Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with corporate America. Throttle, Modo, Vincent, Lawrence Limburger, Karbunkle, Chef Andy Steinhaur are all original characters of the beloved show, and I don't own them either.

Nor the killer song, 'Not Meant to Be', by Theory of a Deadman. Everyone else is mine.

Chapter 2

Months slowly passed, and with each day, Throttle became more and more like himself again. He was still quieter than before, but that couldn't really be helped yet. Vinne and Modo were just glad to see their bro getting back to normal, and told Charley that whatever she was doing, to keep it up. She smiled and told them that it was all Throttle, she hadn't done anything. And in her mind, she hadn't. Waiting up for a friend to come home wasn't the hardest thing to do, in her opinion.

Although, Throttle still had his bad days. There was one in particular when she thought he was going to smash her radio apart with his bare hands. They'd all been eating breakfast at her place, and Charley had just started the dishes when a new song came on the radio. She couldn't help but hum along, as the tune seemed to fit Throttle's situation perfectly.

'Its never enough to say I'm sorry

Its never enough to say I care

But I'm caught between what you wanted from me

And knowing if I give that to you, I might just disappear

Nobody wins when everyone's losing

Its like one step forward and two steps back

No matter what I do, you're always mad

And I can't change your mind

Its like trying to turn around on a one way street

I can't give you what you want and its killing me

And I, I'm starting to see

Maybe we're not mean to be

Its never enough to say I love you

No, its never enough to say I try

Its hard to believe that there's no way out for you and me

And it seems to be the story of our life

Nobody wins when everyone's losing

Its like one step forward and two steps back

No matter what I do, you're always mad

And I can't change your mind

Its like trying to turn around on a one way street

I can't give you what you want and its killing me

And I, I'm starting to see

Maybe we're not mean to be

Theres still time to turn this around

Should we be building this up

Instead of tearing it down

But I keep thinking maybe its too late

Its like one step forward and two steps back

No matter what I do, you're always mad

And I can't change your mind

Its like trying to turn around on a one way street

I can't give you what you want and its killing me

And I, I finally see

Baby, we're not meant to be

Its like one step forward and two steps back

No matter what I do, you're always mad

And I'm, baby I'm sorry to see

Maybe we're not meant to be'

The sound of a tail lashing against a chair's legs and a jaw clenching so hard the teeth were grinding made her snap the radio off. Everyone sent a nervous glance to the tan mouse, who refused to look at anyone. With a move so quick it sent the chair across the room, he stood and stormed out of the house. They didn't see him again until the next day, much calmer than before.

According to the news later that night, the bar that Limburger's thugs liked the most had burned to the ground.

Charley decided to keep the radio up in her room after that.

The rides eventually came less and less as the weeks went by, the smudges under his eyes gradually fading back to normal as the dreams and nightmares slowly faded from his mind. Every time he came over to see her, though, the two of them would unconsciously sit closer together. Their talks became less and less superficial, often turning to subjects like philosophy, history, and even religion. And yet sometimes they would end up laughing half the night away from telling stories.

She found out that the Martian mouse was a hardcore anime freak, or 'otaku', as he preferred it. (She had laughed so hard when she found out that he had learned Japanese through subtitled animes. Badly subtitled animes, to boot.) Old transmissions from Earth, (about 8 to 11 months out of date) would strike Mars as they traveled through space, and he caught many of the shows on his old home's tv set. That was how most Martians had learned English. Throttle had loved watching Saturday morning cartoons, and the newer animes that would come on in the afternoons, as a child. He liked the original 'Star Wars' movies and loved sci-fi films best, with the occasional docu-drama thrown in, if it had enough gore in it.

"Good Lord," she laughed. "The coolest guy I know is a raging geek!"

"I'm not a raging geek! I worked through anger management years ago," he smirked.

He found out that she had drawn her own comic in high school for her school's newspaper, and it had been wildly popular. But she had loved building bikes more than drawing, and so had decided to be a mechanic. Besides, she could never give up the family business. The Last Chance Garage had been in her family since the 1930's, and she hated the idea of not continuing the family's legacy.

Throttle loved hot chocolate, Charlene hated sweet iced tea. She loved hot Earl Grey, though. She hated dresses and skirts; not out of some bizarre wish to deny her feminity, but that they were just so impractical in her line of work. He thought the occasional tux was alright for weddings and funerals, but absolutely refused to wear a shirt with sleeves any other time. (Charley wasn't objecting. Those arms of his deserved to be shown off to the world.) They both had a similar sense of dry humor, and both could use sarcasm to great affect.

The two friends had learned a lot about each other's personal histories. He told her about joining the Freedom Fighters when he was twelve, brought in by Stoker after he'd been caught swiping food from the Army camps for some of his homeless friends. The older mouse had seen Throttle plan out distractions for the guards, divide and use his available manpower effectively, and bring everyone back in without getting caught. Well, by the Army at least. That had made Stoker bring him to the FF and begin to train him for combat. Throttle had wanted to help get the Plutarkians back anyway he could, and had thrown himself into it with everything he had.

He'd also lied like hell about his age, the only way that Stoker had ever agreed to take him into combat. It had not been pretty when the elder mouse found out his actual age was 12 and not 15. Stoker refused to let him go out on missions for weeks, and had been genuinely sick with horror and worry when he remembered how much war a twelve year old child had seen while under his care.

Throttle first met Modo and Vinnie two years later, in separate units from his. When a huge battle had short-handed the group for an important mission, the three had been put together. The mission went off without a hitch, (Charley figured that meant at least eight buildings had been blown up), and they were assigned to each other ever since.

When they were in battle together, it was all good, when they weren't, Vinnie and Modo were ready to kill each other. It had been a huge personality clash, not to mention that since Vinnie was the younger of the three by two years, Modo had been trying to protect him. That went over like a lead balloon. It really hadn't helped that Vinnie looked ten, and Modo like he was going on eighteen. (Modo had been huge even when he was young, and Vinnie's growth spurts didn't hit till he was sixteen.)

Throttle had point blank refused to let them fight. Every time he caught them at it, he had forced them to find something in common with each other. Turned out that both his bros' bikes were family heirlooms, they loved heavy metal, and neither one of them could sing to save their lives. That had finally broken enough tensions that the two mice could focus on working together and fighting the stinkfish, not each other.

He told her about his bike and learning to ride her from his mother, Cadillac. Martian AI bikes could choose their riders, and the day the bike had accepted him had been up there as one of the happiest of his life. He had learned to jump, slide, drift, do wheelies, even his first flying lesson had come from his mother, who'd once been a stunt show trick rider before the war.

Charley had told him about her mom and dad, who'd died when she was nine years old in a car wreck. Her uncle Ryan, the owner of the Last Chance garage, had taken her in, raising her like his own daughter. She'd learned everything she knew from him, stunning her shop teachers in school with her skills with metal.

She'd had two amazing friends, who were as close to her as any real siblings, probably closer. She had always called them her sisters, and they had called her the same. Lily and Julia had loved cars and motorcycles as much as she had, and were the best riders in all of Chicago. They had been the ones to teach her how to ride, do motorcross tricks, and even got her into racing competitions. Throttle had smiled at that, "Wow, two other girls out there are as good as you? Where are they now? We could always use some more good bikers."

Charley went very quiet from her spot on the couch as she spoke. "My sisters died, hit by a semi-truck that had skidded on the ice that winter, when I was eighteen. My uncle Ryan died six months after that."

Throttle's ears drooped at her words, and he ducked his head a bit. "I'm sorry for your loss. I didn't mean to sound like a jerk."

"Don't say that, how could you have known?" she asked, not unkindly. "It wasn't long after that, a few weeks before my birthday I think, that Jack broke up with me."

Throttle's eyes widened, and his shades slid down his muzzle as he looked at her. "McCyber broke up with you during all that?"

"Said it was too much for him," she said, not a trace of bitterness in her voice. "I don't blame him. That's a lot to ask someone to deal with."

Throttle stared in disbelieving shock at her. "He was your fiancé, wasn't he? He was supposed to be there for you, not ditch you!"

"I didn't ask him to stay," she said softly, unable to look Throttle in the eye. "I wanted him to go. For the longest time after that, I thought"-she paused and shook her head. "No, forget it, its stupid."

He tilted her chin up with a gentle finger so he could see her face. "You thought what?"

"This is going to sound so stupid, but I thought I was cursed," she said quietly. "Everybody was dead; my parents, my uncle, my best friends. I have no family, not one single relative left alive. Its just me. I didn't want something bad to happen to Jack too, so when he wanted to leave, I didn't fight him on it. I just stayed by myself ever since that day."

"For five years?" he asked softly.

"Until you guys came." Her smile lit up the room as she went on. "You have no idea how much joy you three give me"-she blushed bright red and covered her mouth with her hand, unable to face him after saying that. Way to go, blabbermouth.

Throttle found himself blushing, and tried to laugh off his embarrassment with a joke. "You mean we're not just furry pains in the rear?"

She whirled back to face him. "Of course not! What made you think I think that?"

"Nothing, its just-" Oh no, now she looks offended! "I know we put a lot of stress on you, Charley-girl, and we ask a lot from you"-

She shook her head in denial, "No, no you don't"-

"We keep putting you in danger"-

"I know the risks"-

"Charley." His tone made her stop talking. "I know that me and my bros don't say it or really show it, but...we really do appreciate everything you do for us."

She smiled and shook her head. "I'm just repaying everything you've done for me."

He frowned in confusion. "I don't understand."

Charlene paused a moment, trying to gather her thoughts and not sound like some over-dramatic actress. "It was like I was in the dark and you three brought the light back. All the good times and bad, the crazy adventures," she laughed, "it was like coming back from the dead. I'm alive again, and you have no idea how good that feels. I know that I don't say it or show it often enough, but I-I love you three. I-dammit, I'm just so scared that I'll jinx it, that if I say or do something wrong, you won't come home." Well that was epic fail on not sounding dramatic. She sniffed, trying very hard not to cry on top of all this mushiness. God, emotional stuff was so embarrassing.

"Oh, Charley-girl..." He took her hand in his, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders to pull her to his side. The mouse leaned his head against her, trying to comfort her in his own awkward way.

She took a deep breath to try and get her control back. "Just-please promise me, lie and promise me that you'll always come back."

"Charley, it won't be a lie. We will come back to you." He pulled her tighter to his chest, like he was trying to reassure himself as well. "I will always come back to you, okay?"

She tucked her arms around him, pulling herself as close to him as she could get. "You promise?"

"I swear, on my clan's true name, that we will always come back to you," he said firmly. "And Martians have no higher promise than that."

"Thank you," Charley said softly. She nuzzled her cheek against his arm, suddenly feeling very sleepy. She gave a small yawn. "Sorry, I guess I'm getting tired already."

"Already? Its one in the morning," he said. "You've had a hard day." And she had. Seven cars were still outside to be worked on, with both garage bays full of other jobs she had finished a few hours before. He scooped her up in his arms and stood, carrying her to the stairs. "Throttle? What are you doing?" she said with a small blush.

"What does it look like?" He laughed, "You must be tired if you don't know what's going on."

She blushed brighter at his words and the warmth of his body against hers. "Um, you are aware that this can be taken in some very different ways?"

He gave her a confused look before he suddenly blushed in realization. "No, not like-I mean-Wait-I didn't mean it like that!"

She laughed. "Glad we've got that all cleared up," she said in light sarcasm. They reached her room and he put her lightly down on her feet. They stayed in a small embrace, not quite knowing what to do next.

He decided to apologize. After all, she might not have appreciated being man-handled. "I'm sorry, if my carrying you bothered you."

"No, no its fine," she smiled. "You were trying to help me, nothing wrong with that, right?"

He found a small smile at her words. "Nope, nothing wrong with carrying your friends around. Not that I carry Vinnie or Modo around a lot, or ever, really, I just-" he cleared his throat in embarrassment. Yeah, that made a lot of sense to the girl. I bet she thinks I'm a real genius right about now. "With Carbine, I kind of always had to watch it with helping her; she never wanted to seem weak or anything like that. I always wanted to help her, but she wouldn't really let me. With you, its different. I've never really had a girl friend-I mean, a friend that's a girl, before, so I don't always know what to do. I'm not sure what's acceptable and what isn't." He tried to explain his reasoning, carefully leaving out the niggling worry that he would annoy her badly enough that she'd push him away. Carbine had always hated it when he'd been 'clingy'.

"I don't think there are any rules to friendship, Throttle. All you have to do is be friends together. Help each other, support each other, that sort of thing. You just feel what you feel, and move on from there." Sound advice. Should I act on it and see what happens? She blushed and ducked her head, embarrassed. Charley decided to hope for the best and leaned up, giving him a tiny kiss to the cheek as she said goodnight, hurriedly going to her room and closing the door.

Throttle was rooted to the spot for a good five minutes, finally reaching up and touching the spot she had kissed. He slowly walked back down to the living room to get the couch set up for sleeping, wondering about that kiss. Friends kissed, right? Or did she want...was he ready for...

Gods, why did this have to be so confusing? The more she made him feel wanted, the more he wanted her-

As a friend. Only as a friend. He had to keep reminding himself of that. Carbine had been gone such a short time, he didn't think he should be thinking about someone new yet. Especially if that someone was Charley. A part of him still loved Carbine, and he did miss her. So it had to be too soon to be thinking about someone else, right?

Throttle was honest enough with himself to know that he really wasn't much for introspection, but he knew that he needed to get his head on straight. Too much depended on him to be constantly distracted by drama-the Mouse winced. Great. Now I'm starting to sound like Scabbard. He sighed, then laid down on the couch to think. It was still a good idea to work this out, so he tried to pin down exactly what he felt for Charley. She was thoughtful, smart, stubborn as hell, feisty, more than a little nagging, a neat-freak, and downright vicious when something involved her exs (he shuddered at remembering the glee she'd shown when shooting that Van Hamm guy). She was also sweet, kind, compassionate, forgiving, and generous to a fault.

She'd never lied to him, and her words always corresponded with her feelings. She never played with his emotions and her blunt honesty was refreshing after so many years of increasingly catty games with Carbine. But sometimes it was hard to believe that his human friend really did accept him for who he actually was. No one else ever had. All his life, he had been told that he wasn't good enough. Not good enough for his clan's name, or their love. Not good enough to play with other children, not good enough to be a soldier under Stoker. Trying to prove himself to everyone, every second of every day, had nearly driven him crazy.

But Charley never asked for anything like that. She always had a smile for him, always welcomed him whenever he came to her. She only wanted him to be happy. And it was easy to be happy when he was around her. Most things were easier with her by his side. She had helped pull him out of the black hole his depression had sucked him into, and he didn't know if he could ever let her go again. Did that mean that he was falling for her?

Ah, screw it. He put the thoughts of her out of his mind for the night. He'd wonder about it later.