Accident

A terrible accident shakes Throttle's confidence down to nothing. Can Charley help him get it back?

Disclaimer: I don't own the Biker Mice from Mars.

Accident

It was late, going on into the midnight hours at the Last Chance garage. Charley sat up from her work on a '94 Victory bike, stretching to pull the kinks out of her back. The things you do to get by, she thought to herself. Of course, this sort of thing was nothing compared to what her boys had been doing lately. Limburger had been unusually active lately with bank heists, factory take-overs, just about anything he could think of to drain the mice's reserves. He'd finally run out of steam a week ago, (probably couldnt' afford hiring all the super-villains for that long), and the last week had been eerily quiet.

All three biker mice had been out late on patrol to be sure they didn't miss any action. But tonight, Throttle hadn't come back to the scoreboard. His bike didn't put out a distress signal and its homing beacon still worked, he was apparently just out cruising. Vinnie had called earlier with the update, asking her to keep an eye out for their bro when he decided to come in. She'd laughed and promised to let them know if he came over. the white mouse might not want to admit it, but he did have some mother-hen tendencies, (that he vicsiously denied existed).

The sound of a familiar engine roaring outside made the mechanic smile as she slid off her roll board. Throttle was coming in, so she hurried to pull open the garage doors. They raised with a clatter of old metal and he drove the black and chrome beauty in to rest. She pulled the doors back down and turned to welcome him in when the sight of him made her pause.

He had turned off the cylce and was just sitting there, his body locked with some odd tension. She saw scrapes and tears on the side of his leather vest and black pants, matching the dents and scrapes on his bike. Dirt and bits of gravel clung in the bloody scratches on his left arm. A spiderweb of cracks marred the side of his helmet, and the small patch of rust colored fur near his left eye made her wince. What had happened to him?!

"Throttle?" she called softly. It seemed like he didn't even hear her as he pulled the helmet off, exposing a gash above his eyebrow. It looked like his glasses had been forced back somehow and cut into his face. His hands shook with fine, barely noticable tremors as they held his broken helmet. That slight shaking spread to the rest of his body, his tail begining to twitch like mad. He pulled off his shades, his red eyes far too wide open. Charley realized that he was in some form of shock, and most likely didn't even know where he was.

"Throttle?" She moved over to his uninjured side, going slow to not startle him, and gently took hold of his arm. "Throttle? C'mon, babe, c'mon over here with me, okay?" With some coaxing, she got him off his bike and into the living room, sitting him down on the couch. She hurried to get the first aid kit and went to work cleaning the injuries she could see.

He still hadn't said one word to her. That worried her more than anything. From what she could tell, none of his wounds were serious enough to cause the kind of shock he was experiencing. Something very bad must have happened, but wouldn't he have called for his bros to help him?

Charley kept her touch light as she worked at cleaning to blood and dirt away from the cuts and scrapes. She wanted to ask what was going on, but it felt too akward to talk somehow. She kept her silence, figuring that he would talk when he was ready.

Throttle felt like he was in a daze, his thoughts spinning in his head too fast for him to catch. He was dimly aware of coming to a stop on his bike, of the smells of the garage and of Charley-girl's slight perfume. The kind touch of her hands, her voice trying to soothe him. Oh gods, he couldnt' look at her, not after that, what he'd done. A pressure was building up in his throat, ready to choke him into confession, but the words wouldn't come. He tried to start, swallowing to push down that pressure, but the words still wouldn't come.

Charley sat next to her friend, hoping her presence helped him a little. She saw his struggle and cupped his soft-furred cheek in her palm. Her voice sounded so soft in that odd silence as she spoke. "Whenever you're ready, big guy."

The Martian closed his eyes against such a gentle touch. He didn't deserve it. His deep voice shook as he began to talk. "I was in a wreck today." he swallowed again. "I almost killed a kid."

She couldn't help her soft gasp.

He flinched at the sound. "I--I was uptown in the suburbs. The sun had just gone down and I had pulled into this little street to turn back around. Took the scenic route," he said in self-depreciation, "I just wanted to look around for a while. And I didn't see the sign they had on the street post. Deaf child area. I saw it on the way out. I didn't see it going in"--his breath hitched a moment--"and I just drove through full speed.

"And this little girl came out from behind the fence and ran into the road, chasing some ball, I think. She couldn't have been more than four years old. She was so tiny and small, and I couldn't slow down, Charley, I couldn't slow down."

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memory. "I turned my bike as hard as I could, locked her brakes and cut hard left. Went down to the ground, slid halfway down the street, there was this sharp screeching sound, Charley. We finally slowed down and stopped, and I was scared to look back, see if I hurt her. Gods, I couldn't take it if I hurt her. And she was just standing there, looked so terrified that she couldn't even scream. She started to cry"--he tried to push down the lump in his throat. It felt like he couldn't breathe when he talked.

"I heard a scream and this lady came running out from the house and picked her up. Her mom, I think. She was yelling something, but I couldn't really hear her, there was this ringing in my ears. I couldn't hear her, but I could tell what she was saying. I'd have said even worse if"--he gasped for breath against that awful pressure building up again--"if someone almost killed my little girl"--

He couldn't speak another word as his head fell forward into his hands. The mouse's body began to shudder as he fought to draw in air to breathe. Charley reached out and pulled him over to lean on her, she couldn't stand seeing him in such pain. Strong arms wrapped around her in a trembling grip as Throttle began to silently cry. The girl returned the embrace, pulling them both back until she leaned back against the couch's arm and braced him with her body. She began to comb her fingers through his mane, stroking the backs of his ears, anything she could think of to soothe him as he wept.

She could hear him berating himself the entire time, a terrible tone of self-loathing in his voice. "Oh gods, I almost killed a kid, almost murdered a child. Charley, why didn't I see that sign?! I should have paid attention, should have seen her coming"--he gasped in a sob--"but no, I didn't even think to look. I didn't think that some little girl wouldn't hear me coming, I didn't even think to slow down by houses that obviously had kids, oh gods, Charley!" He buried his face into her shoulder, his tears seeping into her shirt.

"If--If I hadn't gone to ground, I'd have killed her, Charley, that tiny little girl. How could I be so slagging stupid?! Some rider I am, huh?"

She knew he couldn't keep thinking like that. "Throttle, the fact that you're a good rider is all that saved that girl"--

"A good rider would have slowed down, would have looked out to see if kids were there by a bunch of houses!" he cried. "A good rider would have paid attention and never had to go down in the first place!"

"But you did go down and chose to risk yourself rather than hurt a child!" Her voice nearly gave out on her as she tried to comfort her friend. "You didn't hurt her, Throttle, you didn't hurt her."

"But I could have!" His voice dropped low. "I didn't look to see if anyone was there and I almost killed her."

"And you didn't," Charley soothed, brushing his bangs back. "You made a mistake, and thank god no one else was hurt by it. Throttle, everyone makes mistakes, they don't pay attention and stupid, tragic things are the usual result. I don't know if I could have avoided her if it had been me in that situation. But you did, and everything turned out okay. It'll be okay."

He let his head drop back onto her shoulder and lay quietly for a moment, absorbing her words. His squeezed her waist in a hug, ducking his face further into her shoulder as embarassment set in. "You must think I'm some kind of wuss for dripping all over you like this--ow!" He pulled back, wincing from where she'd flicked the rim of his ear. "What was that for?"

"For being a dork," she scolded. "You needed a shoulder to lean on, what a terrible crime." She smiled to take the sting from her words. "There's nothing wrong with coming to friend when something bad happens. That's what your friends are for, you know. But"--she blushed--"I'm honored you trusted me enough to come to me."

"Stoker claims you're a good listener," the mouse said, finding a smile as he rested his head on her shoulder.

"That's me, the universal shoulder of mice everywhere," she joked. Her tone became suddenly serious as she whispered, "Someday, I think I might need a shoulder to lean on too. Will you loan me yours when that happens?"

He reached down to catch her hand and laced his fingers
through hers. "I promise, darlin', whenever you need it, you just ask and I'll be there."

They lay in comfortable silence for what felt like hours, just living in this one moment for as long as they could. The world outside could do without them for a little while.