Disclaimer: I do not own the Biker Mice. I will however, have very small O.C cameos from time to time. They aren't that important. Dealing with the main characters of a certain show is more my style and I would rather have them as the main focus throughout my fictional musings.

Oh, and don't worry about Limburger. He may be gone for that short year, but I've got ideas for him. He's not done yet. It's all part of his "plan" really.

Introduction: "Loss"

It had been Raining…

The A.I bikes being contained by an unbreakable Plutarkian steel cage were rendered out of commission as the battle raged on between the intergalactic heroes and one human. Thunderclaps were rolling hard and demanding in the distance, leaving lighting to be their only source of light.

Shadows echoed off the 'playing field' as the storm raged on- unforgiving; flickers of experienced hands touching skin and aching bones pierced through the air from those who were there to witness it all.

Except for two mice that had found themselves in a fight over a life.

Palm against palm struggled in a waging war with the other, fingertips began to run awkwardly raw in its losing battle to hold on. Doing what they could to stay intertwined, to stay connected at all costs as the lighting clashed yet again, sprouting two straining figures off the edge of a steep cliff in a silhouette. One on solid ground, the other trying to find relief, to hopefully be spared a tragic death.

Throttle couldn't determine if it was really the storm that was becoming so deafening, or the harsh grunting he was spewing from holding onto Carbine with one arm for so long, trying as hard as he could to pull her upward. The weight she possessed was not just hers alone. Something was shot out at her, strangling her feet, something heavy, made of metal, clearly alien and it was pulling her down. Unfortunately, during their run from the Alien Fish race she had been carrying important intel for the regenerator that Stoker had needed. She was a target. Thus, leaving them to break into Limburger Tower, stealing what the enemy had stolen- back. It was all going according to plan until the 'Big Boss' called in reinforcements, leaving the group out numbered and ordered by their leader to fall back and get to safer grounds.

Retreating was the only way, Throttle reasoned.

Carbine's demeanor about it all was unusually calm, collected. Any other person in her demising position would have lost their composure by now. Screaming in terror at the top of their lungs toward their rescuer, and begging shamelessly to not let them die in such a horrible and terrifying way. But Carbine, true to her nature, stayed utterly serene and at peace as an all too familiar lopsided grin of defeat laced along her grey tinted cheeks.

"Throttle", She winced, as a sharp pang shot through her shoulder, mounting in tenfold. "You have to let me go." and she gritted her teeth when the pain inclined even further.

Throttle's shades shifted from the sweat dripping from his brow, bearing his artificial eyes. Natural or not, they still held as much fear and confusion within them, just like the ones he was born with years ago, and on impulse, he gripped the General's hand even tighter. "Not a chance, Carbine." He huffed. "I ain't lettin' you go out this way- not like this."

Carbine slipped further. "Ah!" She gulped, managing to still keep the fear hidden from her pretty face. "You don't have much of a choice!" Her magenta colored orbs flitted over towards the battlefield in front of them, watching their bro's and Charley. They were putting up a good, standing chance. Modo and Vincent were keeping the cavalry at bay, while Charley did what she could to free the imprisoned bikes. If only they weren't subdued, then maybe she would have a greater chance of getting out of this.

"Now isn't the best time for an argument, babe." Throttle growled out. The frustration he had for her was growing by the seconds. He wasn't about to give up on her, no matter what she had to say about it- and to hell with her 'logical' reasoning behind it too.

At this, Carbine seethed toward her infatuation, grinding her teeth together in a silent rage. The wind picking up where it had left off tossed her around the cliff's edge, colliding her body into more rock and granite and she bit back a cry, the seriousness of their situation burning inside her veins. "Then let me make this easier on you." She grunted, the pain in her muscles felt like they were melting through her fur and she lashed out at him in anger, surging what she was going through with her words. "Either you let me go, saving Earth and our home, or you can let them take what they came for; with me dying at their hands instead." And to make her demand of him sounder, she unfurled her fingertips away from Throttle's grasp. His heart jumped as Carbine let go, his expression grim and retching. "It's not up for discussion", she furrowed her brow, "Tell Stoker what you know," a gasp came out from another slip and then, "that's an order, Soldier."

"Carbine?!" Pleaded Throttle, the bile in his throat from such a thought was becoming thick like glue and it scorched the lining of his esophagus, fire flowing hot with every swallow that he took. "Don't!" His hand was growing weaker and he felt her slide further down the length of his arm. He managed quickly, reaching out the hand that kept him sealed to the rock to try and nab her deep red coat for extra leverage, then bending at the knee to gain more control from the ground at his boots. The shades slid off of his muzzle due to the sporadic change in posture- finally finding a resting place at his feet.

Throttle stretched forever and beyond his limitations, his own muscles crying out in protest, but sadly, it wasn't good enough.

He found that his hands were empty. The harsh winds of what was left of her presence tingled on the pads of his fingers, sung in the caverns of his ears and his knees unceremoniously buckled under the loss, his eyes only seeing blackness.

Carbine was gone, but a simple computer chip about the size of a quarter remained in her place on the outskirts of the rocky ledge.

On the distant side of the cliff, within the darkest parts of the battlefield, the 'larger than life' villain deliciously watched on while he held a small flicker of flame in victory full of triumph and sinister lust. "One retched rodent down and only four more to go," he grinned maniacally, strumming his fingers together in glee. "Oh yes… what a glorious victory indeed."

Almost a full year later:

Images kept flashing in a haze as if a light switch had been flickering on and off- off and on- over and over again. Blurry images of his friends clambering up by his side, asking constantly if he was going to be all right, if he was going to make it and eventually come back to the life of the living.

All Throttle could do was mumble something incoherent as he felt the strength of strong arms wrapping around the backs of his legs and shoulders with a few Martian swear words dripping from the mouth of whoever was moving him up and forward. Obviously they were carrying him from one place to another. The quick movement they made caused his stomach to churn and his head to spin sporadically out of control. Nausea filled itself to the brim along the edge of his senses and he burped rather rudely due to all of the fuss.

Then he noticed Charley-girl coming into view from the littering fog. Funny, the last thing he remembered was being passed out at the scoreboard, so why was she here and not working at the 'Last Chance Garage'? He could never forget how she always ranted and raved insistently about not having enough time in her day to get any of her work done. So, why was she wasting her time?

Throttle had again realized, a little too late, that Charlene seemed to be none too pleased at the moment by the look she had toward him, like a stage five hurricane set out on a rampage, its intentions to fully destroy anything and everything in its path and he couldn't stop his reaction as he winced inwardly at the sight of her. An escalading, angry Charley-girl was someone to purposely avoid. She was usually very hard to reason with in most situations like this and it would appear that the poor guy had unfortunately found himself in her line fire, still pretty confused as he ever was.

Then it all clicked together in one full swoop, like a bomb setting off in his brain. It was practically a give in that he wasn't at the scoreboard anymore; if he even was to begin with. He should've known. The scenery was too different, less messy, and it smelled ridiculously clean.

And then he suddenly remembered crashing his bike into her garage door last night, thinking he was totally fit to drive. "Crap." He mumbled under numbing lips and his stomach did another flip-flop from the memory.

…Or was it from the oceanic movement he was enduring right now, he didn't quite know. His insides were screaming, though.

Whoever was helping him at the moment, however, lowered him less than gentle-like into something more rough, cool and hard. The landing ended with him shouting as he hit the steely surface with an unpleasant 'thud'. His ears had squashed against his head, muffling the sound to his skull when it slid against the porcelain. He didn't have much time to react, when a shrieking sound of the knobs turning had caused unruly amounts of cold water to run frantically along his fur.

Throttle shouted out in protest once the artic temperatures fell under his hair and onto his skin, forcing him to adjust into consciousness more vigorously, clearly, and he jumped up in response from the water dispersing heavily from the showerhead above, making him almost lose his already shaky balance to the bottom of the tub again.

"Calm down before you hurt yourself, Throttle." and a low-grade 'furbrain' insult spat from Charley's lips with an all too familiar eye roll. "You keep this up and I'll have Modo knock your sorry butt out… and this time it won't be from something so stupid like alcohol." She finished, whispering again under her breath.

"Gladly," Came a recognizable voice just to the left. "The boy needs a good talkin' to." And to prove his point, the grey mouse slammed his fists together in a simple gesture.

The leader swayed at his brother to retaliate, but Charley mistook it for standard inebriated fumbling and she pinned him to the shower wall with her free hand, making sure that he was standing safely. He knew better than to argue with her and he instantly deflated, mumbling to himself in Martian. "Nah," she said passively. "Save it for when he actually needs it."

"You sure you can handle this meat-head Charley-M'am?" Modo motioned with his head, keeping his arms splayed roughly along his metal chest and standing firmly by her side just in case Throttle decided to lash out due to his less than formidable state.

The girl thought far differently though, and trusted Throttle's judgment. No matter how far from reality his brothers' thought he was. Drunk or not, he wouldn't dare lay a finger on her and she entrusted that knowledge completely, unconditionally.

Confident in herself, Charley nodded. "Absolutely, Mo-"

"Are you sure you even want to, Sweetheart?" Vincent said, cutting Charley off when his head popped in just around the corner of the doorway. The mechanic curled her upper lip at him and scowled once again.

"Yes!" She confirmed, begging for someone to cross her. "Now both of you get out!"

"But, Charely-M'am."

"OUT!" She scolded, pushing the two boys out the door and slamming it shut in a fury.

Charley spun on her heels, laying her back against the wood surface of the bathroom door and with a raise of her hand, she brushed an unmanageable bout of auburn hair from her lashes, breathing in a sigh of much needed relief. The only sound rearing its ugly head was the shower spraying against the miss-matched tiles of the stall.

It was quite relaxing, peaceful really.

It all faded away once she made the mistake by opening her eyes. Seeing Throttle standing there soaked to the bone, clothes and all- just massively drenched from head to toe and looking ever so pissed beyond belief with his tail thrashing about from side to side had Charlene's heart jumpstarting uneasily into her chest. His shoulders were heaving up and down dramatically, starting from the neck as the tension ran vertically through his arms, clenching each hand into tight, unmistakable fists at his sides.

It looked like Throttle had sobered considerably.

"Don't look at me like that." She finally stuttered under his glare, swallowing thickly. Having one of the boys' root beer sounded rather fantastic at the moment as her throat bobbed involuntary at the thought of a cool, refreshing drink being able to heal what ailed her and right now, that included the severely drenched and livid mouse on ice.

The leader's brow furrowed in seething disappointment at his lady friend. He knew his brothers were capable enough to sink this low, but Charley-girl? 'Not normally, no', he reasoned. She was generally more of a talker not a shaker and he couldn't help but feel slightly betrayed because of her actions. It didn't matter if it was something so simple and stupid as being forced into a cold shower. She should've come to him first and talked things out if there was a problem. He would've listened. Maybe. It depended on how personal she got, but he honestly would have given her a benefit of the doubt if she tried.

"Seriously, stop it already." Charley sighed, interfering with his thoughts and holding up her arms in surrender. His cold stare was quickly getting under her skin. "I'm-" no, she stopped in correction, "we're doing this for your own good. Trust me, I-"

"Trust you?" Throttle snarled, lashing out. The force behind the pain in his voice told Charlene to take a step back, to give him some much needed space, and she did- reluctantly. He then roughly grabbed a towel off of the sidebar from his right and made a beeline toward the door, all the while purposely ignoring the girl's jaw hitting the tile floor.

She gasped like a fish out of water, but no sound was finding its way to her center, one that was usually upfront and forthcoming lied dormant in shock. Her mind was reeling in the fact that it refused to find another way to finally catch up with her mouth and she slammed her hand against the door in frustration, blocking Throttle from ever leaving the bathroom. "Now wait just a god damn minute!" She eventually spat out, her green pools filling up with unrushed tears. "I know you don't really mean that," her breathing hitched a little, "so stop trying to come up with a diversion, because you are not moving from this spot until we talk about this!"

Throttle stared at her for what seemed like hours before he gave her any form of an answer; the glasses he wore made it hard to tell if he even blinked at her because he seemed so frozen in place- hardening under her intensified gaze.

"Don't wanna." He finally said hotly in that low, sultry voice of his, rolling his shoulders and slowly trying his best to breeze by her without incidence.

"God, Throttle." She choked back a sob, stopping him in his tracks again. "It's been almost a year since it-" Charley paused for a second or two, attempting to get a hold of herself before she completely lost her composure. "Since it happened." She sighed hard, looking up at him. "Shouldn't you at least try and move on with your life? To see some good from all the bad that's happened? Even if it's just a little bit- hm?"

The golden mouse continued to remain silent as he made another move toward the door. "No!" Charley spoke with heated authority and she made sure her whole body was covering the exit this time around- earning yet another fire filled glare. "You'll have to go through me first, Mr. Stone Cold and Brooding."

With a humorless grin, Throttle easily picked Charlene up from her feet with barely any effort, their noses almost touching upon the jostling lift as he paused before settling her back on her feet behind him, and Charley couldn't help but blush a deep scarlet of red with how close their faces actually were. Her green pools went wide and her lips darted apart when she huffed from the squeezing of his hands on her hips; they were so undeniably close, so very, very close that it left her heart skipping several beats against her ribcage, terrified and thrilled all at once with how he was suddenly making her feel. It's not like she hadn't thought about it, because she had, but he sort-of had Carbine. Still in a sense had Carbine, and her chest tightened considerably in guilt for allowing herself to feel that way about him.

And then she took a minute to gather herself, breathing calmly and gently through her nostrils when the touch of Throttle's warmth had quickly vanished, her feet planted securely onto the floor.

It took all but a few more seconds before Charley heard the door to her living quarters slam shut from the hero's rush of hostility and she cringed automatically once it clashed into its final resting place. "Stupid Biker Mice with their strong arms and irresistible muscular power." She griped with another blush spreading to her cheeks, heading toward the kitchen to grab a beer to try and calm her nerves down, and complaining the whole entire way to the fridge. "Easy on the eyes, but so damaging to my rising stress levels."

Taking her drink over to the couch, Charlene carelessly flopped onto the cushions, thinking a well-deserved nap would be better for everyone involved and that the damage to her garage door could wait.

"Well," she humored lightly, arching a brow. "It's not like it's going anywhere." She took a hearty swig from the brown bottle. "Chances are those fur-balls would wreck it before I fixed it anyway- lost cause, really." And with a passive shrug, the mechanic let her head fall into the plushy arm of her reverie. Silence, finally taking hold of her consciousness.

Author's Note: This would be my first BMFM story. I just hope that you readers enjoy the tale. :D Just know, that I'll do my best with making it a decent story to follow. It's been YEARS since I've seen the show and they are truly hard to come by- there will be minor mistakes here there as far as canon fodder goes, but I do plan on doing more 'random' research about the show to help me along the way. Also, as you might have guessed, this piece will be pretty A.U. as well. So, things will not always take the canon route. For now, the story will be rated a HIGH "T" due to certain adult situations and the mention of drinking alcohol. I haven't decided- if I plan on adding a lemon to this or not. I may just do a separate one-shot for that instead. This will most likely be told in one-shot form from time to time, meaning, that the chapters won't always roll into each other between each installment. If they do, I'll say 'Part 1 and Part 2', okay? Okay. ;)

Side Note: I do plan on uploading a new chapter weekly. The day in which I post- is practically unknown. I have this all written out already, it just needs to be formatted and loaded on to my computer, and that will take me some time, because I tend to change things around, or add things in as well.

So, thank you guys for at least taking the time to read my silly tales about our favorite Mice from Space. I'm hoping to see some reviews! *Crosses fingers* (Love those little things to bits.)

The Spoon :D