New fic: The truthful observer
Title: The truthful observer
Characters/Pairings: Sparky, one-sided Sparky/Speed, X/Speed
Summary: People considered the Racers to be a normal family?
Rating: T
Genre: Angst, song-fic ('Outta my hands for now" by the Dave Mathews Band)
A/N: Part of my Truth series, with 'Truth is in the eyes of the beholder' and 'The Unmasked Truth', though can be read alone. Dedicated to Alichay who whined there wasn't enough Sparky in the fandom, and who loves this song.
Well this was fun. And people considered the Racers a nice, normal family? What complete bullshit. Behind the happy, smiley, milk and cookie image they showed the world they were possibly the most dysfunctional family ever. Period. Oh well.
It’s out of my hands for now
I came after Rex left, so I can’t say what they were like before that, how changed they were, the only thing I noticed was that it was hard for Pops to go from race team to plain garage, dealing with many alien cars after only having one special one. I wasn’t allowed to lift the covers off the one that stayed in the corner.
It’s out of my hands for now
They never talked about Rex and I wasn’t allowed to bring it up. It was as if he’d never existed, except for the room that was kept the same and the car in the corner. When I eventually asked about them (it wasn’t directly about Rex) I was told that they were Speed’s now, that they were just waiting for him to grow into them. So Pops hadn’t given up hope of being a race team again and Mom was just that desperate to have Rex back, it was kinda sick actually. Maybe I could see where this Rex had been coming from when he left. But I couldn’t do that to them.
I can’t just walk away
Then Rex died. I saw the headline on my way to work, wondered if I’d have to be the one to let them know about their hated, beloved son. I should have known they still watched all his races when I wasn’t there. Pops informed me with a stormy face that the garage was closed (my hint to take a hike), through the open door I could see Mom murmuring false comforts to Speed. Maybe she would have given up if she’d bothered to look at his glassy eyed face. When I left I knew which one I was most worried about. Still, I thought, maybe this is my chance to escape.
Be nice to walk away
A year later and I got the call. Racer Motors was back in business, would I like my old job back? I thought back to my time in that crazy happy sad house, where everyone looked like they were breaking behind their smiles, how choked and deranged they had made me feel; who wouldn’t have said no? But then I remembered the kid with the candy sweet smiles and desperately lost eyes. I said yes.
Be nice to walk away
But Speed wasn’t how I remembered him. I think the lack of proper emotional ties to hold on to had left him cold, inverted. I guess I was the second (though less important) person to leave him behind with nothing but his strained, stepford family, and he was angry. Sure, he appeared well adjusted; all happy and smiley (just like Mom and Pops had taught him) but there were times I’d catch his eye when the mask wasn’t up. It nearly choked me, what I saw; all this uncontrollable rage coupled with the same drowning despair and horrified betrayal. It was then I figured he might possibly be the most unbalanced Racer of all; more so than Pops; who could suddenly fly into the blackest rages, or Mom and her seemingly random tears. Plus, replacing Rex with a new brother for Speed? Bad idea. Really, really bad.
But I don’t feel safe
Yet still Speed seemed to draw me to him, I just couldn’t stay away, my life began to orbit the boy. I took on more and more tasks involving Speed; picking him up from school, taking him to the park occasionally, ferrying him between home and Trixie’s house, just to be involved, to try and be crucial to him. And it worked to some extent, Speed did sometimes cling to me with an urgency that was unnerving, but he also hated me for it, hated me for making him crave something he desperately needed but wasn’t mine to give, not really. Yet again I realised I’d walked into the part of Rex’s resented replacement. Goody.
But I didn’t stop, I continued dutifully and took a mean, perverse pleasure in being able to enjoy watching Speed grow up when the almighty Rex couldn’t, clearly the fucked upness of the Racers was catching. The intensity of the resentment for Rex and protective adoration of Speed continued to frighten me, keeping me up at night, and there were times I had to just walk out of that house for a while, just to get away from it. I never looked behind to see if piercing eyes watched my departure.
Get away, all the way up here
I’d tried desperately to preserve Speed’s childhood from the clichéd nightmare it had become, but I couldn’t, all I could do was occasionally alleviate it. Then came the day I turned around only to see that Speed had at some point become an adult. This epiphany had shortly been followed by the even bigger one that shit, I think I might love him. But I couldn’t force Speed to love me back, I could only try to imitate what Speed needed and try to coax the love out of him. If there was any left, if it hadn’t been used up on people who clearly didn’t deserve it or squeezed out by terrible circumstances.
It’s out of my hands for now.
I watched as Speed slowly immersed himself in the racing world more and more, becoming a key part of it, a major participator rather than a key observer. And I tried to follow him into its neon depths, becoming a spotter, learning everything I could about the car, and about him. But I could never keep up; he was freefalling upwards towards the top. The racers are the crutch, the face and the centre of racing, we can meddle and we can assist but the reality is that it’s just them, chasing rainbows and fighting each other for the stars. So it was with a depressing sense of inevitability that I watched Pops let them in. I saw him stare continuously at Speed throughout, never taking his eyes off Speed, like a starving man when faced with nourishment after so long without. He didn’t let anyone see his eyes but I could tell he was drinking Speed up, practically fucking him with his eyes, and no one else either noticed or cared. But I couldn’t do anything; they were potential allies, they offered Speed a lifeline and could be his source of protection.
It’s out of my hands for now
I had to watch as X managed to worm his way closer to Speed, getting closer to him in months than I had in years. He seemed to know exactly what to do with Speed, rarely slipped up on the assault course that was interacting with him, being able to slip past his considerable defences with relative ease, and effectively dismantling his walls with patience where others had given up, failed, or even reinforced. And still I couldn’t do a fucking thing.
Start to feel insane
Speed initially ran, that much was obvious by how far he went to avoid him. But he couldn’t always; the man seemed to be attached to the Inspector (someone who was looking out for and doing more for Speed than the rest of our combined efforts could, I had to keep reminding myself), and I doubt there was anywhere to hide in the locker rooms, unless he crawled inside an actual locker. Besides, Speed wouldn’t want to appear weak; from what I can grasp locker rooms are a place for strutting and intimidation, where racers become peacocks with their feathers outstretched. But eventually, tentatively, Speed began to resist less, to take cautious steps towards X, who patiently waited with arms outstretched. Soon, he was actively seeking out the mysterious bastard who had become the replacement for the replacement.
Betrayed
Whilst I’d tried for years to even partially immerse myself in Speed’s world, X seemed to know a backdoor route straight to the heart of it, and therefore to Speed’s heart. The mysteries that were Speed didn’t seem to puzzle him at all, he never lost his way in the Labyrinth, and that really fucking pissed me off, because they weren’t simple, and I couldn’t. If Speed’d let me I would have happily spent the rest of my life lost in that maze. But he wouldn’t.
Let me in
I’d tried to be everything to Speed. I’d tried to be his carer, his confidant, his best friend and brother figure. I did it because that’s what Speed needed and what he craved. I’d done everything I could to make myself necessary to Speed so that I could be essential to Speed. Guess I never could be.
Let me in
After a while the feeling of uselessness to do anything had led to a feeling of detachment, like I was separate from events and could have no real input into events. The whole feeling was kinda like sitting in spotters’ box at races, trying to help, but ultimately being powerless to really be of any primary help.
Looking down from here
Their coming together seemed almost like the hands of fate or destiny or something were pulling them together, like their souls were tied together or any of that of spiritual crap. I hated having to be witness to their growing chemistry, seeing their eyes catch and their whole fucking worlds being consumed by each other.
Watch the days lights up with fire
My thoughts started twisting, my obsession grew and my hatred for the mysterious bastard X expanded. He was playing on Speed’s weird attraction to him, preying on his powerful need for Rex and association between the two. And Speed was letting him, because Speed was pathetic in his reliance and it made me want to screamhurtrunstaylaughcry.
I start to feel like I'm crazed
But my dad’s old saying kept coming back to me; ‘If you love something, you let it go’, and, dammit, I did love Speed, that was what this whole fucking problem was. So because I loved him, I stood there and let things unfold, because he needed X, and he needed X to need him. Something which X seemed more than happy to do.
It's outta my hands for now
But if there was any chance that he’d stop needing X, or if he turned out not to be what he was looking for, then I was more than ready to step back in. Still waiting at his door, however pitiably.
So let me in
‘Cause I still can’t completely let go. I’m still wrapped around his little finger and I’m here until he eventually tells me to get lost. Pending that, I’ll still be banging on the door, scraping at the window, beginning entry.
Let me in