Disclaimer: Tardily not mine.
A/N: Written for ygodrabble Challenge #075 'searching' on LiveJournal. Post-canon. May or may not have come about because I was watching 'A Goofy Movie' and 'After Today Live' on YouTube (go check it out – seriously, it's feckin' brilliant).
The Open Road
© Scribbler, July 2012
She rested one foot on the ground, her bike's weight canted against her inner thigh. Once upon a time she wore shorts and knew the indent of metal against skin made men drool. The effect wasn't so pronounced in jeans, but they were more hard-wearing for long hours of riding. Nevertheless, the mechanic she was talking to had to work to look her in the eyes. Her loose leather jacket was zipped up, which was probably a good thing: once glance at her cleavage and he'd probably be too paralysed to speak in full sentences.
"You're sure?" She reached for her helmet. She knew the answer, but she always asked one last time.
"Sure as sugar's sweet. I'd remember a machine like the one you described." Mechanics always remembered the bikes more than their riders, but she had already been to the diner, the local bar, both coffee shops, the motel and anywhere else she could think of. He coughed into his fist. "You, ah, been lookin' long?"
She fiddled with her visor. "A while." One year, three months, thirteen days and – she glanced at her watch – twenty-five minutes since she first set out. Yep, a while.
The mechanic frowned. "'Scuse me for sayin' so, missy, but… why? Seems to me like you're chasin' someone who don't wanna be found."
"This one wants to be found."
"How can you tell?"
"I just can."
She remembered going to his beach-house and discovering the card she had left; on his pillow next to one she hadn't seen before. She imagined he had picked up 'Freed the Brave Wanderer' while she was off on her own quest to heal herself. It was a message, but not one she understood at first. His neighbours said he had stayed only a month after she left him there. Evidently he was a wanderer at heart, evil cult or no evil cult.
They were both adept at living off the grid. Sometimes she thought about giving up, but then she'd arrive in some podunk town in the middle of nowhere and find a message, a clue, something he had left behind in the hope that she would take that same route someday. He wasn't there, but he wanted to share his journey with her. He had always wanted to share journeys with her, but she had always pushed him away. Sometimes it was just someone remembering a guy with big hair and sad eyes, but that was enough to keep her going. In a way, it was fun. It gave her a purpose she realised she needed after getting her head together, going back to Domino and realising affection wasn't the same as love. She had talked to more scary truckers, Hell's Angels, grizzled old mechanics and bored waitresses than the worst road trip movie scriptwriter could ever concoct.
This mechanic was grizzled, grey and gripping his baseball cap like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how she'd react.
"Thanks for your help." Her motorcycle coughed to life. She still favoured small bikes that could nip in and out of traffic. Whenever she saw massive engines like those in this guy's shop, however, she recalled Amelda disparaging her for holding them up, Rafael looking on impassively and Valon's laughter when she left them in her dust. She couldn't admit to her friends in Domino, but not all her experiences in Doma were bad.
"You sure you'll be okay? It's a mighty long way between here and the nearest town. Not a good road for a young lady like yourself to travel alone."
"I can handle myself, thanks. I've had a lot of practise." Mai smiled, flipped her visor closed and roared back onto the open road.
Fin (?)
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