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Entry tags:
fic: Driving Lessons
Title: Driving Lessons
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Young!Scout, Spy, Engineer
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2,662
Author's note: Part of Loving Ghosts.
For Sarah.
1960.
The last bit of daylight shone through the thick, dark curtains, a long golden splash of light over the bed. He buttoned up his shirt. She still lay in the bed, slightly disheveled in such a beautiful way. He had mere moments to give her, yet she deserved so much more.
She lifted a cigarette to her lips. The ruby red of her lipstick had smudged, slightly over her chin. She'd left her mark over his collar, his face. He would wait until the very last moment to wipe her lipstick away. He'd let the scent of her perfume linger long, until he was on a red-eye flight across the country.
"Good to see you...I wasn't expectin' a surprise visit. Then again, you're always unexpected."
If life had treated them differently, the surprises would be a bouquet of roses brought home daily, and a kiss every morning. Then again, if things had been different, he never would've met her.
In that rainy night, had he come any later, she would've been a copse left in the alley. Had she not kissed him, had he not walked her home, they could've gone their separate ways.
(And she might've been happier, he thought.)
"Anyways, I gotta be up early. Liam's got driving lessons."
He glanced back.
His first thought was already? It seemed as if just yesterday he was singing Liam French lullabies. He had grown up so very fast, and with Spy only at the edges. The guardian he had never known, except for that short period where he could be the French ghost who taught him time tables.
"You're sending him to driving lessons?"
"Yeah, just in case he wants to join the Teamsters Union like many of his brothers," she said. "Of course, he's all over the place about it. I think he's secretly a little afraid of drivin', but too proud to admit it."
"Hmm."
She leaned up on one elbow. The way the sheets fell made him question his dedication to catching his flight. It would be so easy to craft an excuse. Of course, the Voice would find out. She always did.
"You got somethin' up your sleeve, darlin'?"
"Always, ma amour."
And as always, he did not elaborate and left it to mystery.
*
He crafted excuses as well as alibis, all for a way to stay in Boston just a little longer.
He'd found the suit in a thrift shop far outside of Beacon Hill. It was brown corduroy, and just rumpled and moth-eaten enough to give the impression of a teacher who had, perhaps, fallen on hard times.
He studied himself in the mirror as he applied the mask. Should he grow out his stubble, that Colleen loved to run her hand over, the one concession past his mask, or leave it?
He left it. Even if it might add to the illusion he wished to portray, he couldn't bring himself to disappoint Colleen. He'd already disappointed her enough in his life.
He lifted up a pair of large glasses and placed them on his nose. They were thick, enough to obscure and make him look like a new man. However, the prescription was nonexistent enough to not bother his vision.
He practiced the accent another time. Not quite as harsh as the South Boston, more like someone from the cape. A rumbled professor, who likely came from a rich family.
Liam would hate him, he thought idly.
Good, he thought. All the better the disguise.
(And Liam would probably hate him if he knew him as more than the French Ghost, like a child's tale of Santa Claus, he thought. He would deserve it, too.)
*
"Liam Dempsey?"
His son turned around with a big, buck-toothed grin. And all Spy could think was my, how he's grown. Even in the months since he'd returned, Liam had grown up several more inches. And he was thin, wiry with gray eyes the same shade as his own. The glasses were a good idea, he thought. It gave him something to do with his hands, to needlessly clean the lenses again, and gave him an excuse to look away.
Outside of the occasional cigarette that left smoke outside the car window. He sat back in this station wagon, with the proper marking. A bright orange student driver sign ready to place on it, like a warning.
For a failure of a father, it all came to him quite fast. Why would they make these dash boards so hard? He could just see Liam's face hurtling forward, his teeth bloody and broken in a crash.
Was fatherhood simply seeing his son die over and over, like an oracle?
"Hey, when are we goin' to go drivin'? Ma said I'd probably have to fill out some paperwork? I don't know about that crap, but whatever it takes to get my permit."
"It's already taken care of," he said.
Spy had forged Liam's handwriting earlier to do it. Knowing him, he'd fidget and take twice as long and then not finish. The boy just couldn't focus. He could already sense potential failure--and even more, he saw a chance to have at least a moment of time with his son.
Even borrowed time, under a false name. At least it was something.
Liam climbed in eagerly, and made vroom vroom noises as he put his hands on the steering wheel.
"Maybe I'll be one of those big drivers."
"A Teamster?"
"Nah, like a race car driver. They're rich, and the ladies love 'em, right? Plus, they go real fast. It sounds fun. Though I bet ma would be afraid I would crash."
Spy couldn't help but smile. He was always full of such imagination. One day he was going to be a pro boxer, the next a movie star, the next a pro baseball player.
"Keep your foot on the brake."
"But, I thought I was supposed to be startin'.'
"You're shifting to reverse," he said. "Put it to the R."
Liam glanced down as he tried to find the glowing R among the shift.
"Hey, I got it. I'm real good at this."
"That remains to be seen, as you haven't even gotten on the road yet," he said.
The car lurched back.
"Brake again. Now, you need to put it to the D. Right there."
Liam looked down.
"Eyes on the road," Spy said.
"How am I supposed to shift without lookin'?"
"You'll learn. Soon, it will be second nature."
Liam let out a huffy breath and gripped the steering wheel. "I'll show you," he muttered.
Except, he must've put his foot on the gas, not the brake. They went hurtling towards that brick wall. His hand instantly went out to keep Liam from slamming into the hard dashboard. His neck ached, but the vision of Liam bleeding had been averted, for now.
Spy let out a sigh.
"Congratulations, you certainly broke a record, as well as the car itself."
"I-I I can't pay for that." He choked back tears. He was so young, only a teenager.
"It has insurance," he said. "All for troublesome children like you. Are you hurt?" he said.
"Nothin' hurt but my pride," Liam muttered.
"Ah, and what a wound for you," Spy said softly.
Liam crossed his arms petulantly over his chest.
*
He knew that a request like this would likely mean some kind of payment back. And for all his southern charm, Engineer was a sly and crafty man who would love to shank him in the back for every single snide comment he'd ever made.
Or, more likely, slam him over the head with a wrench.
Even bringing him out here, at such short notice, would cost him. Engineer leaned over the smoking car, with its smashed up front end.
"Hoo-boy."
Engineer wiped away the sweat from his face. "You did a number on it."
"Not me. A student."
"Pauling did that? Did somethin' get under the brake? She usually does so well."
"Not her," Spy said. "Moreover, can you fix it?"
"Not quick enough to matter. Not sure it'd even be worth fixin'. And of course, it'd be at a price."
Engineer gave him a sidelong glance. His goggles were over his bald head, so for once, he could see the sharpness in his gray eyes. Of course he would like nothing more than to take his revenge out of Spy's wallet.
So be it, he would have to take care of it himself.
He'd had to bury a number of bodies, hide evidence, though this was the first time he had to destroy a student driver training vehicle.
"Fine then, time for plan B."
Once Engineer had returned (he had his own means of travel--likely a teleporter, or some kind of advanced plane he had hidden away for private use) Spy set about to the clean up.
He drove the remains of the car out at midnight, when the streets were largely empty. The lights shone from the doc.
He opened the door, as he drove into the water. Drops seeped through the cracked windshield. The car hurtled down into the depths. Air bubbles rose up towards the surface. He'd had a great many deaths, all of them painful, but he'd never drowned.
The worst part was that it extinguished his cigarette.
The water was dark, but it'd been quite some time since he'd been afraid of death. Drowning would be almost peaceful compared to the many times he'd been burnt, impaled, shot in the gut as his own gastric juices and burned his core.
But, dying would be troublesome nnow. He swam up through the dark as the carcass of the car fell to the depths.
All for you, Liam, he thought. And, as always, all for you, Colleen.
*
Liam returned the next day. He wasn't even shamefaced at his action, though little surprise. The boy was a smug little spitfire. Where he'd gotten all this energy, Spy didn't know.
It must've come from her side of the family.
Liam put his hands in the pockets of his ripped up jeans. His faded shirt had some kind of baseball logo, the Boston Red Sox, that he loved so much. Spy had gotten it for him, a couple birthdays ago, several sizes too large, so he could grow into it.
"So, the car really is gone, huh?"
"With the insurance company," he said.
"Phew, I really thought I was a goner. No way I could pay for somethin' like that. At least, not yet. Because one of these days, I am gonna be super rich."
"So you say," Spy said.
"Hey, mister, you got any kids?"
"One," he said. "A son."
"My dad died in the war. I wonder if he would be teaching me if things were different."
"Perhaps. Remember the brake this time."
Liam clutched the steering wheel tight.
"Are you afraid?"
"What? No! I ain't afraid of nothin'! Well, nothin' but ma dyin', but everyone is afraid of that."
He nodded.
"Remember the brake, Liam."
This time, he didn't go hurtling into the wall. Instead, he slowly, slowly began to move the car.
Liam's eyes shone with happiness. "I'm doin' it! I'm doin' it! I'm drivin'!" He let out a laugh. "I knew it was a fluke! Must've been somethin' wrong with that car!"
"Hey, mister. My ma thinks I might go to the Teamsters. That's why she didn't want me to wait. But, I don't know. I wanna win the Olympics. I wanna be a boxer--a movie star, a real superhero! Not sure if I got time to be a Teamster too, and those would make ma happy, right?
He had so much energy and so many dreams. Spy couldn't help but smile.
"At once?"
"Uh-huh, I can do it. I know I can."
"I'm sure you can, Liam."
His name felt so strange on his tongue. Usually it was only said inside, a prayer said only by habit. Many who managed to survive World War II lost any belief in god. He was no different.
But, certain things stayed. The comforting feel of beads between his fingers as he repeated the words over and over, like a prayer.
*
Would Liam manage to pass the test? He would have to ask Colleen later what happened, for he couldn't stay away from work forever.
Except, somehow, he ended up the same role once again.
It wasn't the fact that they particularly cared about the law; the Administrator had been making Pauling help in murdering people since she was a child. But, she was such a tiny thing, she couldn't even reach the pedals until recently. The license probably wouldn't even be in her own name.
Then again, Spy had no clue if "Pauling" was even the name given to her, or one of many aliases.
She held tight to the steering wheel.
"Thanks for helping me. Engineer was busy today." She reached up and pushed the stick until it was at D.
"All right, I put it in drive."
"Brake first, unless you want to slam into the wall like the person I was just teaching."
"Was that... your son?"
Spy was silent a moment, but he finally nodded. It wasn't as if he could hide again the existance of his family. At least, not without certain means and machines, none of which he ever wanted her to experience.
"Was he good at driving?"
"He crashed the car before he even left the lot. It was so bad, I had to hide the evidence."
She covered her mouth, unable to keep back the laughter.
"Keep your foot on the brake or you'll do the same."
"I'm sorry, that's just so--"
"Indeed, only Liam could manage such a feat."
"Only Liam..." She echoed, and smiled softly, full of nostalgia. A nostalgia she didn't technically have.
She was a much better driver than Liam. And she smiled more at the sound of his son's name. That thought remained at the back of his mind. She wasn't his ally, she was just a girl. She had murdered many, she had little happiness.
And somehow, she'd found just a teensy fragment of happiness in knowing that Liam existed.
He'd thought that surely, she would bore of the pictures eventually, as children do. Like a picturebook, she would set them aside. But if anything, she seemed more attached now. She spoke of Liam as if he were an old friend, though he was fairly sure she had never even met him.
And both of them went on pretending as if she wasn't outside the window of his family, looking in as if they were her own little friends.
A little lost girl, with nothing to claim her own. No mother, no father, very little warmth. He gave what little mercy he could to her, but too much and he might one day find a weakness.
Or one day have it used against him.
She was just a teenager. Tiny and deadly in her own way, but still--his family was across the country. She rarely left the base. Perhaps for now, she wasn't a threat.
(Even the thought of her being a threat made him ache inside, much like the gaping hole that he felt as he left the airport from Boston each time.)
Slowly, she drove out of the garage and onto the empty highway. A heat mirage shone in the distance, and red stone ridges surrounded them.
"There you go; you're a natural," Spy said.
"Engineer's been teaching me a little, but I'm glad you helped too," she said. She smiled then, no malice or blood on her cheek. In that moment, she almost looked like a normal teenager girl. And in that moment, he almost forgot that she was a killer.
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Young!Scout, Spy, Engineer
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 2,662
Author's note: Part of Loving Ghosts.
For Sarah.
1960.
The last bit of daylight shone through the thick, dark curtains, a long golden splash of light over the bed. He buttoned up his shirt. She still lay in the bed, slightly disheveled in such a beautiful way. He had mere moments to give her, yet she deserved so much more.
She lifted a cigarette to her lips. The ruby red of her lipstick had smudged, slightly over her chin. She'd left her mark over his collar, his face. He would wait until the very last moment to wipe her lipstick away. He'd let the scent of her perfume linger long, until he was on a red-eye flight across the country.
"Good to see you...I wasn't expectin' a surprise visit. Then again, you're always unexpected."
If life had treated them differently, the surprises would be a bouquet of roses brought home daily, and a kiss every morning. Then again, if things had been different, he never would've met her.
In that rainy night, had he come any later, she would've been a copse left in the alley. Had she not kissed him, had he not walked her home, they could've gone their separate ways.
(And she might've been happier, he thought.)
"Anyways, I gotta be up early. Liam's got driving lessons."
He glanced back.
His first thought was already? It seemed as if just yesterday he was singing Liam French lullabies. He had grown up so very fast, and with Spy only at the edges. The guardian he had never known, except for that short period where he could be the French ghost who taught him time tables.
"You're sending him to driving lessons?"
"Yeah, just in case he wants to join the Teamsters Union like many of his brothers," she said. "Of course, he's all over the place about it. I think he's secretly a little afraid of drivin', but too proud to admit it."
"Hmm."
She leaned up on one elbow. The way the sheets fell made him question his dedication to catching his flight. It would be so easy to craft an excuse. Of course, the Voice would find out. She always did.
"You got somethin' up your sleeve, darlin'?"
"Always, ma amour."
And as always, he did not elaborate and left it to mystery.
*
He crafted excuses as well as alibis, all for a way to stay in Boston just a little longer.
He'd found the suit in a thrift shop far outside of Beacon Hill. It was brown corduroy, and just rumpled and moth-eaten enough to give the impression of a teacher who had, perhaps, fallen on hard times.
He studied himself in the mirror as he applied the mask. Should he grow out his stubble, that Colleen loved to run her hand over, the one concession past his mask, or leave it?
He left it. Even if it might add to the illusion he wished to portray, he couldn't bring himself to disappoint Colleen. He'd already disappointed her enough in his life.
He lifted up a pair of large glasses and placed them on his nose. They were thick, enough to obscure and make him look like a new man. However, the prescription was nonexistent enough to not bother his vision.
He practiced the accent another time. Not quite as harsh as the South Boston, more like someone from the cape. A rumbled professor, who likely came from a rich family.
Liam would hate him, he thought idly.
Good, he thought. All the better the disguise.
(And Liam would probably hate him if he knew him as more than the French Ghost, like a child's tale of Santa Claus, he thought. He would deserve it, too.)
*
"Liam Dempsey?"
His son turned around with a big, buck-toothed grin. And all Spy could think was my, how he's grown. Even in the months since he'd returned, Liam had grown up several more inches. And he was thin, wiry with gray eyes the same shade as his own. The glasses were a good idea, he thought. It gave him something to do with his hands, to needlessly clean the lenses again, and gave him an excuse to look away.
Outside of the occasional cigarette that left smoke outside the car window. He sat back in this station wagon, with the proper marking. A bright orange student driver sign ready to place on it, like a warning.
For a failure of a father, it all came to him quite fast. Why would they make these dash boards so hard? He could just see Liam's face hurtling forward, his teeth bloody and broken in a crash.
Was fatherhood simply seeing his son die over and over, like an oracle?
"Hey, when are we goin' to go drivin'? Ma said I'd probably have to fill out some paperwork? I don't know about that crap, but whatever it takes to get my permit."
"It's already taken care of," he said.
Spy had forged Liam's handwriting earlier to do it. Knowing him, he'd fidget and take twice as long and then not finish. The boy just couldn't focus. He could already sense potential failure--and even more, he saw a chance to have at least a moment of time with his son.
Even borrowed time, under a false name. At least it was something.
Liam climbed in eagerly, and made vroom vroom noises as he put his hands on the steering wheel.
"Maybe I'll be one of those big drivers."
"A Teamster?"
"Nah, like a race car driver. They're rich, and the ladies love 'em, right? Plus, they go real fast. It sounds fun. Though I bet ma would be afraid I would crash."
Spy couldn't help but smile. He was always full of such imagination. One day he was going to be a pro boxer, the next a movie star, the next a pro baseball player.
"Keep your foot on the brake."
"But, I thought I was supposed to be startin'.'
"You're shifting to reverse," he said. "Put it to the R."
Liam glanced down as he tried to find the glowing R among the shift.
"Hey, I got it. I'm real good at this."
"That remains to be seen, as you haven't even gotten on the road yet," he said.
The car lurched back.
"Brake again. Now, you need to put it to the D. Right there."
Liam looked down.
"Eyes on the road," Spy said.
"How am I supposed to shift without lookin'?"
"You'll learn. Soon, it will be second nature."
Liam let out a huffy breath and gripped the steering wheel. "I'll show you," he muttered.
Except, he must've put his foot on the gas, not the brake. They went hurtling towards that brick wall. His hand instantly went out to keep Liam from slamming into the hard dashboard. His neck ached, but the vision of Liam bleeding had been averted, for now.
Spy let out a sigh.
"Congratulations, you certainly broke a record, as well as the car itself."
"I-I I can't pay for that." He choked back tears. He was so young, only a teenager.
"It has insurance," he said. "All for troublesome children like you. Are you hurt?" he said.
"Nothin' hurt but my pride," Liam muttered.
"Ah, and what a wound for you," Spy said softly.
Liam crossed his arms petulantly over his chest.
*
He knew that a request like this would likely mean some kind of payment back. And for all his southern charm, Engineer was a sly and crafty man who would love to shank him in the back for every single snide comment he'd ever made.
Or, more likely, slam him over the head with a wrench.
Even bringing him out here, at such short notice, would cost him. Engineer leaned over the smoking car, with its smashed up front end.
"Hoo-boy."
Engineer wiped away the sweat from his face. "You did a number on it."
"Not me. A student."
"Pauling did that? Did somethin' get under the brake? She usually does so well."
"Not her," Spy said. "Moreover, can you fix it?"
"Not quick enough to matter. Not sure it'd even be worth fixin'. And of course, it'd be at a price."
Engineer gave him a sidelong glance. His goggles were over his bald head, so for once, he could see the sharpness in his gray eyes. Of course he would like nothing more than to take his revenge out of Spy's wallet.
So be it, he would have to take care of it himself.
He'd had to bury a number of bodies, hide evidence, though this was the first time he had to destroy a student driver training vehicle.
"Fine then, time for plan B."
Once Engineer had returned (he had his own means of travel--likely a teleporter, or some kind of advanced plane he had hidden away for private use) Spy set about to the clean up.
He drove the remains of the car out at midnight, when the streets were largely empty. The lights shone from the doc.
He opened the door, as he drove into the water. Drops seeped through the cracked windshield. The car hurtled down into the depths. Air bubbles rose up towards the surface. He'd had a great many deaths, all of them painful, but he'd never drowned.
The worst part was that it extinguished his cigarette.
The water was dark, but it'd been quite some time since he'd been afraid of death. Drowning would be almost peaceful compared to the many times he'd been burnt, impaled, shot in the gut as his own gastric juices and burned his core.
But, dying would be troublesome nnow. He swam up through the dark as the carcass of the car fell to the depths.
All for you, Liam, he thought. And, as always, all for you, Colleen.
*
Liam returned the next day. He wasn't even shamefaced at his action, though little surprise. The boy was a smug little spitfire. Where he'd gotten all this energy, Spy didn't know.
It must've come from her side of the family.
Liam put his hands in the pockets of his ripped up jeans. His faded shirt had some kind of baseball logo, the Boston Red Sox, that he loved so much. Spy had gotten it for him, a couple birthdays ago, several sizes too large, so he could grow into it.
"So, the car really is gone, huh?"
"With the insurance company," he said.
"Phew, I really thought I was a goner. No way I could pay for somethin' like that. At least, not yet. Because one of these days, I am gonna be super rich."
"So you say," Spy said.
"Hey, mister, you got any kids?"
"One," he said. "A son."
"My dad died in the war. I wonder if he would be teaching me if things were different."
"Perhaps. Remember the brake this time."
Liam clutched the steering wheel tight.
"Are you afraid?"
"What? No! I ain't afraid of nothin'! Well, nothin' but ma dyin', but everyone is afraid of that."
He nodded.
"Remember the brake, Liam."
This time, he didn't go hurtling into the wall. Instead, he slowly, slowly began to move the car.
Liam's eyes shone with happiness. "I'm doin' it! I'm doin' it! I'm drivin'!" He let out a laugh. "I knew it was a fluke! Must've been somethin' wrong with that car!"
"Hey, mister. My ma thinks I might go to the Teamsters. That's why she didn't want me to wait. But, I don't know. I wanna win the Olympics. I wanna be a boxer--a movie star, a real superhero! Not sure if I got time to be a Teamster too, and those would make ma happy, right?
He had so much energy and so many dreams. Spy couldn't help but smile.
"At once?"
"Uh-huh, I can do it. I know I can."
"I'm sure you can, Liam."
His name felt so strange on his tongue. Usually it was only said inside, a prayer said only by habit. Many who managed to survive World War II lost any belief in god. He was no different.
But, certain things stayed. The comforting feel of beads between his fingers as he repeated the words over and over, like a prayer.
*
Would Liam manage to pass the test? He would have to ask Colleen later what happened, for he couldn't stay away from work forever.
Except, somehow, he ended up the same role once again.
It wasn't the fact that they particularly cared about the law; the Administrator had been making Pauling help in murdering people since she was a child. But, she was such a tiny thing, she couldn't even reach the pedals until recently. The license probably wouldn't even be in her own name.
Then again, Spy had no clue if "Pauling" was even the name given to her, or one of many aliases.
She held tight to the steering wheel.
"Thanks for helping me. Engineer was busy today." She reached up and pushed the stick until it was at D.
"All right, I put it in drive."
"Brake first, unless you want to slam into the wall like the person I was just teaching."
"Was that... your son?"
Spy was silent a moment, but he finally nodded. It wasn't as if he could hide again the existance of his family. At least, not without certain means and machines, none of which he ever wanted her to experience.
"Was he good at driving?"
"He crashed the car before he even left the lot. It was so bad, I had to hide the evidence."
She covered her mouth, unable to keep back the laughter.
"Keep your foot on the brake or you'll do the same."
"I'm sorry, that's just so--"
"Indeed, only Liam could manage such a feat."
"Only Liam..." She echoed, and smiled softly, full of nostalgia. A nostalgia she didn't technically have.
She was a much better driver than Liam. And she smiled more at the sound of his son's name. That thought remained at the back of his mind. She wasn't his ally, she was just a girl. She had murdered many, she had little happiness.
And somehow, she'd found just a teensy fragment of happiness in knowing that Liam existed.
He'd thought that surely, she would bore of the pictures eventually, as children do. Like a picturebook, she would set them aside. But if anything, she seemed more attached now. She spoke of Liam as if he were an old friend, though he was fairly sure she had never even met him.
And both of them went on pretending as if she wasn't outside the window of his family, looking in as if they were her own little friends.
A little lost girl, with nothing to claim her own. No mother, no father, very little warmth. He gave what little mercy he could to her, but too much and he might one day find a weakness.
Or one day have it used against him.
She was just a teenager. Tiny and deadly in her own way, but still--his family was across the country. She rarely left the base. Perhaps for now, she wasn't a threat.
(Even the thought of her being a threat made him ache inside, much like the gaping hole that he felt as he left the airport from Boston each time.)
Slowly, she drove out of the garage and onto the empty highway. A heat mirage shone in the distance, and red stone ridges surrounded them.
"There you go; you're a natural," Spy said.
"Engineer's been teaching me a little, but I'm glad you helped too," she said. She smiled then, no malice or blood on her cheek. In that moment, she almost looked like a normal teenager girl. And in that moment, he almost forgot that she was a killer.