Many thanks to everyone who commented, faved, and alerted, I appreciate it!

Chapter 2

In the middle of the night
I don't understand what's going on
It's a world gone astray
~In the Middle of the Night; Within Temptation

"He did say this was just a garage, right?" Vinnie asked, sounding a little dumbstruck.

Throttle didn't answer - he was too in awe. As they followed Alex down a long driveway, the sprawling complex that loomed before them was at least three stories tall. A plethora of sounds permeated the air; rumbling engines, electric tools, a generous amount of clanks and bangs. The sky was dark, but light shone through the rows of windows as brilliantly as stars. If that wasn't enough, the surrounding lot stretched for several hundred feet and was lined with row after row of vehicles. Cars, jeeps, massive trucks - and bikes. A seemingly endless sea of bikes, their color and chrome glinting in the light cast by the industrial light poles positioned around the lot.

Alex led them to a spot near the main overhead door, where the four of them parked and dismounted. They headed inside - the door was tall and wide enough to fit at least two semis - and into the main part of the garage, which was just as big and sprawling as the outside. Lit as bright as day, the room was packed with shelves, lockers and rows of parts, while bikes and other vehicles were being worked on as sparks flew. Multiple levels connected by narrow metal stairways and catwalks stretched out above their heads.

It looked like a mechanic's version of heaven. But one thing it didn't look like...was the kind of place Charley would like to work in. It was too big, too industrial, too informal.

Boots clumping as he crossed the concrete floor, Alex yelled over the din in the room, beckoning to a mechanic. "Hey, Rick!"

He went and spoke to a guy wearing sunglasses and a blue bandana tied around his head. A moment later Alex turned back to the three of them, held up a finger, then started for another section of the garage.

Vinnie and Modo seemed content to gawk for a few minutes more, and so Throttle let his own gaze wander while they waited. To his right was a long table covered in bike parts of every kind, most in various states of repair. He glanced absently down the line, admiring how the metal shapes glinted in the florescent light - and then felt himself stand a little straighter.

"Whoa."

Near the end of the table was a distinctly different kind of shape - a round, firm, supple shape. A rear end to be exact, the most perfect of rear ends anyone could ever hope to lay eyes on, all tight and snug in glossy black latex. That latex clung tight as a second skin, and the real skin underneath had to be as flawless as can be for the synthetic pants to lay so smooth and perfect.

The slender legs extending below looked every bit as perfect, encased to the knee in snug gray boots. The buckles glinted as their owner, who was bent over something on the table, shifted her weight from one foot to the other. It vaguely occurred to him that he was staring a little too closely and with a little too much interest, but...it had been a while since he got to enjoy a sight like this. A little look didn't hurt...though he was starting to feel kind of warm.

The slender yet muscled figure with the perfect backside suddenly straightened, lightly tapping a tool against her palm, as if in thought. She had on standard biker gear - fingerless leather gloves, studded bracelets - and a black halter-top that was tied together in the back by a slim cord, leaving her arms, shoulders and back bare. From the look of her, Throttle noted dryly, it had been a long time since she left the garage and ventured out into the sun.

Either that or she was an albino. Whatever the reason, she had the most ghostly-white skin he had ever seen on a human being. There was a black bandana tied around her head and knotted near the nape of her neck, covering her hair.

Abruptly she set the tool down and turned around, hand on one hip as she rested her other hip against the edge of the table. Obviously his gaze must have turned a little heavy, because the smirk on her lips told him she had been well aware of his quiet gawking. Her other hand came up to tilt the sunglasses she was wearing down a notch, a slender eyebrow arching above them. Her expression clearly said, 'Okay, you checked me out. Now it's my turn.'

He couldn't see them, but he could plainly feel her eyes roaming over him behind her dark lenses. Throttle felt torn between turning away with feigned disinterest - and innocence - and giving her something to really check out...like an absent, muscle-flexing stretch.

Before he could decide either way, a hand suddenly clapped down on his shoulder and steered him away. Throttle felt both annoyed and relieved.

"Come on, tough guy," Vinnie told him, his voice full of amusement. "You're off the market, remember?"

Yeah, I have trouble remembering that sometimes, Throttle thought sarcastically.

They headed over to where Modo was standing just as Alex came back. "I don't know about all this," Modo said in a quiet voice. "I can't picture Charley-ma'am bein' happy in a place like this. No offense," he added, as Alex eyed him.

"I don't know about anyone named Charley," Alex told them, "but like I said, there's a girl here who looks a lot like the picture you showed me. Maybe she's a distant relative or something."

He turned and headed over to one of the stairways, yelling up to someone on the upper level. "I don't think Charley-girl has family her age in town," Vinnie said doubtfully.

"Me neither," said Throttle, "but it's the only lead we've got, so we might as well see it through."

There was rapid movement on the catwalk above their heads, followed by a male mechanic descending the steps. "She's coming," he reported, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

They turned to look as a woman followed the other mechanic down the steps, though she didn't head all the way down to the floor, stopping instead on a landing halfway down. As Throttle blinked at the figure above him, clutching a wrench in her hand, his first thought was, 'Okay, this is too much.'

Being struck speechless three times in one day was really pushing it. The next thing to cross his mind was that this was not Charley. The person he was looking at was such a far cry from the girl they knew, he was starting to question Alex's sanity for thinking there was a resemblance. He glanced absently at the two mice standing beside him and saw his thoughts mirrored on their faces. They looked even more dumbstruck than he felt.

The woman looking down at them was much more muscular and toned than Charley. She was wearing low-waisted jeans, heavy boots, a clunky belt buckle and a top that was little more than a skin-tight black sports bra. The torso this ensemble exposed was tight and ripped - definitely not Charley's torso. The hands that gripped the wrench were encased in black gloves, and her arms were covered by a gray denim jacket decorated with pins and patches.

But never mind the outfit - her hair and face were all wrong, too. Her jawline was too hard-set, her mouth too grim. The lips that frowned at them were darkened slightly with an otherwise neutral lipstick, and her hair...well, it was definitely not Charley's hair.

It was cut short, the edge of it almost even with her cheekbones, and textured a little with gel or something. It was also very, very blond. Platinum blond, with just a faint undertone of golden yellow. The eyes that glared down at them - darkly, Throttle felt - were lined with sultry, smoky black eyeliner, the lashes heavily mascaraed.

Throttle felt a jolt, like a buzz of electricity. Those eyes. They were the brightest of greens, glittering like jewels in the lights.

Charley's eyes.

"Hey," said Alex, momentarily breaking the spell this creature seemed to have cast on them. "Do you know these guys, Sam?"

The emerald-green eyes, which never left them, turned a little harder than they already were. "No. If you don't have anything else to bother me with, I have work to do."

Throttle felt another jolt. That was undoubtedly Charley's voice. Only...it wasn't. This person spoke in that same voice he knew as well as his bros' voices, only lower - much lower. There was something oddly harsh about her tone, too. It sent an unpleasant kind of chill through him.

Vinnie was the first to find his voice and try to speak to the Charley-ish apparition. Without any humor and a great deal of confusion he started to say, "Charley, what-"

"My name is Sam."

The words were spoken lowly, but there was so much force behind them, such finality, that Vinnie shut his mouth. The blond creature looked at Alex. "I don't know any of them. If they start causing trouble, get them out of here."

She spun on her heel and stomped back up the stairs, the metallic ring of her feet hitting the catwalk echoing through the air.

Charley stumbled up to the top floor of the garage and shoved open a door at the back, slamming it behind her. Luckily it was empty; she wouldn't have been polite about asking someone to leave.

"This is not happening," she whispered.

Her fists, which were tightly clenched at her sides, were trembling uncontrollably. Her entire body was. Gritting her teeth, she turned and punched the wall. "This is not happening!"

All her caution, all her careful planning - gone. Two years of effort destroyed in a single instant, and probably because of nothing more than sheer dumb luck. A mere chance that ripped apart everything she had accomplished, everything she had done to hide, to leave behind what she had been. She had done everything possible; destroyed her garage, moved across town, changed her appearance - even her very name.

And it had all been for nothing. There was no way to escape now - they were probably seconds away from coming after her. Of course they were. They never knew when to quit.

"Shit," she hissed out. "Shit, shit, shit!"

A rage of emotion tore through her, and she let it. She tore through the room, too, kicking furniture and throwing things against the already dented wall, yelling every obscenity she could think of at the top of her lungs. The wrench was still clutched in her hand; with a furious growl, she turned and threw that, too.

She let out a startled gasp as the wrench left her fingers - oh god, there was somebody standing there.

But they darted a hand out and snatched the flying tool out of the air, a gesture so calm and casual it may as well have been a lazy swipe to a fly. Charley blinked a couple of times, quivering from head to toe as she took in gulps of air, trying to calm herself down.

Even though the room was dim, Tamerin didn't take her sunglasses off as she absently tapped the wrench against the side of her covered head, her other hand on her hip as she surveyed the room - the damage Charley had done to the room, to be exact. She didn't say anything; she rarely did. But that was what Charley liked about her. She kept her nose out of other people's business.

Still, Charley was pretty sure she wanted to ask her about this. It was hard to tell, what with her eyes hidden and her expression neutral. Which was similar enough to someone else she knew to drag up old memories - not that they needed any help clawing to the surface at this point.

"Want to talk about it?"

Charley snorted and ran her fingers through her short hair. "No. But do me a favor and keep those three away from me."

She and Tamerin weren't really close enough to be called friends - she wasn't close enough to any of her coworkers to call them friends - but she hoped that her redecoration job made it abundantly clear that she wasn't dicking around here.

Tamerin tapped the wrench against her head again. "I'm not sure what you want me to do," she said, her tone as neutral as her expression. "They look a little too fit to just be tossed outside."

Charley snorted and shook her head slightly, her eyes on the female mechanic's impressive muscle-tone. She had seen the ivory-skinned girl lift and carry parts that were a hundred pounds if they were an ounce, and push around men over twice her size when they were asking for it. She was pretty sure she could handle three furry bikers.

Okay, maybe not Modo. Throttle? Probably. Vinnie? Definitely.

"I don't care what you have to do," Charley told her, in the darkest tone she could manage. "Do not let them anywhere near me."

Tamerin wrinkled her nose a touch. "I'll break them in two if you want me to," she offered, putting the wrench down. "As long as they deserve it. Seriously, Sam, what'd they do to you?"

Teeth clenching, Charley tightened her fists again. The tremor she had been trying to will out of her body started to return in a hurry. She stared blindly at a spot on the floor as she thought back on the past two years, remembering every little thing that she had done to bring her to this place - this void she had jumped into, which somehow still wasn't big enough to swallow her up.

Should have run farther, she told herself bitterly. Now you're going to have to live it all over again.

Because they were only going to leave again. Just like last time, when they left her when she needed them the most. But no - she had wanted them out of her life. And they didn't deserve to come back now, to ruin the life she had worked so hard to rebuild.

"I don't want to talk about it," Charley said, her voice quavering a little. "Let's just say they hurt me and leave it at that."

A shadow fell across her gaze; startled, Charley looked up. Tamerin had moved so quietly she didn't hear her step closer. Her slender hand, which Charley knew was as strong as a man's, felt gentle as it rested on her shoulder. "Okay, Sam," she said, her voice turning soft. "You can count on me."