"West, on a plane bound west, I see her stretching out below – land, blessed mother land, the place where I was born."
At the beginning of the song, Jackson paused. He couldn't stand country music but something about the new song made him pull his hand away from the tuner. He and Lisa were driving cross-country with no particular goal but to stay low on the radar. An unfortunate consequence were the consistently changing radio signals. Constant tuning to get something other than indistinguishable static had become a habit. Except when it landed him with a country station; he'd rather listen to the static.
"Scars, yeah she's got her scars. Sometimes it starts to worry me… 'Cause lose, I don't wanna lose sight of who we are…"
Jackson stole a quick glance over to Lisa, who was staring out the window at the passing landscape, as per usual. They were traveling through the hills of California – currently in and around San Francisco - and she was absolutely enthralled by the scenery. She had never seen the west coast before, she had told him. Had she heard the last verse of the song? Surely no other song could so perfectly capture their current situation. But what were they, even?
"From the mountains high to the wave-crashed coast, there's a way to find better days, I know. It's been a long, hard ride. Got a ways to go, but this is still the place that we all call home."
Okay, this had to be a joke. Just the day before they had stopped at a cliffside - right before crossing the Golden Gate. They had left the car for a while, letting their cramped legs stretch as they looked over to the fog-covered city. Peering carefully down over the edge, they could see the foam caused by the strong impacts of the waves against the rocks. The sight was beautiful and frightening all at the same time. And then the fact that they had been crammed into a little car and hotel rooms for months on end, yet despite the history between them, both had grown to desire nothing else than this potentially unending journey they were on together. Could a patriotic song get any eerier?
"Free, nothing feels like free, though it sometimes means we don't get along. Cause same, no, we're not the same. But that's what makes us strong."
Yes, it could. These several months spent on the road with Lisa were unlike anything else. For once, he felt free. Finally. And it was all thanks to Lisa. Yes, they had fought many times and they were entirely different people. When they were together, though, they were a nearly unstoppable force. Jackson's thoughts continued as the chorus about the mountains and sea repeated before continuing into the next verse.
"Brave, gotta call it brave, to chase that dream across the sea. Names, and they signed their names for something they believed. Red, how the blood ran red, and we laid our dead in sacred ground. Just think… Wonder what they think if they could see us now."
He couldn't help it with the last verse – he had cracked an almost nostalgic smile. The Russians – the brave (He preferred the term bullheaded, however.) Russians who brought them together in the first place. All his employees, coworkers, and bosses – they had all signed their names and lives over to the business and assignments they believed wholeheartedly in. And between him and Lisa, they had seen plenty of blood from them in their chase to eradicate the highly unconventional pair. Oh yes, what they would think if they could see them now…
The chorus repeated few more times, closing the song. With the same nostalgic smile on his face, Jackson turned his head toward Lisa.
"Leese, were you listening?"
He could hear the same smile on her voice when she answered, despite her not turning to look at him.
"Yeah, I was, Jackson…"
His smile grew wider as he turned his focus back to the road before him. It was unspoken, but they both knew the moment that had passed would be another not easily forgotten as they continued through the outskirts of San Francisco, going deeper and deeper into the wine country.
A/N: Whew, that was scary. But now that a first story is up, hopefully the jitters dissapear some. The song is "Home" by Dierks Bentley. I heard it for the first time the other day, and thought it'd be a fun little piece to write to. The cliffside that they stop at does exist. I was in San Francisco over last summer with a friend and we were going to go up to this cliff but the road to the top was closed for construction. Unfortunately, I don't know the name of the stop or the road. Also, the wine country there is absolutely beautiful. We stayed with my friend's aunt in a San Francisco suburb right next to all the vineyards. If you ever get the chance to go - take it. The landscape is beautiful, especially during the summer when all the hills are literally golden. And though this is a one shot, I have a feeling it may end up in a larger story I'm writing in one form or another.