Coming Home

by Dawn

Note: This is a sequel, and if you haven't read Protecting the Racers yet you'll be lost. I wasn't expecting to have a sequel started so soon, but here we are. I blame the reviewers, especially SerpentsAttire and randomcat23.

This story is not yet finished, and I'll be updating it as I complete the chapters. You'll have a longer wait than for Protecting the Racers, but hopefully inspiration won't abandon me. Reviews are great for prodding the characters to talk to me! Anything you like, anything you don't like, I'd love to hear from you.

Part One

It was hard to tell whether this was closer to a kidnap or a rescue, Speed thought, bemused. It was certainly not sanctioned by the hospital authorities, but when Rex had dropped a pair of red socks on his bed and grinned, protesting was out of the question. For that moment, on a face lit up with mischief, the features hadn't mattered at all and he'd seen his brother just as he remembered him.

The way Rex drove a wheelchair was disturbingly similar to the way he drove a race car, too.

Down several levels at a service entrance, the car waiting for them wasn't yellow, but Speed knew the sound of a well-tuned racing engine when he heard it and the paint job looked suspiciously new. Elena hopped out of it, winked happily at Speed, and pulled her husband down for a long kiss before handing him Racer X's mask and vanishing into the shadows as though she'd never been there.

"Coming, Speed?" his brother asked. "Unless you'd rather take your chances with the reporters out front."

Definitely more of a rescue, Speed decided. "Let's go!"

He kept his head down until they were safely away, which didn't take long, and eventually thought to mention, "Pops does know about this, right?"

"The family knows," Rex assured him. "They agreed it would be better if you didn't go out the front. They'll meet us at the house."

With that issue settled, Speed leaned back in the seat and let the wind relax him. Being trapped in a hospital bed had begun to feel a lot like being trapped in an aquarium, once the nurses had started gossiping about his identity, in spite of Trixie's valiant efforts to defend him. "Thanks, Rex. I needed out of there."

Rex cast him a look, impenetrable under the mask. "You can't call me that, Speed."

"Even when it's just us?" Speed asked, regretting the plaintive tone even as he heard it. It made him sound like a kid, which really wasn't the way he wanted Rex to see him.

"Not even then," Rex said. "It's important to train a habit, so the wrong name never comes out, even under stress. You might notice my wife never calls me by that name."

Even under stress had a frightening sort of ring about it, Speed couldn't help thinking. "You're going to have to give that lecture a lot," he said, to take his mind off it.

The hospital was too public a place to hold the long conversations Speed knew pretty much everyone in the family wanted to have with Rex. It was a debatable point whether Rex had seen this as a disadvantage, or welcomed the delay. In either case, once home, things would change.

The resigned sigh told him Rex knew it, too. "However many times it takes."

"Why is it so important?" He still hadn't really adjusted to the fact of his brother's survival, and looking at the unfamiliar face made it harder. Without the name to hold on to, the memory of Alex's admission was as surreal as a dream.

A pause, long enough that Speed began to wonder if he should rephrase the question. Finally Rex said, "Because if anyone made the connections, my presence would put all of you in danger. Again."

If Rex thought the family was in danger because of him, he would have to leave. Again. And not come back, not for a very long time. If calling his brother by an alias kept him around, Speed would do it and gladly.

Remembering all the protection that Rex and the Inspector seemed to think was necessary for his sake, Speed felt a twinge of guilt. His brother had left to draw the danger away, but Speed had snatched at the chance to win the Grand Prix without ever considering the consequences to his family. If Mom or Pops or Trixie had been in that ill-fated helicopter, and been hurt or killed, he'd never have forgiven himself. "Should I--do that?" he asked, voice sounding small in his own ears. "Leave? If people are shooting missiles at helicopters because I might be in them..."

"No," Rex cut him off, forcefully, and Speed knew it was Rex; that was older-brother panic, not the strategic protest of an agent, and it warmed him to hear it. "No, Speed, you shouldn't." A breath of silence. "The choices I had to make...I never wanted that for you, Speedy."

Of course not, Speed wanted to say, but he could tell his brother was searching for words, and didn't interrupt.

When the words came, slowly, they weren't the ones Speed had expected. "It was after that race at Thunderhead that it started. You remember how everyone wanted me to sign with them."

Speed remembered. He'd been so proud of his big brother, and so sure that Rex would never leave Racer Motors.

"Blackjack Benelli was one of those people. I turned him down. Twice." With Alex's face hidden behind Racer X's mask, it was easy to accept that the man behind it was still Rex, especially when his voice was hoarse with memory. "He made threats, but I didn't take him seriously. And then that bomb--do you remember?"

A flush of guilt heated Speed's face. "I remember." He'd carried the package in himself, pleased to have met a fan of his brother.

"After that, I knew I didn't have a choice..."

Eleven years ago

On the nights when no races were scheduled, Thunderhead track was usually deserted. Few drivers wanted to practice this late, when the spectators were gone. The lone red car hummed at the starting line, eager to run the track with or without competition, but her driver sighed and shut down the engine, ignoring the disappointed note as the car obediently went silent.

For once, Rex Racer had lost all desire to race.

It was well past midnight, and Pops probably thought he was out partying and getting drunk. Rex wished he were; an argument over irresponsibility and underage drinking would have been reassuringly normal, in comparison to the one they were actually going to have.

The one they needed to have, because Rex had no intention of dragging his family with him into the sordid underworld he had no choice but to enter.

The bomb Speed had unwittingly brought home had come within seconds of killing not only Rex, but Speed, Pops, and Speed's completely uninvolved classmate. If Speed hadn't been quite so observant of the stranger's car...if Rex hadn't reacted fast enough...

The sick horror still hadn't faded. No, there was no way he would risk the family again. He'd already made the call, though it had felt like selling his soul to agree to Benelli's terms. Now he just had to make sure his family stayed safely out of the way.

He opened the car door to let the breeze in, and rested his head on the wheel of his car, trying to gather his courage to go back to the house. Putting it off wouldn't make it any easier.

It just gave him a few more minutes as a man with a family, instead of a thug for Benelli.

Something rustled in the still night, and Rex's attention snapped toward the noise, eyes narrowing. "Who's there?"

A dark-skinned girl stepped from the shadows like a ghost, a wry smile touching her full lips. The blue dress that clung to her slim curves matched the beads that clicked softly in multiple braids. "I only want to talk, Mr. Racer," she said, in a lilting, exotic accent.

He frowned at her, trying to remember where he'd seen her before. "Talk? About what?" It came out sharp, but if he was impolite enough that she went away so much the better. The last thing he wanted was a conversation about racing, when all his dreams had become nightmares.

But she said, "About your plans for the future. You have agreed to Mr. Benelli's offer, have you not?"

The name made his gut churn. Rex recognized the girl now, a face in the crowd at the track, and he'd dismissed her then as just another racing fan. She was no older than him, and looked far more innocent. But now he could see a darkness in her eyes that didn't match her age, and he clenched his fists. "You work for him?" he demanded.

"Not at all," the girl said pleasantly. "Quite the opposite. I have a different offer for you."

A derisive breath forced its way out of him. "I've had about enough of offers I can't refuse, thanks anyhow," he snarled. "Go away."

The young woman spread her hands, her eyes wide in a silent plea. "I think you'll like this option better than what you have now," she said in earnest tones, "and of course you can refuse it. But please hear me out first."

It might be a trap, and probably was; some kind of test, to see if he was going to be loyal--and yet...

Against his better judgment, Rex jerked his head for her to continue.

"I work for the C.I.B." The statement was direct and matter-of-fact, with no room in her expression for any of the obvious questions about her youth. "We have been trying to bring Benelli to trial for years now, but we have no proof, no witnesses willing to testify."

Rex had a first-hand understanding of how potential witnesses might be convinced not to do anything against Benelli. He wished the C.I.B. every success, but his family's safety was too high a price to pay, even if he could trust that this girl was truthful and not reporting to Benelli as a test of his loyalty. "I'm not going to spy on anyone." He reached for the ignition.

"Hear me out," the girl commanded again, and Rex found himself pausing without conscious decision as she stepped closer to the car. Her face was open, unguarded, and the shadows in her eyes had the look of bitter knowledge.

"Right now, you don't think you have a choice," she said. "You're probably right, or you would never have agreed. I know a little about you, Rex Racer." She raised her eyebrows slightly. "You are a good man. Following Benelli's orders will be very difficult for you. And eventually, whether in a month, or six months, or a year, there's going to be one you can't follow. What I'm offering you, when that time comes, is a way out."

He hadn't seen where it came from, but there was suddenly a slip of scrap paper in her blue-gloved hand. Rex took it gingerly, looked it over. A corner of a page that might have been torn from anywhere, with a number scribbled in feminine handwriting and a name below it--'Helen'. Perfectly safe for him to carry around.

Her direct gaze was still waiting for him when he raised his head to meet it, and there was a compassion in it that made him want to look away. "A suggestion, Mr. Racer." She reached into his car, and lightly tapped the photo there. "For your family's sake...never admit that you care about them."

Rex swallowed hard. That much he'd already known. "Why should I trust you?" he asked, a little too rough to pretend she hadn't affected him.

The girl's lilting voice dropped abruptly into something closer to a growl. "I swear to you, I would sooner die than help Benelli." The hatred in her eyes couldn't possibly be feigned. "He killed my mother."

And she stepped back, conversation over. "Wait," Rex blurted. "Helen--is that your name?"

He received the faint flicker of a smile in response, thrown over her shoulder. "It's as good a name as any."

Then she was gone.

Present

"And that was Elena? How you met for the first time?" Speed asked, fascinated. He didn't quite see how the story applied to the issue at hand, but it didn't matter. Every scrap of information about how his brother had spent the long years apart made the gap between them feel a little smaller.

Rex nodded. "Not that I had any idea who she was."

He'd guessed some of the pressures Rex had been under, once he'd realized the extent that corporate corruption had penetrated the sport of racing, but hearing it first-hand was still difficult. Especially since he'd had absolutely no idea about any of it while it was happening.

"I wish you'd told us." The words slipped out before he could catch them, although the last thing he wanted to do was make his brother feel any worse about the whole thing. Too late to stop now, though. "Even if you'd still had to leave, we could have tried to help. We'd've understood what you were doing."

Rex slapped the wheel sharply enough to make Speed jump in his seat. "That's it exactly, Speed!" he said, low and intense. "I should have told you. I was so worried about keeping you all out of danger that I took away your right to choose."

Speed made the connection. "That's why you think I should stay. Because everyone's already shown they'd rather go through this with me, whatever happens." Even well aware of the danger--Rex's death, then the attacks by ninjas and thugs, had made it quite clear--the family had supported him wholeheartedly in the Grand Prix.

"I didn't really understand until I thought about how I'd feel, if you tried to leave," Rex admitted. He wasn't looking at Speed at all, eyes hidden behind the mask. "I was wrong. And I hope you won't make the same mistake."

A feeling of warm relief spread up through Speed's chest. "The family's learned something in ten years, too," he said, trying for a light tone. "If I tried it they'd only drag me back."

Rex snorted a soft laugh. "Saw that at Casa Cristo, didn't we? You should've heard the security guards talk about you all."

The next thought drained Speed's good humor. "But you're going to leave again, aren't you?" He tried not to make it an accusation, though it really was.

"Yeah," Rex breathed on a sigh. "There's too much to do; Royalton's not the only problem." A quick smile, lopsided but genuine. "But I won't be alone. I've got Elena to watch my back, and all the other agents; and I have a family to come home to again. I've lasted this long, you're not going to lose me now."

It didn't stop the worry, but Speed recognized the stubborn determination that he had always shared with his brother and knew there were some things that couldn't be changed. "Just be careful," he couldn't help saying.

Even now, all secrets revealed, his brother apparently could only take so much of the unaccustomed openness. "Why don't we pick up the pace a little?" he suggested. The car roared eagerly.

Speed grinned, and for the moment, the long years separating them didn't seem to matter much at all.

end part one