To 'Guest': Of course I'm continuing this story, I would never leave you guys hanging! Thanks again for your review, it always makes me happy :)
It has gotten rather late yesterday – alone finding a motel in this big empty space took some time – so they both slept in. Still Roger insists on a late breakfast at the diner he drove by yesterday. It's not his first choice, but when the other option is going without, he'll take the greasy diner food. He orders the least offensive item on the menu, eggs and toast, while Riggs chooses a platter of the Breakfast Special.
Roger sees what's so special about it when the bored teenage waitress brings their food. It's like a normal breakfast, only everything is fried within an inch of its life. Roger can feel his arteries clogging just from the smell of it. Riggs needs the calories, so he doesn't berate him for his unhealthy choice, but when the younger man offers him a fried waffle, Roger declines.
"I'm good."
Riggs shrugs. "You're missin' out, man."
While his partner works his way through his heart attack-inducing breakfast, Roger surveys the diner. It seems to be stuck in the 50s, sporting old-fashioned vinyl booths and equally old-fashioned patrons. With out-of-state plates on his car and a non-Southern accent, he has drawn some stares yesterday when he went to get their food. Now, in the company of Riggs who so unmistakably belongs here, the patrons go about their business and barely give them a second glance. The only one who gives them any attention is the waitress who brings their check, an elderly woman whose nametag made her out to be Mrs. Garland, but who insisted on being called Lucy. Riggs surprises him by chatting with her for a few minutes.
As they walk back to the car, Murtaugh can't contain his curiosity any longer. "An old lover?"
Riggs makes a face. "Molly's mom used to work here. We sometimes dropped by. Mrs. Garland, I mean Lucy, was always real nice."
Roger can just imagine the ladies of Kerr County doting on the motherless boy. And Mrs. Garland still harbors some motherly affection toward his partner, that much was clear in the way she scolded him with an easy familiarity for not taking care of himself, and also in the way she called him 'little Marty', much to Roger's amusement.
Roger give his partner a sideways glance. "You were really polite back there. That's a completely new side of you, I'm impressed. And surprised, quite frankly, that you've got it in you."
Riggs is walking with long strides, his shoulders hunched. At Roger's words he casts an uneasy glance back at the diner. "Talking to her made me feel like a kid again. I don't think I like that."
After what he has seen, Roger figures that no, he doesn't.
"Riggs, is that a rocket launcher?"
"Yup."
They're both riding in Riggs' truck. It's much better suited to the rough, potholed roads than Roger's car, which has started to make an alarming creaking sound whenever he encountered a hole or a piece of not-yet-flattened road kill. Roger reminds himself to get the car's springs checked when they get back home.
Riggs is silent during the ride, giving only monosyllabic responses whenever his partner says something. After a while Roger has given up and let him be. Instead he has taken to messing with the radio. It seems to pick up only three stations, leaving him with a choice between country music, some preacher going on about hellfire and how they're all going to end there or country music. In the hope of listening to anything else Roger keeps fiddling with the dial until Riggs slaps his hand away and they're left with country music.
So while Johnny Cash sings about how he sees a darkness, Roger rifles around the duffel bag he found in the foot well. Which is where he came across the rocket launcher, and some other bits and pieces that he doesn't know the purpose of. Or rather, he doesn't want to know. The rocket launcher is worrying enough as it is.
Gingerly he puts it back where he found it and says, "So let me get this straight. You didn't bring any toiletries, or a change of clothes, but you brought a rocket launcher?"
"Didn't bring it, bought it here."
"Ah. That's alright, then," Roger deadpans. "But why did you buy it?"
"You never know when you might need a rocket launcher."
"Right. Glad to know you've got your priorities straight."
"Yup."
This time they get there much faster, because Riggs is driving. Which is a good thing, because even after reaching the place just the day before, Roger wouldn't have found it on his own. They left the blacktop behind some time ago and are now crunching over half-overgrown roads and others that don't even deserve the name and most closely resemble dirt tracks. Roger can relax and admire the landscape, which is harsh, but beautiful in its way. And teeming with wildlife. Yesterday the only animals he saw were stuck to the road, plus the occasional buzzard picking at the remains, so it's a nice change. Roger spies wild hares hopping into the bushes by the side of the road, snakes sunning themselves on rocks and a great variety of birds. Once they even have to stop to let a family of armadillos – a big one followed by three little ones – cross the road.
It's early afternoon when they arrive. Riggs parks right where Roger did the day before, but doesn't turn off the engine. The two cops sit there in the idling truck, staring at the house. It's not as creepy in full sunlight, but no less depressing. Riggs makes no move to get out, seemingly transfixed by the sight.
Roger wipes the sweat from his brow and says, in a bad imitation of a Southern accent, "Good lord almighty, a purdy hot today, ain't it?"
The spell broken, Riggs groans with half-hearted exasperation. "Please shut up."
As they walk toward the house, Riggs realizes, with a lucidity brought on by two meals and a good night's sleep, how out of it he was these past two weeks. Which is rather ironic, because he thought that coming back here, where it all started, might help get some of the chaos out of his head.
He's still not sure it was the right decision to get his old man transferred to another prison. All his life he wanted nothing more than kill his dad or at least forget him for good. When the man forced him to come down to Amarillo and talk to him, an apology was the last thing Riggs expected. It really threw him. He wants to be angry, because after all the guy has done, he thinks a simple apology is going to fix it? Talk about too little too late. But he would be lying if he said he hasn't longed for it.
Then, later, when he saw him in that hospital bed, his dad looked so completely unlike the terrifying figure he used to be. Riggs just couldn't leave him there to die.
And Molly... Things are really good between them. Being with her and her amazing kid makes him happy. Which of course makes him feel like a traitor, because he owes Jake everything. Taking away his family is not how he intends to repay his debt. Occasionally a rational thought pops up and reminds him he can't really take them away, since Molly is her own person, able to make her own decisions. But he has experienced the intense pain of losing your wife and child himself. It's not something he would wish on anyone, least of all his best friend.
Then of course there's the feeling of betraying Miranda and the family he could have had with her...
It just got too much. He had to get out for a while.
But seeing this place only made things worse. A continuous undercurrent of danger that no amount of drinking could lessen made him jumpy and paranoid. Without an enemy to shoot he has taken some drastic measures. Which he should probably warn Roger about.
"By the way, careful where you're going."
"There could be rattlesnakes, I know." His partner doesn't stop walking. "That's why I'm wearing my motorcycle boots, even though I'm sweating like a pig in them."
"Yeah, but there could also be tripwires."
That freezes him in his tracks. "What?" Roger yells, before lowering his voice to a more normal level. "Why would there by tripwires?"
" 'Cause I booby-trapped the whole place."
"But– why?"
Riggs just shrugs, unable to explain the reasoning behind that to his partner.
Murtaugh shakes his head. What is it with SEALs and trip wires? Good thing he decided to go straight inside or he would have been blown to kingdom come.
