Don't Call Me Buddy
Chapter 3
"Gone…And Homecoming"
These characters and places all belong to ABC. They're not mine…which explains a lot.
Note from the author: This storyline is no longer parallel to the actual show…so please don't criticize me! I know…I know…I'm trying to work it back into step…this may take a while.
P.S. Don't blame me! Blame the AMC writers for being so slow! *grumbles something about how it takes a week to get anywhere…*
(Cameron: I'm going to need hosing off after this chapter. *rolls his eyes and claps a hand to his forehead* Why me?)
(Scylla: Because you love it and you know it.)
Kendall fought to keep her expression neutral. She learned from long experience—and of late with Ryan—that one doesn't confront a man about his emotions until he wants to confront them. Not that many men had ever thought her a good enough reason to confront his feelings…Kendall shook her head. This was now, no time to dwell on the past. Ryan used his free hand to cover his incriminating eyes.
"Kendall…" He choked, voice low and slightly rasping. Without a second thought, Kendall stretched out along his side and nestled her head beneath his chin. Her chest warmed as she felt his right arm close protectively around her. Maybe he'll relax a little now. I can't see if he cries now, anyway.
"Kendall, I…think I need to go."
Kendall sat up abruptly. Ryan was looking toward the closed blinds…he didn't see the hurt expression on her face. "Go where?"
"I don't know."
"But you can't! I mean…you…can't!" Kendall wailed incoherently. A smile stole over his features, tinged with…no, that's not pity! Why should he pity me? Ryan looked away again, and snared his pants from the nearby chair. Kendall sighed. "Well, if you've made up your mind, then." A half-formed plan sharpened in her mind. She slipped around him and shuffled through his dresser for a decent sweatshirt. Ryan watched as she disappeared into the bathroom. "What are you doing?"
"Getting dressed. If you're leaving, I'm coming with you!" Kendall answered from behind the door. She waited for him to argue, but instead there was only an agitated sigh, followed by silence. Her heart rose to her throat. Do I dare hope?
She exited the bathroom. The front door was open, and Ryan was gone.
A motorcycle coughed to life and roared away. Kendall leaned against the door and didn't bother to look for the source of the sound; she already knew.
*****
It felt good to be riding his bike again. On the backroad he was currently traveling, it took all of his concentration to avoid skidding into the ditch. Ryan didn't know exactly where he was going…when a massive gray shadow loomed over the next hill and he pulled up. At the side of the huge stone building was a half-decimated tower. Wildwind. The turret. The…mausoleum. Ryan's heart twisted in the old, all-too-familiar hurt.
The motorcycle rumbled persistently underneath him. Sighing, Ryan turned the bike around…
Headlights?!? What the…LOOK OUT!!!
Ryan hauled his slush-splattered machine to the right as a hefty SUV barrelled past, nearly flattening him in the process. The motorcycle's engine complained bitterly as the tires skittered sideways and made for the ditch. Ryan tried desperately to right it…but the half-thawed mud by the roadside provided no traction. Oh sh…he chose "ditch" over "gravel pavement" and bailed off into the freezing muck to avoid being crushed. His bike skidded downhill a few more feet before finally slithering into the ditch as well.
The drone of the engine sputtered and died as it inhaled watery mud. Ryan waded through the knee-deep mire to where his motorcycle lay dead in the filth. Cursing colorfully, he managed to shoulder it into a more or less upright position and leaned it against the sloping edge. It's going to take a week to clean out. "If I can even get it out of here!"
Ryan crawled up the embankment and collapsed in a muddy heap. Who cares about the bike…that idiot almost ran over me! What if I hadn't moved fast enough? What if I…he shuddered and chose to ignore the shock threatening to overtake him. Heedless of the cold, Ryan slid back into the mud to see what could be done about his motorcycle…
…Nearly panting with the effort, Ryan drained his energy reserve to the dregs and heaved the last few inches up the embankment. Stabbing pain lanced through his shoulder as the bike settled onto the gravel. Ryan hauled his own body upwards to rest beside it. He sighed and got to his feet, wrestled with the bike until it, too, was standing, and slowly walked it back to the Pine Cone. One good thing about this, he sneered sarcastically, now I have plenty of time to think.
After all, he had plenty to think about.
Kendall woke from a fitful sleep at the tentative knock on her door. By now she had returned to her own room and, with nothing better to do and no interest in haring off after Ryan (probably a wild goose chase anyway…) she realized just how tired she truly was and decided to take a real nap.
She moved to get up and smiled as a warm, comforting scent wreathed around her. Ryan…? Oh, the sweatshirt. Of course. Still beaming, she swung her door open…
And faced a mud-covered giant looming over her doorstep. Ryan wrapped her in an embrace that nearly suffocated. Clutched tight against his chest, Kendall did the only thing she could force through her brain.
Ryan fought with disappointment and concern as Kendall struggled to extract herself. He relaxed his grip to let her free…only to feel slim arms twining themselves about his neck…and a soft mouth opening to meet his.