So in case it isn't obvious, Cedric's bike is a modern/real world stand in for his flying machine. There is usually a good reason I put things in, promise.

The moment's sweet but it's all wrong
And we're pictures of decency when we wave goodbye outside
We're pictures of decency when we wave goodbye outside
Yeah, I'm the model of composure out there
But you oughta see me shaking later on

~ Alpha in Taurus, Mountain Goats


He wasn't paying attention to the road. His mind was a million miles away, in another town, with a girl. The one he was mad at some months ago, when he impulsively up and left for small town hell. The sound of his motorbike as it sped down the old roads was hypnotic, lulling him into believing that it was okay for his thoughts to wander for just a minute, just long enough to see the one sided argument he was having with her in his head through to the end.

He never saw the pot hole coming, but fortunately he managed to maneuver the bike just well enough to keep himself from flying straight off the front end when he hit the obstacle hard. He was alive, and relatively uninjured. It could have been much worse, especially since he hadn't bothered with a helmet. He stood in bewildered silence, staring at his bike as his pulse slowed to something resembling human speed. When the shock wore off, he switched to anger.

He kicked the mangled front tire. "Fuck!" He shouted so loud that the crows in the field beside the road cawed out furious protests as they lifted into the cloudless sky above.

Then, as if he needed another reminder that he had the absolute worst luck of anyone on the planet, she emerged from somewhere behind the tall stalks of wheat, her long curls bouncing behind her as she hurried to his aid. She looked even better in her white tank and cut-offs than she had that day in the coffee shop, and when she breezed past him, he could smell the metallic earthy scent that came from hours spent outdoors under the early summer sun.

"Oh, no!" She cried out, bending to examine the damage, dropping the beat-up frisbee she'd been carrying onto the road so she could try to right the machine. "Are you alright?" She glanced up, her eyes sweeping over him in genuine concern, and he resisted the urge to unleash a fresh torrent of curses, not at her, obviously, but at the absurdity of it all.

"I'm fine." He bit curtly. Except my bike is wrecked, and I hate this town, and if there was a god, you'd be about ten years older.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket, thankful that at least the rugged case had done it's job in protecting the fragile electronic held within. Flicking the screen on, he noted with ever growing annoyance that there was no signal. He trudged up and down the stretch of torn up pavement, held it higher, lower... Nothing made a difference.

"Those don't work out here." She bubbled, catching up to him easily.

"You don't say..." He groused, though the sight of the wide grin she gifted him with calmed him for reasons he couldn't really explain, or maybe he just wasn't comfortable with trying to.

"The nearest tower is all the way back in town." She explained. Her hand gripped his, and he followed reluctantly as she dragged him back to the bike. "I'll give you a hand."

"So, Princess..." He began, stopping to grunt as they righted the motorbike. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

"That's my house over there." He turned his attention to the direction she indicated, finding the blue farm house in the distance. The only house in sight as far as he could see in any direction.

"Right. Why wouldn't it be?" He muttered, ignoring the 'hm?' she let out when she didn't quite hear him. "You can let go, now. I've got it."

"We have a phone you can use, if you need." She offered, stuffing her hands into her pockets as she shifted from one foot to another.

"You have a landline?" He almost laughed, not just at the bitter irony of this particular girl being here and offering exactly what he needed, but also because he didn't know a single person who actually had a home phone these days.

"My dad's work phone. It's in the garage." She shrugged, retrieving the frisbee as he struggled to move the bike to the side of the road by himself. "He uses it when he's working at home."

"Yeah? What's he do?" Cedric questioned distractedly, only half listening. She cocked her head, the amusement on her adorable features making him wonder if he'd missed something.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." She laughed at a joke he wasn't in on. "You'll see when we get there. Sure you don't need help?"

"Sofia!" The cry proceeded the boy who parted the wheat to join them.

He was blonde, tan, and shirtless, with dark denim shorts that hung past his knees. An all American boy. Cedric hoped his eye-roll wasn't too obvious as this kid came up behind the redhead and wrapped his arms around her waist, raising her into the air and spinning around, which elicited a surprised squeal from her.

"I win!" The kid declared victoriously, setting her back down on her bare feet.

"I'm not playing, James." She gestured to Cedric, who stood as awkward witness to the scene. "This is Cedric, the guy I told you about. He crashed his bike."

"My bad." The boy nodded towards him, and he returned the gesture. "I can give you a hand if you want. My dad's taught me plenty about repairs."

Great, so the princess had a boyfriend. One that was annoyingly helpful and good looking. Not that he should care, he tried to remind himself as he discreetly sized the teenager up.

"I'm good. I'll just use the phone, then be on my way." James shrugged, taking the frisbee from Sofia's hand.

"Kay, I'm gonna head back out, then." Sofia waved as he disappeared, then turned her energy back to the stranded musician.

"Really, it'll go a lot faster if I help." She persisted, and he finally let out a sigh of defeat.

"Yeah, fine." Together they towed the bike to the side of the road so it would be out of the way on the off chance that anyone else should drive by, though Cedric severely doubted that would happen.

"Your boyfriend seems... nice." Cedric stated, trying to keep the misplaced disappointment from his tone, as they hiked toward the house.

"Boyfriend?" She stopped in her tracks, blinking up at him in confusion. "You don't mean James?" He was not relieved by her reaction. He had no business whatsoever caring whether she was or wasn't dating the boy from earlier.

"I just assumed-" Sofia shook her head, her pert nose wrinkling in distaste.

"James is my brother." She explained, stifling a giggle at whatever expression he was making. They spent the rest of the walk in silence.

"Dad!" She cried out, scrambling up the walk and racing over the concrete steps. The screen door slammed shut behind her, and Cedric checked the pockets of his rough jeans for his pack of Lucky Strikes, shaking one out and turning away from the house to block the wind as he lit it.

"Sofia tells me you could use a hand." He spun back in time to see what he assumed was the girl's father leaning over the porch railing to speak to him.

"I hit a pot hole on my bike. I'm kind of stranded until I get it fixed." He rehashed the ordeal as plainly and quickly as possible. The older man nodded slowly, pondering this.

"I should be able to fix it for you." He came down the steps, holding his hand out to Cedric, who shook it politely. "Tell you what, I'll even do it on the house. Just this once."

"I appreciate it." It was the truth. He had no idea how he would get back on the road without the assistance, and he was due at band practice later in the afternoon.

They returned to the motorbike, and her dad whistled as he looked it over. "Wow, that's a beauty!" For the first time since his accident, Cedric smiled.

"She's custom." He bragged as the older man bent to check the damage.

"Sure is. Must have cost you a fortune." He held out his hand, and Cedric accepted.

"Not really, I did most of the work myself." He answered proudly. It was a labour of love, but the bike had returned the favor by taking him hundreds of miles away from his troubles, even if he did somehow manage to find new ones wherever he went.

"Did you, now?" He seemed too refined to be one of the locals, Cedric noticed as they lugged the bike back together. He chuckled as the garage door opened, finally understanding what was so funny earlier.

"A repair shop?" Cedric breathed in disbelief, admiring the expensive equipment.

"King's Auto Repair. This is just the hobby stuff, actually." He rested the bike against the garage wall. "My real shop's in town."

Cedric checked out some of the equipment while he waited for a professional opinion. He'd give his right arm to be able to afford the tech this man had just written off so easily.

"I've been calling about getting that hole fixed for over a year." He griped, flashing an apologetic smile at Cedric. "This is going to take me maybe... An hour. Why don't you go inside, help yourself to a beer."

Because your daughter's in there. As much as he didn't want to see her again, perhaps ever, the offer tempted him. It was hot out, he was having a bad day, and a cold beer sounded like exactly how he wanted to wait out the tire repair.

"Sure, thanks." When he reached the front door, he could hear her inside, singing one of old his songs.

You scare me shitless

Eye to eye, we need no words at all

You leave me breathless

But you're too good for me, too good for me

He stood frozen on the porch, listening through the mesh of the screen door to the sound of her soft soprano, coupled with notes from an out of tune guitar. She hit the wrong chord, and he swung the light door open.

"It's an E2." He pointed out, meandering his way behind where she sat perched on the coffee table. She jerked in surprise, and when she peeked over at him her face was practically glowing red.

"What is?" He motioned for the guitar and she pulled the wide band over her head and handed it to him.

"Like this..." He played the chorus again, though her intense staring made it difficult to concentrate. "See, this is where you were supposed to play an E2."

He handed the instrument back to her, but cringed when she again played it wrong.

"No, no, you have to hold your pinky on the bottom string there." Sliding onto the table beside her, he reached out and positioned her fingers properly. "There, now try."

Those sparkling, damning turquoise eyes met his as her face tilted upwards toward him, the girl hanging on his every word. He wanted to lean in, to claim her plump, peachy lips as his. She drew him in like a magnet, this girl. Thankfully, the moment ended before he could do anything entirely stupid. She tucked her chin to focus on the guitar, strumming the chord correctly, and he made it a point to stand up.

"Your dad offered me a beer." He excused his presence in the house, feeling it necessary to change the subject.

"Oh, I'll get it for you." Before he could tell her not to, and ask directions to the kitchen, she set down the guitar and hurried out of the room.

You scare me shitless. Never had those words felt truer, even when he had first scribbled them down on a half torn-out page of his beaten up pocket spiral notebook, back when he was probably just a little older than her.