Unreasonable Addiction
Chapter 7: Transition
By Yumegari and LRH
Clair woke to a cramped neck and a sense of acute disorientation. Bird song and the back seat of Brandon's SUV did not generally figure into her morning. She sat up groggily, pushing her hair out of her face and yawning. She looked at Otto, who was still snoring, one arm loosely around her waist, and remembered yesterday. She rolled her shoulders to work out the kinks from the night, collared Frank from his adopted bed on the drivers's seat, and opened the door that Otto wasn't leaning against, getting out to stretch.
There was a brightness around him. And he felt a little colder for some reason. He blinked his eyes open, seeing that the sun had come up, and pushed his shades back up the bridge of his nose. Clair had already woken and was, he could see, now, outside the vehicle, stretching. At least that accounted for the chill. He watched her through the open door.
Blinking groggily, she linked her fingers and stretched her arms up as far as she could, rising up onto her toes and arching her back. It was a fair morning, with just a damp chill left from last night's rain. She ran her fingers through her hair again, trying to wake the rest of the way up.
"Mmmmh," he said, rubbing his face. He yawned and blinked, watching her stretch further. Ordinarily, it would be a pleasant sight, indeed, but he was too sleepy still, to register more than the neutral observation.
She turned around, tugging Frank's leash to keep him away from something dead in the grass. "Oh, good morning," she noted sleepily. "I'm not much of a morning person. How 'bout you?"
"Mmh," he said, pushing himself further upright. "For the longest time I was happily in denial that morning even existed," he mumbled.
"It'd be nice if that would work, wouldn't it?" she agreed. "But it rarely does." She got back into the backseat and shut the door, setting Frank in the far back. "I'm not ready to get going, just yet."
"Why, what are you planning on doing instead?" he asked, eyeing her.
She leaned against him again, looking at him from under a raised eyebrow. "I was planning on going back to sleep," she said, overly innocent as one hand drifted up to lie against the angle of his neck. "Did you have another idea?"
"Hmmmm," he rumbled. "I might." He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the knuckles before moving to the tip of her index finger, his lips closing around it.
She smiled, moving closer and kissing him on the corner of the jaw, letting him keep her hand while she moved down, planting tiny, feather-light kisses down the line of his neck to his collar. "I like your idea," she murmured.
His breath caught for a fraction of an instant, then he sighed. "Really?" he purred, her finger still against his lips, "I'm told my ideas are usually brilliant." His other arm curled around her, pulling her closer to him, and he placed her finger between his lips again, tongue grazing its very tip.
"I can see why," she answered, pulling her hand away and replacing it with her lips. "Genius and all, you know." She opened her mouth against his, tongue flicking against his upper lip.
His arms tightened around her and his lips captured hers in a long, deep kiss. He growled softly in his throat, hands creeping up her back and down again. The heat from his body was already intense, fingers little hot points against her spine.
She could feel his warmth straight through her blouse, burning her in a way that she never wanted to escape. She arched against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders, holding him as close as he held her.
Some time later, she claimed another light kiss from his lips as she lay under him, smiling. "You were right. We are both needed."
"Mmmmh," he sighed. "Indeed." He rested his head against her neck, lips occasionally kissing the salty skin there.
Clair began to feel the pressure. "Mm," she said reluctantly. "I hate to move, but I can't draw a deep breath."
"Nn? Nnnh." He pushed himself upright and winced, hissing with pain, one hand going up to the bandage on his shoulder. He looked at it, seeing it was stained red again. Clair sat up, pushing him back so she could get the bandages in the light. She peeled them up, looking under the edge. "It's opened up again," she said guiltily. "I'll re-bandage it."
She leaned over the seat, grabbing the new first aid kit from under her toppled stack of books. She opened the little sterile paper packet of gauze and the roll of tape. The bullet wound was bleeding sluggishly. She pressed a new pad to it, holding it there firmly.
She taped the fresh gauze down snugly, then kissed the shoulder in benediction. She felt so incredibly serene right now, warm and safe.
He sighed, rubbing his shoulder, and thoughts seemed to return to him, though this time he wasn't sure he wanted them to. He curled an arm around her and kissed her lips almost absently. The desire to simply stay like this was a natural one and a strong one, but the back of his mind kept nagging at him that this was not exactly the time or place to start enjoying life. Get back home, first, then explore this odd contentment. Get back home, get your actuators back, get some sleep, explore contentment. With a plan in mind, he looked out the front window. "This isn't the place to linger," he murmured, his lips against her cheek.
Clair nodded reluctantly. "We should get going."
He sat back, carefully slipping his shirt on over his injured shoulder, and buttoning it. The vague thought that it sure was good to have both hands again made itself felt. As he shrugged his coat back on with the question "What ever did you see in that boy?" He looked about the interior of the vehicle, noting the irony of her having stolen her boyfriend's most prized possession only to sleep with someone else in it. A smirk crossed his features.
Climbing back into the front seat and finding her shoes where she had kicked them off last night, she paused to consider that. "I'm not sure. We met two years ago, when I did a lecture on genetics and neurological disorders at his university. He made some... very flattering comments afterwards, and things progressed from there." She thought about it some more, pulling her socks on. "It might have been the violin. He could play beautifully. Not emotional, though. Precise. Some of the critics call him mechanical. Watching him play..." She looked up, her eyes distant. "Was a little like watching you, when you stand perfectly still, all movement expressed through the actuators."
He tilted his head to the side slightly, regarding her as though seeing something new about her. Perhaps he was.
"When he lost his scholarships a few months ago, I let him move in with me." She tied her shoes with a complicated knot. "Big mistake."
He raised his eyebrows at that. "I almost hesitate to ask why," he remarked drily.
"Well, you met him. As soon as his stuff was moved in, he developed this edge to his personality that I'd never seen before. Always wanted to know where I was going, who I was going to be with. Making comments about what was appropriate behavior for a woman like me." Her voice hardened slightly. "Always treating me as if I were too weak to do anything important, too delicate to be of consequence."
"Hnnnn," he said, staring off and thinking. His eyes flicked to her again, behind the sunglasses. "Delicate, yes," he mused. "But not fragile..."
"No," she agreed, smiling at him. "Just don't treat me like glass. I won't break."
"You haven't yet," he murmured, drawing the back of his hand along her cheek. Then he blinked and sat back, pushing the shades further up on his nose. "Where do we go from here?" he asked, though whether he meant right now or their future was a little unclear.
She found her glasses on the dashboard and put them on, blinking as the world came into focus. "Do you mean where we're going right now? Or where we're going, as in our future?" she asked seriously, turning to look at him.
"The future can be planned later," he said contemplatively, still looking at her. "And it will be. I meant now."
"East," she said simply. "We're just a few miles south of the TransCanada Highway, which runs coast to coast. We'll be there in about a week, I think."
"Hnnnn," Octavius said, gazing thoughtfully out the window. "Not the route I would have taken, but it will probably throw them off the trail a little more." He settled in. "All right, then," he nodded. "Let's go."
That evening found them at a gas station in a small mountain town. Clair turned off the engine and put her head down on the wheel for a moment, sighing wearily. "You get to pump the gas. I'm going in to get food."
He raised an eyebrow at this, but left the vehicle and approached the gas pump, only to be confounded by its esoteric protocols. "Hnnn," he said, puzzling over it. "Credit card... no credit card," he mumbled, pressing buttons. A few beeps and a clunk later, the nozzle sat poked into the gas tank and he leaned nonchalantly against the vehicle. A family with a gaggle of small children walked by and the children stared openly at him. He glared icily back and they squeaked, scurrying to the other side of their mother for protection, peeking out at him from behind her and each other as they made their way to a large van. He shook his head and looked up to see Clair exiting the station with a huge armful of food.
Clair looked at the kids, who were shooting anxious glances back at Otto while their mom loaded them into the van. "That's a useful skill. I paid for 30 worth of gas, which will bring us pretty close to a full tank." She opened the back door, putting the bags of chips and bottles of juice where she'd be able to reach them from the driver's seat.
He looked past her and decided suddenly that he was hungry. Though for her or the food, it was difficult to discern. Nevertheless, she was in range and standing still, presenting the perfect target as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, teeth nibbling lightly at her neck. "Nnnn," he mumbled against her neck. "I just realized how hungry I am..."
Clair twisted out of his arms, laughing, and tossed him a bag of oreos. "It'll take us a month to get there if we stop every time we get ... hungry."
He blinked momentarily at her, watching her climb into the driver's seat, then re-entered the vehicle itself, tearing open the bag and stuffing a cookie in his mouth. "It'f your fault," he muttered around the mouthful.
"Mine?" she asked in mock indignation, buckling her seatbelt and starting the engine. "Hardly." She shot him an appreciative sideways glance as she pulled out of the station and back onto the highway. "Not completely, at any rate."
"Oh?" he asked, a smirk on his face. "May I remind you, you are the one who made the first contact and started everything in motion."
She smiled, remembering. "Ah. Right. I did, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," he rumbled, obviously thinking back on it. His eyes flicked up to hers. "No turning back, now," he said.
She reached out for his hand, wrapping hers around it. "No."
"You realize this... good," he said quietly, contemplatively, his fingers curling around hers, thumb rubbing against her knuckles. There was a hint of something dangerous to his voice.
She looked over at him. "What's on your mind?"
"A great many things," he said quietly, releasing her hand so that she might drive with it. "One would think we've just changed our lives completely by doing this."
"It's not the first time I've changed my life because of you," she said easily, headlights reflecting off her glasses. "This is a better change."
"Is it?" he asked. "You were safe there, you know. Much more chance that you'd live out your days in peace. The life you're rushing into like this will not be pretty. It will not be easy. And it may be short."
"But it will be my life," she said. "Not a file in an office and a fake name."
He looked sideways at her. "You wish to live your life as you see fit," he said, eyes off in the distance. "Free of the ordinary expectations of the world."
She nodded. "Free of all of it. I know that I could do so much more if I were just free from the rules."
"Heh," he said, dropping his head, a rueful expression crossing his features. He reached down and plucked a water bottle from the pile of drinks, opening it and taking a long pull. "They stand in your way, don't they?"
"Some," she admitted ruefully. "Not as much as they were meant to, obviously, but I made concessions to them."
"Hnnn," he growled softly. "A mistake, I've discovered. Make concessions and the next thing you know, they change everything and leave you vulnerable." His brows met, scowling darkly over the rims of his shades.
"I'll remember that," she said, nodding once.
He said nothing, staring out the window darkly, and took another pull of water.
The snow sped by greyly, punctuated by rows of pine and cedar trees and the occasional house. This stretch of highway seemed interminable, and Octavius suddenly found himself wishing he had something to read. The CD collection had provided a little entertainment, but the same CDs over and over will bore even the most single-minded of individuals. He looked out the window, vaguely glad that it wasn't sunny. The snow would have proven painfully blinding, as it had on a few occasions, causing him to lurk in the backseat where the windows were darker. Now, however, he sat in the front passenger seat, the thing pushed all the way back and his feet on the dashboard. He looked sideways at Clair, seeing her nearly nod off before wearily looking up again. "I don't think falling asleep would be advisable, here," he said.
"I'm trying," she sighed. "Driving all day gets a little exhausting." She shook her head to clear it, sitting up straighter. "I'll be fine. I just need something to drink." She fished a bottle of Sobe out of the bag behind her seat with one hand, then struggled with the cap. "Maybe we'll stop somewhere soon, and I can take a break."
He nodded. "A rest would probably do you good," he mused, returning his attention to the scenery. The very next exit advertised a rest stop and he raised his eyebrows. "That was quick."
She took the exit and pulled into the rest stop, then looked at him, still lounging with his feet on the dash. "That's it. You're learning how to drive so you can take a turn."
He stopped, the water bottle still in his mouth. "I'm what?" he said around the opened cap, his eyes tracking toward her.
She unbuckled her seat belt, getting out. "You're going to learn how to drive. It's not hard, and I want a turn to sit back."
He eyed the steering wheel and controls. Then his eyes flicked to her. Back to the controls. Back to her.
"You don't want to?" she asked innocently. "If I have to drive all day, I'm going to be comatose tonight."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Your negotiating tactics leave something to be desired, but ..." he growled. "Curse you." He left the vehicle and walked round to the driver's side. "Curse you," he said again, standing over her.
"Me?" she asked, looking up at him, still innocent. The only other sound in the deserted parking lot was the traffic on the other side of the trees.
"Yes. Curse you," he growled softly. He leaned over her, his lips moving over her good ear and her neck. "This is unconscionable, you know, that someone should have such leverage over me," he murmured against her neck.
"Only fair," she said, nipping his ear lightly. "After all, I am completely at your mercy." She sighed melodramatically, and smirked.
He smirked as well, against her neck. "Oh, yes." He pulled away and opened the driver's side door, reaching in to push the seat back, and climbed in, seating himself and looking down at the gauges.
Smiling triumphantly, she ran around to the passenger side and stretched out. "Alright. The pedal on the left is your gas, and brake on your right. This lever here will put it in gear. Put your foot on the brake and pull that down so the little orange arrow is on D for Drive."
He frowned at the gearshift and complied. The whole vehicle lurched forward as he slammed his foot on the brake. He let it up, slowly, and they inched forward. Lurch, lurch, inch, inch, and his face wore the kind of intent expression usually reserved for incredibly delicate bomb construction.
"A smoother touch," she said helpfully, holding onto the dashboard. "If you brace your heel against the floor and just use your toe, it's sometimes easier."
He flicked a glance at her before easing his foot down to the floor. Their lurching smoothed out. A little. He frowned. "It should not be this difficult," he growled.
"It's harder than it looks, at first," Clair answered. "Try and smooth this out, and remember to turn before you hit the end of the parking lot."
He raised his eyebrows, his eyes glued on the view ahead of him. "Thanks for reminding me," he growled. They lurched to a stop again as he pulled the wheel to the left, then continued lurching forward, angling to the side. His face twisted in concentration. Grrrrrrr...
"Relax," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "It's easier if you're relaxed."
He took a huge breath and let it out, foot easing up off the brake. The vehicle eased forward and rolled slowly along. He watched the parking lot like a hawk for the out lane.
"Alright, great." She nodded. "Now, try the gas pedal, slowly."
He narrowed his eyes, looking at her sidelong. "I think I understand this by now," he growled, and pushed down on the gas pedal, but his foot slipped, and he jammed it down out of reflex, and they shot forward.
The SUV bounced over the low curb at the edge of the parking lot into a snow bank a few feet deep and stopped. Clair closed her eyes, working very hard to hide the smile that would not have helped matters. "That's okay," she said when she could control her face again. "With your foot on the brake, move the gearshift to Reverse, and back us out of here."
He bared his teeth, fingers tightening on the steering wheel, and growled. He put the thing in reverse and stomped on the gas pedal. The tyres spun. And spun. And ... spun. With an ear-rending squealing sound, they continued to spin.
"Stop," she said immediately. "Now, try giving it gas again, slowly. And turn the wheel just a little to get some traction."
He stopped. Eased down on the gas pedal. Turned the wheel. The SUV rolled backward out of the snowbank. "Now that's more like it," he growled, and pressed down on the gas. The thing swung to the side, tyres squealing, and smacked trunk-first into a second snowdrift, snow poufing around them and rolling down the windscreen. Octavius went very, very still.
Clair pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle laughter, her eyes dancing. It took a minute before she trusted herself to speak. "Do you want to try again?"
"Snow is something that is grey and wet and sticky," Octavius growled, putting the thing in drive again. He turned on the windshield wipers, which scraped away the snow on the windscreen. The moment they swung down again, more snow rolled onto it. "Not this ... stuff. It's something that forms a fine, dingy film on the roads that's quickly scraped off the next morning. Not this powder of crystallized frozen hell." He pushed down on the gas again, and they left the snowbank, hit an ice patch, and skidded sideways all the way across the parking lot to land in a third drift, the impact of which dumped snow on them in a huge clump from a nearby tree.
Clair couldn't help it. She laughed aloud and hard, closing her eyes and curling forward. "I'm sorry," she said, still laughing. "Snow isn't the best environment for learning how to drive."
"Why are you telling me this NOW!" Octavius demanded, fingers curling upward in claws and his face squeezed.
She laughed even harder, throwing her head back against the headrest. "I'm sorry," she chuckled when she could breath again, wiping her eyes. She looked at him, which almost set her off again. "Do you want to keep trying?"
Octavius stared at her, patience written all over his face in big letters in indelibly black biro. Still staring at her, he twisted the steering wheel and pushed down on the gas, easing the vehicle out of the snow, the tyres slipping occasionally. Eyes front again, he scowled in concentration, pushing his lower lip out slightly, and they made their way slowly along the parking lot to the exit.
"Remember," she said as he approached the on-ramp. "Stay relaxed. The biggest danger in driving is over-correcting for things." The freeway was nearly deserted, and clear of all snow.
"At least we won't run afoul of any more snow," Octavius muttered drily as they merged onto the freeway.
"You'll be okay if I get some sleep?" Clair asked, wadding up a sweater and propping it against the door as a pillow. "Think you've got the hang of it?"
"Mmmfh," he said with a nod. "You sleep for a while," he said, glancing to the side at her, seeing her lie against the sweater, and smiled slightly.
She smiled and closed her eyes, burrowing slightly into the soft fabric to get comfortable, and fell asleep quickly.
His attention stayed on the road for a while, but his eyes kept flicking to her, watching her sleep in split-second intervals. The curve of her neck caught his attention, graceful and slender, her hair brushing against it. He noted with a bizarre pang the bandage over her ear. They hadn't taken the severed piece with them. The bizarre urge to protect her from everything spread from his chest, a warm, soft sensation that brought a small smile to his face. He returned his attention to the road again. She was with him, now. She would be safe.
She woke up when traffic around them picked up, lifting her head and looking around briefly in confusion. "Mmm, how long was I asleep?" she mumbled, scraping her clinging hair back from her face. Outside, it was twilight, the patchy snow glowing blue and red in the last light. They passed a sign saying "Calgary: 22 km."
"Hnn. About four hours," he rumbled quietly.
She sat up and looked out at the city. "How are you doing? Do you want me to drive again?"
"I've gotten used to it," he replied. True, his driving seemed a lot steadier than when he'd started, and he appeared to be a lot more relaxed. He sat back in the driver's seat, hands resting lightly on the wheel, the radio quietly playing some classic rock tune.
"Fast learner," she commented, then sat up straighter as they passed a "Food next right" sign. "Do you want to stop and get something to eat?" Chips and oreos were all well and good, but something of more substance would not be unappreciated.
A smirk. "Of course I am," he said. "And yes, food sounds good." The off-ramp came up and he turned on it, following the small road to a cluster of gas stations and restaurants. "What strikes your fancy?" he asked drily, surveying the fast-food purveyors.
"McDonalds," she choose randomly. They pulled into the parking lot and got out, going into the small restaurant. A cluster of kids and two harassed-looking parents occupied one large booth back by the plastic play set, but otherwise the place was empty of customers.
Octavius gazed about the place, still stretching his legs out and wondering if his spine would decompress. It looked a strangely bleak place, empty of people under fluorescent lights. The latest boy-band tune played quietly over the radio.
Clair ordered a chicken sandwich and an ice tea for herself, then looked at the newspapers stacked on the counter while Otto made his choice. There was, strangely enough, half a copy of the Daily Bugle buried among the copies of the Calgary Herald. She pulled it out, flipped through, and stopped cold. Two pages in was an image of her, probably taken from her driver's licence, next to a shot of Otto smashing a police car over the small headline "Doc Ock kidnaps Seattle Surgeon."
Octavius leaned on the counter, waiting for his order, and looked sidelong at her. He noticed Clair's expression as she looked at the paper, and walked over to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder. "Hnn," he said after a moment, "Not the best picture in the world. I've seen better."
The article was brief and luridly sensational, saying that Ock had "violently mutilated his captive in front of horrified police before fleeing the scene." Keeping her voice down, Clair growled slightly. "I see the Bugle still likes to make up its own version of the facts."
"I don't think they'll ever stop until the happy day that Jameson dies," Octavius remarked drily. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's really nothing to worry about."
She looked over her shoulder at the gawky high school kid manning the counter. "What if someone recognizes us?" She gestured at the bandage over her ear. "The article even mentions this in my description."
"How many people do you think actually read these things and internalize the details to such an extent that they'd recognize you?" he asked, one hand almost unconsciously playing with her hair.
"All it would take is one," she worried. Their food came up and she claimed it from the counter, finding a booth near the back of the McDonalds.
"Yet, statistically, the chances of meeting that one are pretty slim," he said, seating himself opposite her. He picked up a burger, unwrapped it, took a large bite and chewed contemplatively, watching her.
She picked at her chicken sandwich. "I'm suffering a bout of paranoia," she admitted at last, self-deprecatingly. "I'm new to this, remember. I've got this image in my head of your basic movie standoff, surrounded by a sea of cop cars. Also, if they even suspect that we're in Canada, it's going to be a lot harder to get back across the border."
A flicker of a smile. "I've only seen such a situation once... maybe twice." He grew serious. "You may be right, though, it may make re-crossing the border difficult. Right now, you're more recognizable than I am. They haven't any photographs of me as I am now. He took another bite and appeared to think on it.
She took a long sip of her tea. "Our biggest advantage right now is that they have absolutely no idea where we are."
