So, here we are
That's pretty far
When you think of where we've been
No going back
I'm fading out
All that has faded me within
You're by my side
Now everything's fine
I can't believe

You found me
When no one else was lookin'
How did you know just where I would be?
Yeah, you broke through
All of my confusion
The ups and the downs
And you still didn't leave
I guess that you saw what nobody could see
You found me
You found me

And I was hiding
'Til you came along
And showed me where I belong
You found me
You found me
When no one else was lookin'
How did you know?
How did you know?

-Kelly Clarkson; You Found Me

The slight rumble of the pavement was absorbed into the treads of the Mystery Machine, shaking the main frame slightly as it took occasional dips into a pothole in the cement.

The tooth-rattlers annoyed Fred a great deal as he kept his eyes on the deserted road. He had managed to avert the van away from most of the potholes, but cursed to himself when a tire would catch one that his eyes had missed. It wasn't a total loss for the blonde man; the Mystery Machine was a sturdy vehicle; it would recover from the sharp dips with a slight tremble and a whirr of the engine.

Fred's blue eyes scanned the roadways as he came to a stop sign. To the left, no cars. To the right, no cars. Fred wondered why he even bothered to put on the turn signal if there was nobody behind him. He yawned widely and looked at the digital clock on the dashboard – no wonder the roads were deserted – it was only 7 am. Even though Fred realized this, he still felt half of his body asleep in bed. With a nudge of the gas pedal, the van turned the corner.

A soft amount of pressure on the brake signaled the Mystery Machine to slow down as it turned onto a narrow street. All the lights in the houses were still off, only a handful of people outside, most of which were either driving to work or searching for the daily paper wearing a robe and bunny slippers. The van was signaled to slow even more and finally halt outside of familiar house.

Fred's brows arched a little as he exhaled a deep breath through his nose. Why wasn't Daphne outside waiting for him? Her record of punctuality was scarred this morning, for she had never been late for her ride to the studio. For a moment he fixated his gaze on the two-story lavender home, and then it shifted to the two cars in the driveway. One of them was Daphne's emerald green Mustang (which she rarely drove due to soaring gas prices), but the golden Ford Taurus at his side he didn't register right away.

His mind temporarily searched its memory bank and images of the previous night's events played through his mind. He merely blinked when he realized that the unfamiliar vehicle belonged to Mike. The blonde man racked his brain, fighting the urge to storm into the house and give the gardener a piece of his mind, but his level-headedness came into play at that moment, settling his thoughts into an uneasy silence. Instead, Fred just honked the horn.

The distant cries of the horn invaded Daphne's dreams. She grunted and forced her eyes open as she lifted her head from Mike's chest. The fading of her body heat disturbed her companion, and in seconds he too was struggling to wake up.

"Mike? What time is it?" Daphne asked.

Mike drowsily looked at his wristwatch, and he sat bolt upright. "Bloody hell! It's 7:15!"

"Damn it!" Daphne exclaimed upon hearing the Mystery Machine's honking outside, "We're going to be late!"

In a flash, Daphne retreated to the restroom and applied fresh eye liner, brushing her long lashes with a light coat of mascara. She pulled a brush to even out her rumpled hair, and changed into a clean change of clothes. Mike found it surprising that she had done this in less than two minutes. Outside, Fred was still honking the horn. Snatching her purse and keys, Daphne declared, "I'll meet you at the studio!"

Fred watched as Daphne ushered Mike out the door. Without a second thought, the Irishman ran to his car and ducked inside. The engine of the Taurus roared to life, while at the same time, Daphne locked the front door and ran to the side of the Mystery Machine. As she practically leapt into the passenger seat and buckled in, the redhead caught out of the corner of her eye, the scowl on Fred's face.

"Fred," Daphne sighed, a soft crack in her voice. She cleared her throat to awaken her vocal cords. She felt a twinge of uneasiness in the air as Fred started to drive.

"Daphne, I saw how you two were behaving out there." Disgust smothered his tone.

"We were late! We fell asleep on the couch and you woke us up, thank God!"

"Oh, really!" Fred mocked.

Daphne scoffed, gritting her teeth. "Stop being so goddamn overprotective!"

"Daphne, he could be dangerous!"

"Well, I've been in plenty of danger, haven't I?"

Fred paused. "But, there's always been someone to pull you back." The last statement was slightly stammered.

"There've been times where nobody was there. I may not be perfect, but I'm capable of handling myself. If I need your help, I'll ask first, and if I get myself in trouble, then I'll get myself out."

"You won't know you're getting into trouble, Daphne – for all we know, Mike could be some type of serial rapist."

"Fred, you're getting ahead of yourself."

"No, Daphne – you're just not thinking straight! This guy could be dangerous."

"Fred, please," Daphne sighed, slumping her shoulders, "Not now. Just…let's leave this for after work."

"Fine," Fred growled, continuing to drive.

"Fine," came a more muted response, as Daphne turned her eyes from the driver's side and looked out the window. She slumped into the seat and her form went still.

Fred wanted to say more to her, but could tell from her body language that she was in no mood for speaking to him. Had he attempted to speak, he was afraid that she might have gone postal on him. He wanted to tell her that she was being foolish, even stupid, but Fred only shook his head. They continued the drive to the studio in a tense silence.