Disclaimer: Speed Racer is the property of Tatsuo Yoshida, and the Wachowski Brothers.

A/N: So: first Speed Racer fic. (I've only seen it once; still totally obsessed, though. Eheh...) When confronted with how to actually write it, I put Coldplay's "The Scientist" on repeat and allowed it to carry me through. This is what came out.

Pancakes

Mom Racer was always one of the first people up in the morning; that was the way she liked it. She liked the quiet that came before the day, standing in the kitchen as she prepared breakfast, faintly hearing Pops and Sparky tinkering away in the garage while she mixed the batter; it gave her time to think, to digest some problems or puzzles in the privacy of her own thoughts.

Considering the state of her thoughts this morning, she was especially grateful for the quiet.

Rex was alive. Her son. He was alive. And despite the fact that several days had passed, she still couldn't quite wrap the revelation around her brain. Then again, how was she supposed to? Eight years she thought he was dead, and he just pops up out of nowhere…it was a bit much to take all at once, and she couldn't help but feel that there was an expectation for her to simply accept him back like he hadn't been lying to them for nearly a decade. Where it was coming from- Pops, Speed, or even herself- she wasn't sure.

At first, she had been inclined to disbelieve him. The loss of Rex still made itself known with different levels of intensity at times, and it would have been so very easy to latch on to a perfect stranger under the assumption that he was their long-lost son. But between the repeated assurances that he was indeed Rex and the tiny, little quirks that were so achingly familiar to her, her heart knew him and the resulting shock, joy, and love threatened to break from the confines of her body and spill out as she held him tight. Still, even though her heart recognized him completely, her mind was having difficulties with the stranger's face, different enough to throw her yet not entirely unlike her Rex.

Her Rex. She paused at that. Was she even certain that he was her Rex anymore?

A soft clearing of someone's throat at the doorway tugged her from her thoughts, and she turned. Speak of the devil… Rex looked slightly abashed, lurking at the door, and her heart ached to think that her son felt like an intruder in his own home. Hundreds upon thousands of words bombarded her mind in a tangle, too jumbled to process.

She settled with, "You're up."

"Yeah." He glanced around the kitchen, his eyes taking in every inch of the room and noticeably avoiding hers. "I was just…wondering who else was up, and..."

The sentence hung unfinished as he continued his assessment of his old home; then he spotted the batter, and his gaze finally found her face. "Pancakes?"

For a split-second she didn't know what he meant, but then remembered the bowl she was cradling. "Oh, yeah…" She smiled at him; it felt stiff in the thick air. "Just- getting breakfast ready."

Rex nodded, eyes avoiding her again. He straightened, and the air got a little heavier as he turned to leave. "Well, I guess I'd better leave you to it-"

"Rex, wait." She wasn't supposed to call him that, but the name was out before she could call it back, and it felt strange on her tongue, foreign and familiar all at once. She'd used it plenty of times in her head and aloud, yet now that it was reattached to someone in front of her, it felt awkward in her mouth, almost like it was sliding back into an old niche for it, only to find that it didn't quite fit anymore. The feeling this realization awakened in her was too painful to process at the moment, so she ignored it.

He'd stopped and turned at the sound of his name. This was a surprise, as he'd advised them almost right off the bat that he needed to keep a low profile, even among themselves, that this knowledge put them in even more danger than before. Yet despite these assurances, he'd turned. He'd acknowledged it as his name, and was now looking at her with an expectant yet unidentifiable expression that squeezed the breath out of her lungs.

She inhaled deeply, steadying herself, and smiled again; it came easily to her face this time, warm and loving. "Why don't you stick around? These pancakes won't take that long to make."

A doubtful look crossed his features, as though he were questioning the wisdom of being alone in the room with her; inexplicably, the expression made her want to laugh.

"Come on," she said, turning to the stove. "Keep me company."

Occupied as she was with forming the pancakes, she didn't see Rex move, but after a moment or two she heard him slowly walk to the table and sit down. The lingering smile on her face grew a little bigger before fading as the air remained thick, and in the ensuing awkward silence, the Racer matriarch started to reprocess the strangeness of it all. Still becoming reacquainted with his presence, she couldn't help but cast quick, sidelong glances at her eldest.

Even now, she still couldn't quite believe it was him. If she looked hard enough, she could see the lingering resemblances in his face, the small features that still rang of Racer blood, but the difference remained startling and her brain still couldn't handle it, this Rex-yet-not-Rex who seemed perfectly at ease to be at the table and stare around at his home, yet sat with a rigidness that suggested the discomfort of being in an unfamiliar place. And this, she realized, was the most difficult aspect about the whole situation. It was hard to look at him, because it made it difficult for her to reconcile him as her son; but every time she glanced away, she worried that the next time she looked he'd be gone, like he'd never been there at all and she'd dreamed the whole thing. She was caught, she realized, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't quite know how to get out.

Then he looked in her direction, catching her stare, and his mouth twisted up into a crooked smile of understanding. And just like that,the stranger was gone and there sat Rex, no doubts and no confusion, his place in her kitchen as natural as a sunrise. The realization struck her hard, and she had to look away to hide the resulting tears.

Wiping her eyes as subtly as possible, she flipped some pancakes onto a plate, dressed them up, and set the dish down on the table before him. "Here you are, honey," she said, the endearment slipping out as easily and strangely as his name had earlier, and the tension returned as the deceptively simple words hovered between them. Then as quickly as it came, it vanished as Rex cut out a bite and lifted it to his mouth, and Mom turned back to the fryer to attend to the other pancakes.

It's getting easier..., she thought, smiling faintly. Little by little...it's getting easier. It would take a while, to get back to that place where the world made sense, beyond the grief and readjustments. But they'd get there, and that thought alone put the silence in need of filling.

"Pops and Sparky are in the garage right now," she said conversationally. "I should probably go tell them that breakfast is ready…"

She turned again, and was startled to see Rex leaning against the table, eyes pressed to the back of his hand still clutching the fork, and shoulders shaking slightly. Still frozen where she stood, and realizing that his sniffs were sounding rather wet, she frantically started to wonder what she could have possibly done to upset him. She almost lost it entirely, but managed to pull herself together before giving in to panic.

"…Rex?" she asked, concerned, and his name became a little more familiar with reuse.

Rex lifted his head, and red eyes met hers. "I'm really home, aren't I?"

A lump formed in her throat as the words finally, truly sank in. Rex was alive. Rex was home. And he was still her Rex.

The tears resurfaced; this time she didn't hide them. "Yeah. You're home."