Perhaps it was merely that, as he'd said to Tina, that hanging around their quarters was getting kind of old. Maybe it was that he hadn't seen or heard from the young Mr. Scott in several days, or his occasional ponderings over whether the Buick might be sentient.
Perhaps it was. But there was something else to it, some indefinable sense of restlessness added to all of the above that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
He'd half expected to find Scotty in or around the Buick, but he was nowhere to be seen. There was only the car, standing still and elegantly in its mismatching surroundings, and Leonard opened the drivers' door, let himself slide into the seat, noting not without some surprise that he hadn't actually sat in this, his place, since she arrived.
"Hey Lady," he said gently, running a hand over the smooth wheel in front of him. "Missed me?"
Whether it was perceptible or not, the car sighed around him, accepting his weight with contentment that cried out to express itself.
Yes, she had missed him. Yes, she thrilled to his touch on her wheel. Yes, it frustrated her that she couldn't express that, that she wanted to and had not the means. The ship had offered her hope, but that was all it was.
Len belonged there. And the Buick had no way of keeping him.
"I'm sorry I didn't come back earlier. Been thinking about you, now and then, silly as that probably sounds." Leonard sighed a little, then decided, to hell with it, he might as well pour out what frustrations he had to the car. Had helped at least a little, way back when in the 60s.
"I feel kind of useless, you know. They had this whole rescue mission, that went down, and we didn't even know of it. I mean, why would we? We're... actors. We don't belong on board a starship, and I think I'm starting to get a little stircrazy, truth be told. I mean, there's Bill," a soft smile at that, not that the car would see it, "and that's lovely and wonderful and distracting, but then there's also De, and I'm worried about him. He's so incredibly fragile these days, in every sense. Bill carried him home when he fell asleep in the observation lounge with Bill, and all I could think was how goddamn thin he was
( ... )
She hadn't expected to understand what he was saying. And possibly, she didn't--she was just a car, used to waiting. She didn't know anything about a mission and at the best of times, cars took no action--they were driven. So she was surprised that what he was saying made some kind of sense, at least viscerally. Or what passed for that, automotively.
But mostly, it didn't matter what he said. He was Len, and he was talking, and he was talking to her, like he used to, making her feel important and present and his.
She wished that meant more. That there was something she could do. She had completed the only task she had ever felt she had, and didn't even know how she'd done that. And now she was left wanting more than was going to ever be granted her--and not knowing what that was.
As they stepped out of the turbolift, Bill was conscious of a lurching sense of anticipation in his stomach.
It was not exactly his style to walk about the Enterprise actually holding Leonard's hand, but in this instance, he felt the extra sense of strength and assurance was necessary as the Buick hove into sight.
How many times had Bill ridden in that thing? He had even driven it, once or twice. They had gone to baseball games in it, to the set in it, to and from most everybody's house in it. Bill had had it towed away and had used it as a temporary dog-kennel. De had even rammed it once with his own car. And yet all this time, had it really been sentient?
Bill felt rather bad for the Buick, which in itself was a very weird feeling.
Leonard felt curiously anxious, as they approached the Buick - not so much because of Bill meeting her, but about the distant possibility that their communication really had been a one-time only thing.
He stroked his hand over her hood before opening the driver's door for Bill, and raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
Bill hesitated, blinking up at Len. The Buick had always been Len's particular baby, and Bill was not allowed to drive her except in extreme circumstances. He had been prepared to get into his usual position in the passenger's seat, so this was unusual. "Isn't this your seat?"
She hadn't actually expected him back so soon. And certainly not with Bill in tow. The tension she'd noted between them was long gone, but there was a new sense about them, something that thrilled her almost as much as the touch of Leonard's hand on her hood. Scotty and the other human had washed her painstakingly, but she almost liked the thought of Leonard's hand leaving a smudge.
What if he couldn't hear her anymore? What if that was it? What if she'd imagined the whole thing? Fear rose within her, spiked by the anticipation that she now worried would be thwarted.
Comments 139
Perhaps it was merely that, as he'd said to Tina, that hanging around their quarters was getting kind of old. Maybe it was that he hadn't seen or heard from the young Mr. Scott in several days, or his occasional ponderings over whether the Buick might be sentient.
Perhaps it was. But there was something else to it, some indefinable sense of restlessness added to all of the above that he couldn't quite put his finger on.
He'd half expected to find Scotty in or around the Buick, but he was nowhere to be seen. There was only the car, standing still and elegantly in its mismatching surroundings, and Leonard opened the drivers' door, let himself slide into the seat, noting not without some surprise that he hadn't actually sat in this, his place, since she arrived.
"Hey Lady," he said gently, running a hand over the smooth wheel in front of him. "Missed me?"
Reply
Yes, she had missed him. Yes, she thrilled to his touch on her wheel. Yes, it frustrated her that she couldn't express that, that she wanted to and had not the means. The ship had offered her hope, but that was all it was.
Len belonged there. And the Buick had no way of keeping him.
Reply
"I feel kind of useless, you know. They had this whole rescue mission, that went down, and we didn't even know of it. I mean, why would we? We're... actors. We don't belong on board a starship, and I think I'm starting to get a little stircrazy, truth be told. I mean, there's Bill," a soft smile at that, not that the car would see it, "and that's lovely and wonderful and distracting, but then there's also De, and I'm worried about him. He's so incredibly fragile these days, in every sense. Bill carried him home when he fell asleep in the observation lounge with Bill, and all I could think was how goddamn thin he was ( ... )
Reply
But mostly, it didn't matter what he said. He was Len, and he was talking, and he was talking to her, like he used to, making her feel important and present and his.
She wished that meant more. That there was something she could do. She had completed the only task she had ever felt she had, and didn't even know how she'd done that. And now she was left wanting more than was going to ever be granted her--and not knowing what that was.
Reply
It was not exactly his style to walk about the Enterprise actually holding Leonard's hand, but in this instance, he felt the extra sense of strength and assurance was necessary as the Buick hove into sight.
How many times had Bill ridden in that thing? He had even driven it, once or twice. They had gone to baseball games in it, to the set in it, to and from most everybody's house in it. Bill had had it towed away and had used it as a temporary dog-kennel. De had even rammed it once with his own car. And yet all this time, had it really been sentient?
Bill felt rather bad for the Buick, which in itself was a very weird feeling.
How did one begin communing with a car, anyway?
Reply
He stroked his hand over her hood before opening the driver's door for Bill, and raising an inquisitive eyebrow.
Reply
Reply
What if he couldn't hear her anymore? What if that was it? What if she'd imagined the whole thing? Fear rose within her, spiked by the anticipation that she now worried would be thwarted.
Reply
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