Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, other than Nell and Zane.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Incest, Non-Con, Crime, etc.

The next six hours came and went in a blur. I don't remember much about them at all, save for the utter silence of the car as we sped toward our destination. I could tell from the tension in Randy's shoulders that there was something he wanted to tell me, but I couldn't read his eyes. More often than not, they were fixed on the road. But when he would occasionally steal a look over at me, all I could see were two endless blue eyes. And I liked it.

I kind of consider myself a victim of my own imagination, you see. If I can read into something even the smallest bit, then my mind will go on some sort of crazy adventure with it. Maybe that was a byproduct of the crazy house that I lived in, maybe not. All I know is that the minute I was out of there, the overthinking stopped. It was like it had been frozen in mid-thought, and that thought had been about Randy. Now, it was near impossible to get him out.

Not that I minded. Really, I didn't. I could sit there and stare at the older boy for hours, if I were so inclined. He was fucking gorgeous, if you know what I mean. And it had been a long time since I was ever attracted to someone that saw me as a person first, a piece of meat second. I'm pretty sure that, sitting in the corner of the seat in his Bentley, I considered the very real possibility of a future with Randy for the first time. It seemed… nice.

"So, you never told me who you were on the phone with. Y'know, the one you lied to and all." Randy shot me a serious look that sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. I had never liked confrontation.

"It wasn't a lie. If Glen knew the truth, you know that he'd sent us right back to hell." Randy opened his mouth, shut it again, and turned back to the road. "Besides, it feels like I've been in this damn car forever."

Randy's serious look turned evil all of a sudden. "You wanna mock the Bentley? Seriously?" He slammed down on the breaks and, for once, I was thankful we were alone on the road. "One more remark like that and you can walk."

"Okay, okay. Geez, I'm sorry." I tried to brush it off like it was nothing, but we both noticed the way that I had shrunk away from him. Randy's look turned uneasy, before he tapped the gas pedal meekly.

"Sorry, kiddo. I didn't mean to scare you like that. It's just… this car means a lot to me, that's all. But that's not excuse to act the way that I did." It was a rare apology that I doubted I'd ever hear again.

"It was his father's." My own father's voice snuck into my head, uninvited.

I shrugged it off, offering a weak smile. "It's okay, man. And I'm not a little kid. I'm only a year younger than you."

"Yeah, well, until you stop making stupid decisions like running away from home, you'll always be a kid."

That ended our conversation real fast. I think that it was meant to, actually. Randy was still rather hot under the collar about me 'insulting' the Bentley – even though I still don't know how I managed to do that – and I was still a little shaken up from his violent outburst. I knew that the old man had mentioned Randy had a history of IED, but until then, I'd never seen it first-hand. It was rather scary.

I tried to make myself more comfortable on the seat, finding it hard to control my shivers in a car with barely any heat control. It was an older model and most mechanic shops didn't carry the supplies needed to fix it up anymore. It must've cost a fortune to get fixed by professionals, so Randy confessed that he did most of the work himself. When he noticed me shivering, he took a fresh blanket out of the back and tossed it to me. I thanked him. He shrugged.

"You wanted to know who these people are, right?" Randy nodded, his eyes still fixed on the road. Maybe he didn't trust my judgment, and that was why he was so on edge. Or maybe it was something else entirely.

"Yeah. If we're gonna stay with them for a few days, it might be helpful to know their names." Randy muttered sarcastically. He said something else, but it was under his breath and kind of difficult to understand.

"I called my Uncle Glen. Well, actually, he's Phil's uncle. A little mentally unstable, you know the drill."

Randy rolled his eyes. "It seems to run in the family."

I turned to him, a scowl on my face. I was a little offended on my best friend's behalf. "I hope that wasn't a jab at Phil." I said.

"Oh, it was more than a jab. It was a straight-up insult."

"Why?" I asked. I was about ready to take him up on his offer to walk the rest of the way.

Randy scowled. It was obvious he didn't fancy the specifics. "It's common knowledge that I didn't get along with my parents while they were alive, but I know my father loved me. Mark and Phil… well, that's a different story."

I shivered at the mention of Mark's name. "And how is that any of your business?"

"It's my business because your father thinks you want to kill yourself because you stepped in and took the bullet for Phil. He probably thinks you're dead now and if he finds out that I agreed to help you escape…"

"You're only concerned about yourself." I couldn't believe his hateful conceit.

"No, I'm not. I'm concerned about you too, because I know how it feels to lose someone close to you and blame yourself for it. I'm concerned for your father, because without you, he'll die."

"He has Adam." I answered nonchalantly.

Randy slammed on the breaks. I lurched forward, the seatbelt cutting my skin. "He has nobody!"

We stared each other down for a few minutes. I can tell you honestly that, out of all of my dangerous encounters with unsavory men, I felt fear for the first time as I looked into Randy's cold-blooded, snake-like blue eyes. If he was a boa constrictor, he would have slithered around me and squeezed and squeezed, forcing all of the air out of my lungs and rejoicing as I fell over, dead from suffocation. But he wasn't a snake. He was just a teenage boy.

And then I realized that that was what we both were. We were just two teenage boys on the run from a fate that was just a bit worse than death. I knew that I couldn't take another rape. I couldn't take being beaten by those in my own home, and suffering the emotional torture of my father's absent love. And there it was. I had just admitted to my own inner, concealed, conceit as well. I couldn't deal with the pain, so I would make my father endure pain also.

Randy watched me for a moment, and for the first time, I could clearly read his eyes. He was afraid also, but for very different reasons. Randy was afraid that he would lose me, afraid that he would be thrown back behind bars and lose the only friend he ever had. In hindsight, our conversation never had anything to do with Mark or Phil or Dad, it had to do with what would happen to us. If we were ever found, would we be punished for what we did?

Randy stepped on the gas once more, this time even more tentatively than the first. "So, my Uncle Glen, who is really Phil's uncle. He's the one that I called. He and Dad aren't on the best of terms." I started over again.

"Perfect revenge?" Randy asked with a shy, somewhat hesitant smile.

"You know it." I returned it tenfold, trying to make him feel more comfortable. And it worked, to a certain extent. "He had this girlfriend, a redhead named Amy Dumas. They had a daughter Cornelia, but everyone calls her Nell."

"Cute name for a little girl – Nell." Randy's smile seemed to blossom.

"You think so?" Randy nodded. "I think so too."

So, Randy then inclined his head. "Well? Go on."

"So, they broke up when he found out that she was cheating on him with this dude, Matt Hardy. He's Jeff's older brother. Y'know, the one that died in battle?" Randy nodded. "And Uncle Glen married Matt… but we call 'im Zack."

"Anything else?" It was almost a sarcastic question. Of course there was more. I could spend days, maybe even years, telling the entire backstory of Glen and Matt, but that would take much too long.

"And they had a little boy named Zane, who has the most adorable little dimples you've ever seen in your life. He's still real little now, and Zack may even let you hold him, if you ask real nicely…" and so went the rest of our drive.

Matt was the only one home when we finally arrived. He greeted us with a warm smile and a shake of the hand, before ushering us into the living room and telling us where to leave the shoes. That was one of Matt's really funny quirks. He loved to vacuum, which was kind of unusual. And after he vacuumed, you weren't allowed to walk on the floor with your shoes. It tracked mud and all that.

He showed us to our room, which was on the first floor at the end of the hallway. It was the only bedroom on the first floor and it was also their only guest bedroom, so we would have to share. The bathroom was down the hall and he told us that there were fresh toothbrushes in there and the like, but if we had anything to put in there, there was room. And after telling us when dinner would be, he left us to our own devices.

Randy left for the bathroom with his bag, leaving me alone. I plopped down on the bed and made myself comfortable, unsure of what to do. And then I remembered what Randy had said on the drive over. Dad had nobody. Unconsciously, I started to reach for my phone. My fingers knew the number, even if my brain was checked out in Never Never Land. After the third ring, he answered…