my fault!" His whispers were violent as the raked across his throat and through his lips, as sure of their intended target as their oblivious creator. "I know it! What the hell do you want me to do?"

'I promise I won't get in the way.'

"Shit, Speedy."

He could remember the first time he saw his little brother – a one-week-old crying bundle of skin and bones wrapped in a blanket in his mother's arms when he was nearly eight-years-old. Pops had him lifted up on the side of the hospital bed, warning him not to smack the infant with his ceramic model of the Mach 1 that he still grasped tightly in his small hand. Rex had been highly unimpressed with his new sibling, finding his cries quickly annoying and the attention he was receiving far from acceptable. He had only muttered a quiet "Hello" before squirming in his father's grasp in point to be let loose. However, just as he was being lowered, he managed to lose his grip on his small car, his mother's startled gasp assuring him that it had, in fact, landed on the baby. He had cringed as his father's grip unconsciously tightened, waiting for Speed's wails. It wasn't until nothing happened that he had cracked open an eye, only to see the vivid blue gaze staring at the upturned green car in wonder, and a small, little quirk that may have been a smile on his pudgy lips. And despite his parents later telling him Speed could not have smiled at that age, it was at that moment – when Speed showed an interest in cars – that Rex started thinking of the baby as his little brother. It was a memory so vivid and sacred to his mind that the eldest Racer son was certain he would never forget it.

Which made the words his mind continued to pound him with all the more painful, so much so that the slight knocking at his bedroom door caused him to groan in discomfort.

"I don't want to talk right now," he called out, standing, wincing as his voice croaked over the words. "It's two in the morning, can't we continue the lecture after breakfast?" He knew he had no right to be bitter with either one of his parents for their anger toward him, but when he compared the magnitude of their anger toward him to that of the magnitude he had toward himself, it seemed annoyingly lacking. And he certainly didn't have the emotion to spare to deal with it right now.

The knocking repeated itself, softer this time, as though uncertain, and with a growl, Rex heaved himself from his position, hand outstretched to yank open the dim knob when the door creaked open.

"R-Rex?" His advancement stopped, and he stared at the open space, dumbfounded.

"Speedy?"

There was no usual returning call. Countless times had Speed come to his room in the dead of night, seeking his comfort after a nightmare rather than their parents, as Pops was apt to send Speed back to his room, whereas Rex would share his bed for the remainder of the night. Those times, Speed would knock as he had now, and then throw himself against the older boy's frame, sobbing and speaking of ungodly terrors that only children could come up with. Now, however, there was no noise to support that the child was, indeed, still in the room, and in that motion of confusion and panic, Rex's own exasperation was momentarily gone as he reached against the wall and flicked on his light switch.

Speed was still there, alright, clothed in his racecar pajamas, his blue eyes bloodshot and his pale face damp with hours of tears.

"Speedy …" Rex breathed. "What's wrong? What happened?" He reached out a hand to clasp his little brother's shoulder, only to jerk to a stop as the younger boy flinched away from him. His heart spiked with hurt as Speed looked down, slowly ambling into the room. "Speed?" And he hated how desperate his voice sounded.

"I'm sorry." The words were soft, pained, and far more mature than they should be for any eight-year-old. Rex blinked as he shut the door.

"Sorry?" He inquired, trying to keep his tone light. "Sorry for what, bud? We've already talked about this. It was an accident, and the Mach 4 will be back up to par in no time--." Speed cut him off with words that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"I'm sorry I almost got us killed," he whispered, and Rex froze.

"W-what?"

Speed Racer was not shy by nature. He was outgoing to anyone who instigated conversation, constantly broke into arguments in class with children who weren't even speaking to him, and was quick to offer his thoughts on any exchanges between adults, no matter if he understood what was being said or not. He was reliable to always be looking someone dead in the eyes whenever addressing them, and to make sure that if it was only he and someone else in the room, than that someone else's attention was focused solely on him.

But now Speed was peering up at him between his thick eyelashes, small body trembling so violently that had he been holding anything breakable it would be in pieces on the floor by now. Rex gulped down the steady anger that was building inside of him to whoever had put that crazy idea into his head, instead slowly reaching out a hand to tilt his brother's chin up, this time ignoring the pang of pain the flinch brought on.

"Speedy," he called softly, comfortingly. "What are you talking about? We didn't almost die." 'Liar!' his mind growled, and he shoved the title aside harshly as Speed's eyes filled with fresh tears.

"Yes we did!" He cried out, jerking away and backing up against the window. "Pops and Mom were arguing about it in 'eir room while you were in the tub! 'ey said I could have gotten us killed – I heard 'em! Pops …" he shuddered, and his next words quieted drastically. "Pops said my mistake could have had 'em burying two sons tonight." And Rex hissed.

'And I'm the idiot?' He demanded mentally to their father.

"I don't want you to die, Rex," his little brother continued softly, oblivious of the other's internal battle. "I won't ever drive again, if you won't die. Will 'at work, Rex? I won't even go to the track anymore, if 'at'll help. I'll—."

"Shut up, Speedy," Rex snapped, and then sighed as the younger instantly did so, new tears sliding down his face. Rex inched forward, cautiously, so as not to frighten, gradually stretching out his arms until they were both behind the child. And then he quickly wrapped them around Speed's shaking form, pulling the boy against his chest in a bone-crushing hug as the latter soaked his shirt quickly with quiet, heart-wrenching sobs. "Shhh," he soothed, running a hand up and down his brother's back as the other carded through his hair. "Shhh, Speedy. It's okay. It's okay. I'm right here, buddy. I'm right here. We're both okay. Shhhhhh."

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, even when he looked back on it years later. What felt like days could have been hours or minutes. All he knew was that with every new, pain-filled breath Speed took, a piece of his heart ripped away, and that with every tear of the other that touched his skin, a tear of his own would sneak from his eye. After Speed had somewhat quieted down, he had picked them both up off the ground and instead sought refuge on the bed, where the still crying child had curled up against him, keeping his face firmly implanted in the crook of his brother's neck, and Rex still kept his arms locked around him, soothing him, neither seeing a reason to move.

"Pops was wrong, Speed," he murmured a while later, when the tears had finally dried and the vicious shudders had died down to occasional shivers. "That accident wouldn't have killed us. I promise you that. And you know why, don't you?" The mass of curly black hair – freshly released from its bandages – tickled his nose as the small head shook in negative response. "It's because of those red socks that you're always wearing. Those are the only reasons were survived."

"What?" Speed pulled away slightly, his voice hoarse as he stared at his brother in disbelief. "My socks? But you said you didn't like my red socks, Rex." The last words were pointed and annunciated with a small, defeated pout. If this were any other time, the seventeen-year-old would have jumped on the chance to tease his little brother with the natural instinct that demanded he do so. Now, however, it was an impossibility as he stared into the still-red blue eyes that looked up at him with adoration.

"I didn't," he admitted softly, before smirking. "But that was before they saved us. Can you imagine the headlines? 'Racer Brothers Saved in Serious Car Accident by Magical Red Socks. More on page eight.'" That brought forth the giggle Rex had been fishing for, and he let out a relieved grin as Speed cracked his small, newly gap-toothed smile.

"Really?" He demanded softly, only a hint of doubt left in his voice, and Rex lowered his head so that both of their foreheads were touching, holding back the wince the contact caused his wound.

"I wouldn't lie to you, little brother," he assured, pulling back as Speed stared at him in wonder. "Now, let's get some sleep, huh? I don't know about you, but I really want some of Mom's breakfast in the morning. I'm not going to sleep through that." He maneuvered so that he could pull back the covers, allowing Speed to climb in first.

"She's making pancakes," came the soft reply. "I heard 'at, too." And Rex grinned as he reached over to flick the secondary light-switch, before settling in beside him.

"Pancakes? Awesome. Definitely going to sleep now." He laid his head on the pillow, grin dying down to a small smile of contentment as Speed snuggled his way back against his chest – he wrapped his arm back around the small frame, holding him in the position he apparently wanted to stay in.

"Love you, Rex," Speed's voice was thick with the exhaustion of the day, but it still held that excited spark that came whenever he spoke to him. Rex pulled him closer.

"Love you too, Speedy," he whispered into the curly hair, eyes closing as Speed's breathing slowly deepened beside him.

'He'll know the truth someday,' his mind tormented. 'He'll know that you almost got him killed. He'll find out.'

'He won't have to,' he argued back. 'When he's old enough, I'll tell him exactly what happened – I'll tell him it was my fault. Until then and after, though, nothing like this is ever going to happen to him again. I won't let it.'

'I'll watch out for him forever.'

.T.

"I need to talk to you."

It was the first time Rex had ever taken that tone with his father, and it was the first time had he had ever been the first to speak right after any argument they had had. From the corner of his eye, he could see his mother freeze at the stove, and he could feel Speed tense up beside him, and could practically imagine the wide blue eyes looking up at him in horror. But his main attention was focused on his dad, whose fork was frozen halfway to his mouth, the piece of pancake on it still steaming.

"So talk," his father finally growled, frowning deeply in warning. Rex, however, matched the expression with just as much ferocity, his own plate of half-eaten pancakes ignored. Everything inside of him screamed to stop being so idiotic, to just go back to eating his breakfast and hope that the murderous rage building off of Pops Racer would die down by the time he hit thirty. But then he remembered last night, remembered Speed's broken words and flood of tears, and his protest was silenced with renewed vigor.

"In private," he growled back in near-perfect imitation, standing up and heading toward the garage. "Stay, Speedy," he ordered as an afterthought, knowing his little brother was already getting up to follow. He didn't even pause at the door, knowing Pops wouldn't be able to hold himself off from following his son. So him simply moved to lean against the gentle side of the Mach 5, waiting.

And he was right. Not a minute later, his father had thrown open and then slammed the garage door, bearing down on his location with a red face and a clenching jaw.

"You are looking to get your ass grounded, boy, if not beat," he snarled, spittle flying from his mouth with the words. "You think that you can talk to me like that, after that stunt you pulled yesterday? Are you out of your mind?" At first, it had taken all that Rex had not cringe from his father's wrath. But at the word 'stunt', it all faded with surprising, and slightly alarming quickness.

"Yeah, well, after my baby brother comes into my room at two o'clock in the morning, crying and saying that he was sorry he almost got us killed, the respect I have for you kinda takes a back seat, Pops," he hissed viciously, smirking in a satisfied way as his father's face paled.

"He … he said that?" The Racer patriarch stammered. Rex nodded grimly.

"That, along with your own personal quote of how his driving could have had you burying two sons last night," he continued mercilessly. "You're my dad and I love you, but if you ever put an idea like that in his head again I swear I will never speak another word toward you." Pops' eyes flashed, his momentary stun quickly overrun by his infamous anger.

"Now you listen here, Rex--."

"No!" The cry cut him short. "I had to comfort Speed last night for two hours before he would go back to sleep. Comfort him over blame taken for something that was my fault. And it was my fault! He could have died because of something I did, Pops, not him! He's eight-years-old, he shouldn't even know what death is, let alone think that he could be responsible for it!" He turned away, bracing his hands against the Mach 5 to balance his weight. "The accident was entirely my fault, we both know it. So you can ground me, beat me, fire me from driving, whatever. But you're going to go back to Speed and tell him that you didn't mean a word that you said last night. I meant what I said, Pops." He took in a breath, and let it out. "If you hurt him again, ..."

There was one knock on the garage door before it opened – both men looked up to see his mother poke her head in, eyes uncertain as she scanned them both.

"Mr. Silvertine is here with the car," she said softly.

"Be there in a minute," Pops answered, and after a second and another swift glance, she nodded and closed the door. They stood in silence for a moment before Pops finally turned to look Rex in the eyes.

"I'll speak with Speed," he assured stiffly, as though bending to the request pained him. "And you will serve out your punishment for letting him drive." He sounded as though he wanted to say something more, but Rex, so used to such a situation, simply nodded and moved back toward the door.

"Tomorrow," he agreed. "I promised Speedy I'd help him fix up his car today so that he can start taking it to the park and school." He paused at the door, turning his head to the side so that his father would know he was addressing him, but so that he didn't have to look at him at the same time. "And you're wrong about his driving. He's got one hell of an instinct, Pops. He's going to be an amazing driver." And he moved through the door.

"Rex," his father called out just before he could shut it, sounding reluctant and different. "About the accident … being your fault…"

"Don't, Pops," he warned. "You know it's true." And with that, he went inside, plastering a grin on his face at the sight of Speed talking at a hundred kilometers a second to the rapidly-processing Sam Silvertine. His grin widened as both caught sight of him, Sam offering an understanding wave and Speed rushing up to him, latching on to his arm and babbling on about everything he had learned about the other driver in the past five minutes. He released his arm in favor of wrapping it around Speed's shoulders, barely noticing Pops' entrance as he locked eyes with Silvertine.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, squeezing his brother close in a mock hug.

And he wasn't quite sure who he was speaking to.

End

The one-shot became a two-shot. Hm.

The piece between Rex and Pops came out more bitter than I intended, but I needed it to fit with the attitude during Rex's departure – that animosity between them had to start developing somewhere. 'Sides, Rex is the eldest male child, he has to butt heads occasionally. Though I do think that I made Pops' persona closer to that of the anime than the movie.

Oh well.

Anyway, per request of Cassie, I'm also going to write this story from Speed's point-of-view, called either "Flipped" or "I turned us over" (whichever one y'all like best, or any better suggestions would be MUCH appreciated). Also planning another one-shot during the movie which sort of ties into this one – both should be out by mid-week. Yay D

On a lighter note, I would love to hear how y'all felt on this one as opposed to the first part (am I only foreseeing complaints on the Rex/Pops part because I'm paranoid? D), so please click that review button at the bottom of the screen and let me know what you thought! Thank you!

Always,

Me

(Second note:) Found out Sam Silvertine is really Slim Silvertone. I'm not changing it for creative reasons, but I wanted all potential flammers to see that I know it before they get all bent up.