A/N: Just a little one shot to get me back in the swing of things.
Spoilers and speculation for the whole of season 6 that has aired so far.
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Crap.
She pulled the car over, her front tire had just burst in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in between Vegas and Los Angeles.
She got out the car to inspect it and twists the heel of her shoe on the gravel causing it to snap. She exhales heavily. Fantastic.
She pulled out her cellphone. No service. How typically perfect, she thought to herself.
This week was just getting better and better. First of all, one of her colleagues had gotten mono and so she had been forced to speak at the medical conference in Las Vegas in her place, she hadn't been able to book a flight, and had to drive all the way there. She had broken her promise to him and even though he had said that he understood, she knew that deep down it bothered him. And now this, a flat tire. What was next? Torrential rain in the middle of the desert?
She popped the trunk open and pulled out the spare tire. She wasn't exactly a mechanic, but she had changed her fair share of tires back in the day. Where's the jack?
She rummaged through the contents of the trunk. Spare bulbs, battery cables, water, empty canister, there was no jack in sight.
As if this day could not get any worse.
She slammed the trunk, and leaned against the car. What was she going to do? She had no idea where the next gas station was, the last one she had passed was a good six or seven miles away, and considering the current state of her footwear, there was no way she could walk there.
She heard a car coming her way. Brilliant, now I'm going to get murdered by a homicidal maniac, she thought.
The car slowed down, before coming to a stop at her level and the driver called out, "What'cha doing out here all by yourself, princess?"
She glared at him, unamused, "I have a flat tire."
"And you don't know how to change it," he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. "Don't you worry, I'll help ya'."
She blinked, "I know how to change a tire, it's just that I don't have a jack to change it with. I don't suppose you have one of those in your trunk, do you?"
"Sure thing, Barbie," he strolled off to the back of his car and brought the tool out. "Here you go. Don't suppose you want me to do it for you?"
"I'll be alright," she assured him, she crouched down to to loosen the nuts, realising that her formal business outfit wasn't really suited to the task she was taking on.
"Oh no you won't," he said.
"You think that because I'm a woman, I'm incapable of changing a tire," she laughed.
"Of course not, I have no doubt in your grease monkey abilities, it just doesn't matter seeing that your spare tire is also flat."
"What?" she spun around on her heels so fast she almost lost balance, he caught her by the elbow and steadied her.
"That is just so unbelievably perfect," she vented. "Typical. Just typical."
"Hey there, slow down, sunshine, it's just a tire."
"Just a tire?" she looked at him incredulous, she shut her eyes, took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm not usually this much of a lunatic. It's just been a difficult day. I'm Juliet."
He shook the hand she had extended towards him, "James."
"Tell you what, Blondie. I saw a station back the way. Why don't you hop in my car, and we'll go there, see if they can do something about getting you a new tire."
She sized him up. He looked decent enough. His hair needed trimming and his clothes ironed, but apart from that he seemed okay, trustworthy, not the serial killer type.
"That would be great."
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* * *
.
They settled in the car, the radio was playing 'Somewhere over the rainbow' in low volume. They drove in silence for a while.
"So, anyway, what were you doing out there all by yourself?" he asked.
"Driving to Vegas," she sighed.
"Oh yeah? Funny, you don't seem the type."
"I'm sorry -the type?"
"Y'know, the type to gamble. You look too level headed for that kind of stuff."
"I'm going there on business," she replied flatly.
"Ah, now that makes more sense," he said. "What sort of business?"
"What is this?" she questioned him, slightly defensive. "20 questions?"
He cleared his throat uncomfortably, "Sorry. I was just trying to make conversation."
They slipped back into an awkward silence. The cherry 60s tune now playing on the radio wasn't doing anything to help matters. There was just something about her 'saviour' that was odd, off, familiar maybe. She didn't know, it was weird. She knew she would have remembered him if they had ever met, tall, blue eyes, good looking, Southern, not exactly her kind of guy, but certainly not the kind that crossed your path unnoticed.
And she had snapped at him, he was just trying to be nice, he was taking her to get a new tire out of the goodness of his heart and she had been a right bitch to him. Why did she do that?
Ever since the divorce she had been so defensive, she didn't want to risk getting her heart shattered into a thousand billion pieces again, so she didn't let anyone in anymore.
"You look the type though," she ventured.
"Huh?" he said, confused.
"The type to gamble," she joked.
"Yeah, well you could've been right on that one. But not this time, sugar," he laughed.
"Did I forget to tell you my name? It's Juliet."
She saw him smile from the corner of her eye, "Nicknames are sort'a my thing, Juliet."
"So what are you going to Vegas for if it isn't for the Black Jack?"
"I thought we weren't playing 20 questions," he countered.
"Touché," she smiled. "I'm giving a speech at a medical conference."
"So you're a big shot doctor," he whistled.
She laughed, "I kind of got suckered into this whole conference thing, I'm not much of a public speaker to tell you the truth."
"I'm sure you'll do just fine, Blon-." He corrected himself, "Juliet."
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* * *
.
They pulled up at the station and she went into the shop.
"Good morning, how may I help you?" the elderly man behind the counter asked.
"Do you repair tires?" Juliet asked.
"Normally we do, but my mechanic is off with the flu today," he explained.
"Do you sell new tires, then?"
"'Fraid not, m'am. My supplier went bust last month, I'm really sorry."
"Thank you for your time," she said as they walked out of the shop.
"That's just my luck," she sighed after she had explained the whole situation to James.
"M'am," the little man came rushing out the shop. "I was just on the phone with my nephew, and he said he'd come down and fix your tire for ya'"
"See, luck is coming back your way," James pointed out.
"That's fantastic," she said, relieved. "How long will it take?"
"Well, that's the thing, he lives a bit out, so he'll be here in two or three hours."
"Two or three hours?" she cried out. "But I'll miss my conference."
"Relax," James tried to reassure her. "It's not as if you really wanted to go anyway."
She gave him a murderous look.
"I'm just kidding with you, Princess," he said. "How long are you supposed to be in Vegas for?"
"Just the weekend."
"That's just perfect," James announced. "I'm sure this good man will get his nephew to bring your car down here, and in the meantime you can drive down to Vegas with me, I'm only going for the weekend too. I'll drive you back here on Sunday afternoon to pick your car up."
"I wouldn't want to inconvenience you," Juliet said politely.
"Nonsense. It's no bother at all," he dismissed her concerns. "And we can play 20 questions."
"Is that fine with you, sir?" she asked the old man.
"No problem, just leave me your keys and I'll have your tire fixed by Sunday afternoon."
.
* * *
.
"So why are you going to Vegas?" she asked casually.
"It's my daughter's birthday."
"You have a daughter?"
"Yeah, she's turning four this weekend. Her mom has this huge party planned out with poneys, bouncy castles, clowns, you name it, she got it. It's a good thing she married a rich casino tycoon. Cassidy has luxurious tastes," he commented.
"Do you go and see her often?"
"More now than before," he said. "They used to live in New Mexico, it was harder getting time off work to go all the way over there. Vegas is just next door."
"That's good."
"Yeah. What about you? You got kids?"
"Yes, I have a son," she smiled. "His name is David, he's coming up for fourteen."
"There is no way in hell you have a fourteen year old kid," James commented. "What age did you have him at? Eighteen?"
"Twenty," she paused. "He's great. He plays the piano."
"You sound very proud."
"I am," she smiled.
.
* * *
.
"So why are you driving to Las Vegas? The plane rates are pretty cheap," she wondered out loud.
"I'm not a big fan of flying, and I just got back from a long trip to Sydney in Australia, so I figured, I might as well drive."
"What a coincidence..."
"What's that?"
"My ex-husband," she began. "He just got back from Sydney the other day too."
"Well what do you know, it's a small world."
"I guess it is," she sighed.
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* * *
.
"Here you are," he said as he shifted the car into 'park' just in front of her hotel. "Perfect timing, you might even be able to get a drink before that conference of yours."
"I might need more than one drink before I'm ready."
"No worries. I'm sure you're going to do fine. 'standing ovation' worthy."
"These people aren't really the 'standing ovation' type," she laughed a little.
"Well then a round of applause with a hint of seething jealousy at your brilliance."
"Thank you."
"Pleasure was mine. See you on Sunday?"
She nodded.
"Break a leg."
"Have fun at your party."
"Sure will, maybe I'll get lucky and the clown will make me a balloon dog."
"Who knows?"
"See you."
"Bye."
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* * *
.
She was waiting for him outside the front door of the hotel when he pulled up.
"Hey, how'd the conference go?" he asked as she got into the car.
"Fine, they didn't chase me from the stage with pitchforks so that's a victory. What about you? Did you get your balloon dog?"
"Nah," he sighed. "The clown was a total douche, he said he was only there for the kids."
"But apart from that mishap it went well?"
"It did. I'm not sure Clementine will remember a lot of it, but y'know ..."
"Clementine?"
"I didn't pick it," he quickly said.
"Didn't think you did. Just surprises me that you went along with it."
"Well she already had her name when I found out about her."
"Oh," she said, feeling bad for bringing it up.
"How many guys hit on ya?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"C'mon," he encouraged her. "I spent my entire weekend with four year olds debating on how Dora the explorer would own SpongeBob's ass if they were ever in a cage fight, throw me a bone from the adult world."
She laughed, "None, actually."
"That's impossible," he exclaimed. "What was this conference? A conference for blind top notch doctors?"
"Guys just don't seem to see me," she said, embarrassed.
"That, I assure you, Juliet, is simply not true."
She smiled, she could tell he wasn't lying to her. He was saying what he thought was true.
It was strange though, she had never felt this instantly at ease with anyone before, there was always that awkward phase of getting to know another person that seemed to last twice as long for Juliet than it did for other people. But with James things were different.
They had only spent a couple of hours in each other's company, yet she felt like she was on a road trip, joking around with an old friend.
It was refreshing.
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* * *
.
She got her car keys back from the shop owner and went over to her car that was parked outside. James was standing right next to it.
"Well, I guess this is it, then."
"Thank you so much, James. You saved my life."
"Almost, but not quite," he said.
"No seriously. If I hadn't made it to that conference, my boss would have been breathing fire down my neck."
"Anytime."
They smiled at each other, and he turned away towards his car.
Her heart was beating in her chest, she didn't do things like this, "We should get coffee sometime."
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned back around to face her, "Are you asking me on a date?"
She arched an eyebrow, "We could go dutch."
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The End.