AN: ...Plotbunnies are evil. I should be sleeping, but this idea would not leave me no matter what I tried. So here it is, produced in a sentimental ten minutes: another Racer X/Trixie. This pairing has kinda grown on me, although I'm not sure how popular it'll be with, you know, sane and logical people. XD I can't help it, I am a romantic at heart and will probably never stop sighing over this couple. (Also, Racer X needs some love in his life.)

Anyhow, I own nothing. All characters are property of someone other than me.

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She's so warm and real.

Real and tangible. He could touch her. So many people were out of his reach. Speed. Pops. Mom. They were so near, but distant. Out of reach, he was just a ghost to them. They were ghosts to him. Only Trixie was within reach. He could brush against her and know this wasn't a dream. She was solid, a piece of reality grounding him to this life. Without her, he wasn't sure if he could tell anymore what was real and what was not. The lines were getting blurry nowadays.

His life as Rex is gone. His life as Racer X is all danger, little rewards. His life outside Racer X is a meaningless half-existance spent in contemplation of the first two. Only when he's near her does he have those brief seconds where he feels like himself, not an act or an identity. It's brief, it's a secret between the two of them, and it's kind of pitiful, but he's real. For the tiniest moment, he's a person. It gets him through his life, or rather, his lives. Is it using her? He doesn't know, and he's not sure if he wants to know. He just knows he needs her more than he'll ever admit out loud.

He can't tell her he loves her, not because of personal pride or a fear of being hurt. He's been hurt so much at this point, nothing is damaging anymore. Between the fear of Speed being taken out and the fear of discovery, he's too numb to have pride. He can't tell her the truth because it would rip his brother's heart out to lose Trixie to him. And even as broken as he is, he can't do that to Speed. Never. It's not in him to be that selfish. He wants to be. A part of him wants her all for himself. That part is ignored, however, when he sees them smile at each other.

Yet he can't stop himself from holding her close in private. She's timid and soft in his arms. So real and full of feelings. Unlike him, Trixie can express all her feelings openly and never once even tries to stop herself from doing so. She's his pure opposite. Exact what he needs. This isn't a want, really. It's a need. He needs to see that open heartedness that she radiates. He needs to remind himself that his internal apathy is not his only option. Though he knows that in the end, Trixie will eventually come to her senses and leave him, for the time being he feels wonderful. It's wonderful to be able to feel her soft skin, smell her perfume, feel the weight of her body leaning against him. It feels wonderful to be with someone, instead of alone. Even if he's an island in public, in private he will always break down and show her his affection.

Her hands dig under his helmet one day, revealing dyed black hair. She runs her hands through his hair, curiously, and his eyes close. Being able to feel even the smallest physical touch makes his mind feel at ease. He takes in every tiny sensation, letting small moments feel huge. In his mind, seconds become hours. He doesn't think about how he had to dye his hair for his undercover work, or how his work has affected him. All his thoughts focus on the ginger, hesitant hands toying with his hair. His eyes open. She's so gentle with him, as if she knows how broken instead he is. Maybe she does. Maybe she can see past how he acts to how he feels. Or perhaps without his helmet, it's written across his face.

"You look different than I'd imagined," she whispered. "You don't look so cold."

"Is that how I look normally?"

"Sort of. Determined, like a hero," and she grins good naturedly at him, melting all his worries away in a heartbeat. "Like Speed's guardian angel."

"I'm not an angel," he says, cringing because his life is composed of a million lies. "You might be, though." She is, to him at least.

She smiles, shaking her head slightly, and wraps her arms around his neck again. He loves embracing her; the way he can feel her every curve against him. The physical sensation reassures him this is really happening. He's in heaven, but this isn't a dream. For a moment, everything is right with the world. He drinks her in with his eyes, committing her smile to his memory. Seconds trickle by. They need to part. She needs to go home, go to Speed, go be with someone who can talk to her and tell her all the things she needs to hear. He knows that every second he spends with her is a second taken away from his brother. But he needs this. He needs her, so much. Her warmth, her soft expressions, her delicate touch. She just smiles into his embrace, as if she knows everything without him saying a word.

And even though it's freezing cold tonight, he's not cold when she leaves.

Her smile keeps him warm all the way home.