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starsficOkay, 279 km in a few hours on the interstate, but they were offroading, and also, they packed sleeping bags! It was definitely nighttime when they had their "this isn't a democracy" conference in the tunnel. And they didn't lose contact with Dr. K until... well, about that time, actually. Oh well ♥ Maybe it was their second night.
For previous entries tagged "steering you home,"
click and scroll down (reverse chronology).
what you know
He knew he'd screwed up. And he'd meant to apologize, he really had, except that at first he hadn't realized how bad it was and by the time he got it they were in a van 200 kilometers away and she still wasn't speaking to him. She was speaking to Dillon, though--which he guessed was fair--and that's how he figured it out.
Ziggy hadn't thought it was that big a deal. So he'd slipped up and used her real name. Once. One time, so what? Well, maybe a couple of times, but all at once, anyway. Dillon had said it right in front of him; was he supposed to pretend not to hear?
Okay, not said it, exactly.
She liked french fries. He liked mini golf. They'd managed to combine activities in a way that involved Dillon calling advice to him from the bench at the front of the windmill course: Ziggy was squinting down the green, and Dillon was playing with her lunch. Ziggy didn't know how much until he finally sunk the ball on his fifteenth stroke.
Walking back to them, he found the name "Kaia" spelled out in little french fry pieces across her tray. Dillon was idly fashioning an arrow out of the remaining fries. She bumped the tray as soon as he sat down, scattering the letters out of existence, and the way Dillon raised his eyebrow told Ziggy that he hadn't expected that either.
"Kaia, huh?" Ziggy blurted out. "That's pretty. Is that what the 'K' stands for? I like it; you should use it."
"No," she said shortly. "Also, you are significantly over par."
He exchanged glances with Dillon--who, as usual, only looked amused. "No, you shouldn't use it?" he pressed, to see if Dillon would smile. "Why not? Can I use it? Come on, I can call you Kaia, right?"
"No," she snapped. "What part of my answer was unclear?"
Oops.
So that marked one more time he'd pissed her off by paying too much attention to Dillon, which he so hadn't expected when he'd asked to be involved in this. In spite of everything, he just didn't think of her as the dangerous one. And that was why the rest of the team would never guess: she was always mad at him for something, lately.
Maybe it had been a bad idea, Ziggy thought, staring up at the roof of the van. The whole asking thing. Not that he would have done it without asking, since Dillon's feelings were pretty clear... but maybe he shouldn't have done it at all. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to shove his way in.
Of course, lying on the floor in a tangle of three other people, five sleeping bags, and an indeterminate number of makeshift pillows, he had to admit that maintaining a respectful distance wasn't something he did. That wasn't how he worked. He wasn't like Dillon, sitting up in the front passenger seat while his teammates slept, staring through the windshield at the night.
Talking idly to a girlfriend who was more comfortable on a screen than she was in person. Who showed about as much emotion as he did, at the end of the day. Who didn't even use a real name.
"I realize this is going to sound kind of hypocritical," Dillon muttered, his voice barely loud enough to hear over the background hum of equipment in an enclosed space. "But are you still obsessing over that chip?"
Her reply was even softer. Dillon must have turned the output down to keep the rest of them from waking up. "Asking me about it only reminds me how much I don't know," she said.
It was impossible to read her tone at that volume, but Dillon changed the subject and Ziggy was suddenly that much more awake. "So why are you mad at Ziggy?"
There was a long pause. He was sure he hadn't drifted off. Flynn was right there, breathing slow with sleep, and Scott was finally not kicking him, but their voices seemed much farther away when it occurred to him that she was talking again.
"...makes me uncomfortable," her voice said, and maybe he was dreaming, because that didn't sound like anything Dr. K would say. "I don't know what he knows."
Dillon's voice sounded much louder by comparison, but it didn't make any more sense. "You don't know how much he knows," he murmured, "or you think he knows things you don't?"
There was another pause before Dillon's voice added, "'Cause either way, join the club."
Dillon had told her, he thought with a sudden burst of clarity. About the list. The one Ziggy had made about her and then promptly "forgot," the one that made Dillon's eyes soften when it included her favorite color like it was just as important as the names of her labs and think tanks and degrees.
"I'll tell him," Dillon was saying, and he'd missed something in the drowsiness of the moment. Lots of moments. Seriously, Dillon and Dr. K were talking on the phone, in the middle of the night, over a channel that probably required military authorization just to exist. And they were talking about him.
He meant to keep listening, but the next time he opened his eyes their voices were silent and the muted glow from the screen up front was gone.
For previous entries tagged "steering you home,"
click and scroll down (reverse chronology).
He knew he'd screwed up. And he'd meant to apologize, he really had, except that at first he hadn't realized how bad it was and by the time he got it they were in a van 200 kilometers away and she still wasn't speaking to him. She was speaking to Dillon, though--which he guessed was fair--and that's how he figured it out.
Ziggy hadn't thought it was that big a deal. So he'd slipped up and used her real name. Once. One time, so what? Well, maybe a couple of times, but all at once, anyway. Dillon had said it right in front of him; was he supposed to pretend not to hear?
Okay, not said it, exactly.
She liked french fries. He liked mini golf. They'd managed to combine activities in a way that involved Dillon calling advice to him from the bench at the front of the windmill course: Ziggy was squinting down the green, and Dillon was playing with her lunch. Ziggy didn't know how much until he finally sunk the ball on his fifteenth stroke.
Walking back to them, he found the name "Kaia" spelled out in little french fry pieces across her tray. Dillon was idly fashioning an arrow out of the remaining fries. She bumped the tray as soon as he sat down, scattering the letters out of existence, and the way Dillon raised his eyebrow told Ziggy that he hadn't expected that either.
"Kaia, huh?" Ziggy blurted out. "That's pretty. Is that what the 'K' stands for? I like it; you should use it."
"No," she said shortly. "Also, you are significantly over par."
He exchanged glances with Dillon--who, as usual, only looked amused. "No, you shouldn't use it?" he pressed, to see if Dillon would smile. "Why not? Can I use it? Come on, I can call you Kaia, right?"
"No," she snapped. "What part of my answer was unclear?"
Oops.
So that marked one more time he'd pissed her off by paying too much attention to Dillon, which he so hadn't expected when he'd asked to be involved in this. In spite of everything, he just didn't think of her as the dangerous one. And that was why the rest of the team would never guess: she was always mad at him for something, lately.
Maybe it had been a bad idea, Ziggy thought, staring up at the roof of the van. The whole asking thing. Not that he would have done it without asking, since Dillon's feelings were pretty clear... but maybe he shouldn't have done it at all. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to shove his way in.
Of course, lying on the floor in a tangle of three other people, five sleeping bags, and an indeterminate number of makeshift pillows, he had to admit that maintaining a respectful distance wasn't something he did. That wasn't how he worked. He wasn't like Dillon, sitting up in the front passenger seat while his teammates slept, staring through the windshield at the night.
Talking idly to a girlfriend who was more comfortable on a screen than she was in person. Who showed about as much emotion as he did, at the end of the day. Who didn't even use a real name.
"I realize this is going to sound kind of hypocritical," Dillon muttered, his voice barely loud enough to hear over the background hum of equipment in an enclosed space. "But are you still obsessing over that chip?"
Her reply was even softer. Dillon must have turned the output down to keep the rest of them from waking up. "Asking me about it only reminds me how much I don't know," she said.
It was impossible to read her tone at that volume, but Dillon changed the subject and Ziggy was suddenly that much more awake. "So why are you mad at Ziggy?"
There was a long pause. He was sure he hadn't drifted off. Flynn was right there, breathing slow with sleep, and Scott was finally not kicking him, but their voices seemed much farther away when it occurred to him that she was talking again.
"...makes me uncomfortable," her voice said, and maybe he was dreaming, because that didn't sound like anything Dr. K would say. "I don't know what he knows."
Dillon's voice sounded much louder by comparison, but it didn't make any more sense. "You don't know how much he knows," he murmured, "or you think he knows things you don't?"
There was another pause before Dillon's voice added, "'Cause either way, join the club."
Dillon had told her, he thought with a sudden burst of clarity. About the list. The one Ziggy had made about her and then promptly "forgot," the one that made Dillon's eyes soften when it included her favorite color like it was just as important as the names of her labs and think tanks and degrees.
"I'll tell him," Dillon was saying, and he'd missed something in the drowsiness of the moment. Lots of moments. Seriously, Dillon and Dr. K were talking on the phone, in the middle of the night, over a channel that probably required military authorization just to exist. And they were talking about him.
He meant to keep listening, but the next time he opened his eyes their voices were silent and the muted glow from the screen up front was gone.