Summary:

Darcy's running late, but should she be glad she made it to the bus on time?


The judge hadn't been even a little understanding about the fracas on the highway. What was she supposed to have done? Been late for work? Not followed the ambulance through traffic?

The answer to those last two questions was a resounding Yes! Fucker.

Which, hindsight being 20/20 and all, she probably shouldn't have said while she was still at the podium trying unsuccessfully to plead her case.

Darcy Lewis: license suspended 90 days, plus traffic school and, oh yeah, here, pay this mountain of fines.

Fucker.

Fucking fucker.

So, yup, life was made just a little bit more difficult, just a little more disgusting, because she's always running just a little late. Not that her date with justice had cured her of that, oh no. It's just now being late meant actual running, rather than running red lights and speeding "recklessly".

Her bag slammed into her hip as she ran flat out for the bus that was starting to pull away from her stop. With a burst of speed that had coffee sloshing out of her cup to trickle burning hot liquid down her fingers and hand, with smoke stinging her eyes from the cigarette dangling from her lips, she slammed the side of the bus with the flat of her palm a couple of times as it started to pull away. "Sam! Sam! Come on, man!"

The bus stopped, and the door squealed open as Darcy hurried to get on. "Nuh uh," the bus driver, Sam, said with a wag of his finger. With a sigh Darcy chucked the half smoked cigarette into a garbage can after rubbing it out on the sole of her shoe. "When you gonna stop that nasty habit, Dee? Don't you know everybody else in this godforsaken city has quit already?"

"Oh, you know," Darcy said as she swiped her monthly fare card, "About never? Somewhere around then."

Sam tsked as he shut the door behind her, "Don't you spit on my bus, Darcy. One of these days I might not stop for you, not with that attitude."

"You're too good to me, Sam, too good to be that petty," she retorted as she slung herself into an empty bench. She popped a piece of gum into her mouth before pulling out her kindle and settling in for her hour plus commute. Of course, little things like ear buds and reading material wasn't a deterrent for the tourist in the seat behind her - why should it be? He hung his hands over the seat back and started yammering to her about something, and Darcy just didn't have it in her to be polite.

A quick maneuver had her gum wrapped around her index finger, and she waved it in rude tourist's face, "There's gum on my seat! Gum!" and moved to a different bench. Thank god for a fellow woman who wanted to read, and had no interest in trying to peer down her top.

"Sorry," Darcy said as she slid into the empty seat next to grey haired Gloria, who smiled in commiseration momentarily before going back to her book.

As the bus accelerated from her stop into traffic, more banging came from the back of the bus. Darcy ignored it, feeling slightly bad for the poor soul who'd run afoul of Sam's I ain't stopping in the street rule.

Used to the movements of the bus, Darcy braced herself slightly as Sam braked for a light. People started turning around, glancing back towards some sort of commotion. She pulled out an ear bud just as more banging started up again. Startled, she cranked her neck to look out the windows. Some dude in flannel was running flat out after the bus, while Sam muttered about crazy people who should just suck it up and wait for the next bus. With an unexpected burst of speed, the bus lumbered up the onramp and left the weirdo standing in traffic.

Since the show was over, Darcy toggled the volume in her ear buds a up scoatch and settled in for the rest of the ride. They were still going relatively slowly, but as they got further away from the onramp, they should pick up speed. Her book was rather engaging, so she didn't really notice at first how her fellow passengers had again started to press up against the windows and talk amongst themselves.

When Gloria clutched her cross, and started murmuring prayers, Darcy finally looked up and realized what was going on. Captain Flannel was in a Jag, a really sleek convertible model that cost about four years worth of her annual salary, standing in the passenger seat, waving his arms and screaming at Sam. His driver's dread locs were whipping in the wind as he tried to maneuver the car around traffic, while still keeping them near the front of the bus.

Darcy gulped down the rest of her coffee before she got up and carefully made her way to the front of the bus. She had just grabbed the handlebar mounted to the divider behind the drivers seat when she heard Sam gasp and start cursing louder than he usually did. She looked at Captain Flannel and the piece of paper he'd been holding flew out of his hands and plastered itself to the windshield for just long enough for Darcy to read it.

THERE'S A BOMB ON YOUR BUS

Holy shit - she was going to be late for work, was her first thought, followed closely by, holy shit - she might die. "Pull over, Sam," Darcy urged, and put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Sam decelerated, putting the blinker on as he prepared to try to ease them across the lanes of traffic, but that made the guy in the Jag frantically shake his head and make motions that Sam shouldn't do that. Captain Flannel looked down at his driver briefly. He climbed over the seat to wedge himself in the small space behind the drivers seat. At the same time, the car swerved to the side and pulled next to the bus's door.

Darcy leaned forward and said softly, "I'm not so sure you should let him in, Sam."

"He's got a badge, Dee, and you saw what that note said, right? And hey, get your ass behind the yellow line, girl," Sam smiled tightly and flicked a couple of switches on his complicated dashboard. "I'm gonna need you to engage the override," he said, pointing to the door, "Quick, that button at the top there."

Time did that weird thing where it slowed down to a crawl, even though she knew that the events happened quickly, as the first rush of adrenaline hit her bloodstream. She heard clearly the protests of the other passengers, that she shouldn't touch that, even as Sam yelled for everyone to quiet the fuck down. The button was covered in grease and grime, and her finger slid across the surface as she pushed it, leaving a semi clean streak.

The doors slammed open and air burst through, pushing her back as the people behind her started getting really loud, screaming, really. The sound faded away as the crazy man leapt from the back of that beautiful car that was swerving closer, and landed with a thump like a bowling ball being dropped, halfway through the door. His legs were hanging outside, construction boots bouncing against the pavement as he struggled to pull himself inside. Belatedly, Darcy stepped forward, grabbed his belt and yanked as hard as she could.

Somehow, he ended up on top of her, sweaty but smiling like a lunatic. "Thanks," he said and pushed himself to his feet, before holding out a hand. She was lifted easily to her feet the instant their palms met. The rush and howl of the wind was gone, leaving only the cacophony of voices and rumble of the engine. Captain Flannel leaned forward to talk to Sam, something she couldn't make out, and the bus jerked to the side.

Darcy barely caught herself, and fell awkwardly in the bench reserved for the disabled. As she looked out the window, she saw the Jag try to avoid a slow mini van, and crash right into the offramp barrier. A plume of water shot straight up in the air, and all she could think was that poor car. A loud voice cut through the chatter, "I'm LAPD Lt Jack Odinsson, and I am not here for -," a shot rang out, and time sped back up, faster than she could process.

The sketchy little blond kid, who usually was too twitchy to stay in one seat, was being wrestled to the floor by the giant construction worker and the tourist. Jack pushed them out of the way, picked up the skinny boy up by his pants, carried him up the stairs to the back of the bus, and cuffed him to the overhead bar. Gloria was praying loudly while Mrs Chin was pointing a tremulous finger towards the front of the bus.

Sometimes, there comes a point in one's life where action must come before thought. She could hear Captain Flannel back there, talking loudly, but this took priority. "I need help up here!" Oh. God. Don't think about it, just keep pressing down. "Keep it together, Sam, just for a little longer," Darcy said with more calm and confidence than she felt.

The giant bounded over when he saw the blood leaking down her elbows. She couldn't think about that right now, or the sticky-slick texture running between her fingers might make her throw up. Huge construction worker shrugged off his shirt, "Lucky it's before work," he remarked, and wedged his folded shirt under Darcy's hands.

Jack pushed himself to the very front of the bus, grabbed the steering wheel, and told her that he would need her to slide into the seat as soon as they got the driver out of the seat. "Sam, his name is Sam."

There were more passengers crowding around her, and someone pressed their hands over hers. "You ready?" Jack asked after she tugged her hands free, but Darcy couldn't speak over the bile in her throat, so she just nodded. "Ok then, on three, everyone. One, two, three." Sam was lifted out of the drivers seat and the bus slowed down from sixty quickly. Darcy slid into the seat, looked under the dash to make sure about the pedal configuration and pushed the gas. The speedometer leveled out at around 56 mph.

Jack let go of the wheel after she got settled in, and leaned in close, "You got this?"

Darcy looked at him like he was fucking nuts, because it's definitely a little late for that question, "Yeah, dude. It's just like driving a really big Miata."

He grinned, thus proving, at least in her book, that he absolutely had a couple of screws loose, "Make sure to keep it above fifty." His expression grew serious, "It's life or death, ma'am. Stay above fifty."

Jack stood, and faced the passengers, "Ok, let's do this again without anyone getting shot. My name is Jack Odinsson and I'm a Lieutenant in the LAPD bomb squad. I don't care about anything you might have done because I am not here for you.

I'm here because there's a bomb on this bus." The noise level in the back erupted, and Jack tried to shout to be heard, but it wasn't working.

Darcy grabbed the mic, and switched it on, "I need everyone to shut up and listen!" Feedback screeched through the speakers after she yelled. Silence.

"If our speed drops below fifty, the bus explodes. If anyone tries to exit the bus, it will explode. I know you all are probably freaking out right now, and that's normal, but I really need everyone to be calm and quiet, so I can handle this situation. I'm trained for it, and have the support of the best squad in the country. Just stay calm and we'll all get through this together." He turned around, "Thanks, ma'am."

She glanced over, and he was digging into one of his many cargo pockets, "Darcy."

He looked up as he pulled out his phone, "What?"

She managed a smile, because he looked so frustrated as he glared at his phone, "My name. Darcy. Not ma'am."

"Oh, well then, Darcy, do have a cell I can use? Mine didn't survive entry."

Her purse was somehow still slung over her shoulder, "Sure, it's in my purse. Somewhere. Here take it, I don't want to let go of the wheel for long enough to root around for it." Darcy unclenched her hand for just long enough for Jack to slide the strap free.

"There's nothing in here that's gonna poke or stab me, right?" He sounded dubious about sticking his hand in her purse, which was understandable considering all the junk in there.

"No. Wuss. But I should probably mention that my license is suspended," she glanced over at him.

"For what?"

"Speeding."