AN: who's gonna fix that car? Come on guess!
Things you said that made me feel like shit
He must think her hysterical in the end, uttering a purposefully chosen string of curses to get his attention and waving her arms in the air to be seen. And he sees her, in his rearview mirror, running after him in the middle of a deserted road, white smoke lifting from the Toyota left behind. She doesn't even care at this point, she cannot bother with his judging, all she wants - needs - is to get to Clarke and nothing will stop her, most notably not Marcus Kane.
Convincing him to help her is another issue completely. He can't tow the rental Toyota anywhere with the department's car and he has the nerve to reason with her that finding a mechanic on a Friday evening will prove nearly impossible.
And yet, after a very firm, very little thought out speech about duty and community - "To serve and protect, remember?" she yelled at some point, completely ignoring that he is not a Los Angeles police officer, "I see very little serve here!" To which he raised his eyebrows and his hands - he finally puts the radio to good use.
Thirty-seven minutes and a number of phone calls later Abby is pacing back and forth on the greasy concrete floor of a garage next to the lifted hood of the car, still clutching the ring on her necklace to keep her sanity (and avoiding the dark looks she gets from the man).
"I thought you'd be at Monty's with Collins and the kids tonight," says Sheriff Kane peering inside the car's hood at the mechanic working overtime. He lost his aviators when they entered the shady building off the main road with chipped paint peeling off the walls.
"You got lucky," comes the muffled answer "Finn called to say he was meeting with a professor for his last paper so he's still in Phoenix."
Abby has no idea who these people are and mostly doesn't care. The closest rental agency is over an hour drive away (in Nevada) and a local mechanic is her next best chance.
She's not sure she can trust the dark-haired girl currently burying her head in the Toyota, though; she looks far too young to own the workshop, but she's accordingly covered in grease and looking comfortable around dismantled rusty metal sheets.
Before she goes mental she has to ask: "Is there any chance I can be home tonight?"
Raven Reyes emerges from under the hood, shaking her ponytail free of the protective mask strings and raising an eyebrow. "Not with this car, nope," she admits with a far too melodious voice for that kind of news.
Abby's hope sinks lower and something akin fear starts to coil around her throat.
"I don't know how you did it," continues the young mechanic, "but the engine's busted, it threw a rod and the gasket blew, it's havoc in here," she concludes wiping her hands on a cloth.
"She revved out?" guesses the sheriff, apparently understanding the girl's language. "Just how fast were you driving?" he inquires then looking pointedly at Abby.
"And for how long?" presses Raven. "You exhausted the rev limiter too." The girl looks almost impressed, whatever she did to break the car must be a feat.
Abby - who can't take any pride in it - stands there shifting her eyes from one to the other, open mouthed, unable to grasp the reality (beyond the simple fact she is not getting any closer to home).
"Can you fix it?" she pleads, desperation creeping in her voice.
"Sure," says the girl with a cheeky smile. "But not tonight, unless you have a spare engine," she adds to Abby's utter dismay.
The girl goes on muttering incomprehensible details about the Toyota's sad end and the sheriff nods along while she zones out for a minute, weighing her options. Only to find out she has no real option but to find another rental. When she asks she's met with two pairs of round eyes and raised brows.
"It's Friday night, everywhere's closed," explains Raven.
"And besides," adds Kane with an offended look, taking a protective step between the doctor and the broken Toyota, "You just got a speeding ticket, Madam, not to mention you blew the engine of this one. I would advise no one to rent you a car, ever again. Hell, I should probably suspend your license. You could have caused an accident!"
However much she tries to control it, she can feel her temper rising as she stares into Kane's dark eyes staring back at her. The man is beyond obtuse (never mind he doesn't know the whole story), and too close for comfort, he seems hell-bent on preventing her from going home, one way or another. For whatever - irrational - reason, it feels personal.
Clarke, she thinks, Clarke is all her brain supplies at this point. Despite her efforts her eyes fill with tears of rage and, probably, desperation - that looks like madness to the untrained eye.
If she is honest with herself, she mostly feels guilty.
Raven picks up on her clenched jaw and tensed muscles - matching Kane's - and before sparks and (otherwise better rest unspoken) words fly, she speaks first: "Come on, Sheriff, the lady is already in distress," she says, poking at his sense of duty. "Let's see what we can do to help."
Kane relaxes his stance and Abby takes a strangled breath.
"First I need to know," starts the sheriff with a pointed finger, "Why is it so important you be home tonight? Why the rush?"
She glances at Raven (who's pretending to go back to her tools by the car) and her pursed lips tell her there is no escaping this one. Through gritted teeth, Abby tells them everything.
