Don't own. Don't sue. Flames welcome guys.

One-shot.

SamXSix.

Six isn't used to being looked after.

Shot at? Yes.

Punched in the face? More often than not.

But mothered? Not a chance in the entire galaxy.

Someone should have told Sam that.

The mortal, wiry, sometime useful but always-a-pain-in-the-ass…human had taken it upon his bony shoulders to protect her, to look after, her.

She'd be outraged if it wasn't so hilarious seeing him get squeamish at the sight of her blood.

"Get on the bike." The far square in the parking lot behind him exploded and Sam gulped. "Now." She ordered, flipping down her sunglasses, not the least bit worried about motorcycle safety.

He pulled himself onto the back on the Ducati and for a moment froze, wondering where to put his hands, but when she clutched the throttle and almost cricked his neck with sheer speed it was all he could do to stay upright.

Her blonde hair was whipping in his face as she swerved through traffic, clipping the bumper of a sedan and causing one hell of a traffic jam. It would do little to slow their pursuers down.

Sam could hear is heart thumping in his skull and feel his knees shaking as they pulled onto the bypass, below them and across the bridge a big black semi-trailer followed ominously. Sam clutched her waist a little tighter.

"Hold on." She didn't need to tell him twice.

A few minutes later and the guns were out , he could smell burning rubber as bolts of red went flying past his shoulders, Six pulled to the left squeezing between two land rovers by an inch, traffic and scenery flying past. She glanced in the only remaining review mirror and cursed.

"Excuse me for minute." She stood up.

"What? Right now!" But then she launched herself off the bike and Sam grabs the controls and swerves an on coming traffic cone.

Six's boots landed on the hood of a pick-up just like his dads, speeding beside them; right across from the towering form of a leather clad Mogadorian. Before the imposing alien could raise his gun, Six removed its barrel with a swipe of her glowing Loric knife.

Sam didn't know if he should try to pull away or to stick with them, he didn't want to leave her but the last red bolt had singed all the hairs on his arm and he wasn't nearly as skilled on this bike as she was.

Six ducked a right hook and lifted her palm into the Mogadoriens face… there was a sickening grunt and a spray of black blood before another appeared from nowhere and grabbed her around the shoulders, with a flex of his inhumane shoulders, he threw her into the pulsing traffic. Sam's heart leapt into his throat before an inch from the pavement, she disappeared into thin air with a flash of azure. Reappearing behind the second Mogadorien and blowing his head off with he handgun.

"Sam! Look out!"

He pulls to the right with a squeal of tires at just the last second, the Mogadorian sneaking at him from the side, falls short of the bike and promptly ends up beneath the tires of a bus. Sam winces as he hears the crunch.

Another stands tall on the top of a cab and watches him, trench coat flapping in the air, black sunglasses flashing in the sun. From his pocket he producers a small silver something and Sam has a horrible feeling it's nothing good.

Then the alien lobs into high into the air and before it can arch to the ground Sam clutches the throttle and swerves down an exit off the motorway, the cycle ducks under a bridge and a moment later his ears are ringing with the sound of an explosion a shockwave hits the bike and the tires shake.

Sam cranes his neck, looking over his shoulder in search of a sign of Number Six, but comes up with nothing. Smoke billows and shrapnel fills the road behind him. Sam is hyperventilating when out of nowhere she appears on the road in front of him. He slams on the breaks and stops an inch before her knee cap.

She raises an eyebrow at him, "Look what you did to my bike." She is driving again and Sam is holding onto her shoulders weakly, her hair and skin smells like smoke, her clothes are ripped and bloody and when Sam gets his breath back he would be terribly concerned.

But their not out of it yet and Six takes the next exit to further the gap between them and the motorway behind.

But soon the Mogs have caught up again and Sam is tapping her on the shoulder, "Um…Six?"

"I know." Their in almost-suburbia now and there are large buildings around with the smell of coal, taking another few turns their suddenly rolling along railway tracks and as a tunnel looms ahead, Sam glances over his shoulder and sees some severely damaged black SUV's on their tail. One is missing the windshield and from here he can see the tattoos and gills on their ugly faces.

It's suddenly dark as Sam and Six disappear into the tunnel and Sam's teeth are chattering from the uneven terrain, after about half a mile a light dawns ahead and the walls begin to shake, they pull into a straight and a train blocks their view, about a hundred meters ahead.

"Train." Sam gulps.

"I see it." She answers.

At about fifty meters Sam's whole body is shaking and a horn honks in alarm, "Train!" He gasps.

"I said, I see it!" At ten meters she turns on a dime and the small red bike disappears up a service tunnel. Sam still has his eyes shut for the collision and refuses to open them. Six grunts at him.

"Wuss."

Sam bumps his head as they ride over a lip and the service tunnel ends, they appear onto more tracks, there is daylight at the far end and Six heads towards it. Sam is just starting to breath again when they burst into the harsh sunlight and another storming locomotive is less then a meter from them.

"Whoops." Six breathes.

Then there is nothing but black and no air and the feeling of being compressed like a car in a cuber. Sam tries to scream but before he knows it, the feeling ends and oxygen rushes back into his body along with his internal organs.

Their back on the motorway, in the middle of the motorway more accurately, sapphire light in wafting off their clothes and Sam is about to hurl before Six yanks him by the collar and into her arms.

The world is spinning as she flips them to avoid a truck, rolls them to avoid a family sedan and launches them into the air to dodge a Buggie. By the time she pins him to the ground beneath her and a semi-trailer rolls over the top of them Sam has dizziness to add to his nausea.

For what seems like hours they stay like that and if Sam was more self-aware at the moment he would be blushing at having her lying on top of him, as it is, he can barely breath, see or hear.

As she lifts him to his feet and brushes the dirt from his arms and torso, the traffic is avoiding them on its own now.

"Sorry about that." She says, not sheepish, but casual, as if this kind of thing happens to her everyday...well, actually, it does.

Sam leans over gasping, hands on his knees and she pats him awkwardly on the back. "What…about…your…bike…?"

Her hand pauses, a beat, "Goddamit!" She curses, pushing her glasses back into her hair and wincing.

He almost feels sorry for her.

Almost.

But right know he thinks maybe she left his heart back at the train tracks, along with his liver and maybe his spleen.

He will never, ever, times infinity, teleport again.

She teleports them to the other side of town and it's all she has the strength to do before she collapses, Sam struggles with her weight, trying to hold her up and drag her to the curb at the same time.

The chase hadn't ended there. Several more explosions and an energy blast to the back later; she is leaning against him, bloody and bruised. He lowers her to the ground next to a parked car and produces his lock picking set and does his best to get her into the car without causing further injury. Her blonde head lolls against his shoulder as he fiddles with the wires, eventually Sam speeds away in their stolen car, hoping against hope that John would get his emergency text.

The motel clerk gives him a weird look but the place is seedy enough and Sam's wallet fat enough that he'll keep quite about the two teenagers checking into a motel at twelve at night, one of them beaten up all to hell and both smelling like tar.

Sam lugs her dead weight to the couch, clutching her with one arm and a paper bag filled with hurriedly bought medical supplies in the other.

His stitches are a bit crooked, his gauze not tight enough, too much anti-septic used and when he has to get her ruined shirt off he blushes a brilliant scarlet but with his ministrations eventually everything stops bleeding and Six is sleeping peacefully, one arm in a make shift cast, the other hanging over the end of the under stuffed couch.

He pulls the only other piece of furniture in the room, a rickety chair, to her side and tugs a blanket up to his chin.

At about three in the morning Six watches him shivering in his sleep and she wonders what kind of parallel universe has she teleported herself into.

Where Sam Goode was the one watching over her.

Looking after her.

It wasn't right.

But it felt kind of…nice.

Kind of relaxing.

Maybe she could get used to being looked after.

To not doing her stitches by herself, left handed.

There's a soft knock on the room door, four knocks in particular. As she gingerly gets up, with a wince and a bolt of pain through her back, to let John in. She slips out of her blanket and instead tucks it around Sam's shoulders, his shivering quells and she shakes her head and goes for the door.

Not likely.

Not ever.

Not in this universe.