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Date & Time: Noon of 3/28
Location: Abandoned school parking lot out in the city!!
Characters: Bariyan (

stonefaith), Martin Darkov (

theguideless)
Summary: More driving shenanigans! More driving shenanigans gone WRONG.
Warnings: watch out there's a darkov behind the wheel

Bariyan was beginning to feel just a little bit hopeful about Martin's driving lessons. The kid was doing all right now. He could sort of navigate his way around the parking lot, at least. Bariyan still wouldn't trust him to, say, try and maneuver his way up a mountain road while being chased by overpowered masked freaks. But Bariyan didn't exactly trust himself to do that sort of thing either.

After their last lesson, he'd told Martin to meet him at the parking lot again, today, at noon. Bariyan had arrived much earlier than that, mostly on account of having little else to do. He'd spent the last fifteen minutes or so lounging against the hood of the sedan watching the clouds make their slow roll across the sky and thinking idle thoughts.

He liked having the lessons. He was just trying to decide what it was that he liked about them: the teaching, the car, the way that time suddenly passed much faster, or maybe even Martin's company. Or all of them? In any case, it was a rather odd feeling. In all the time since his resurrection, this was the first time he'd ever felt anything but hollow misery.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Tick-tock.

No pocketwatches in Exsilium, but he could recall the sound of it in his head. It got louder and louder and faster as the sun raced across the sky each day. Sometimes Martin could make his heartbeat so much louder, but soon enough he could swear it was in rhythm with the imaginary clock, and it frightened him. Every part of himself knew where he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do, how wrong it was to stay idle...

So driving lessons became exercises in playing pretend. Or simply making excuses. Excusing himself from constant, quaking panic for an hour or two to scare himself in a more manageable way, complete with the voice of someone with knowledge and care. The smell was still gut-churningly awful, but if he breathed in more with his mouth for a bit until it became a kind of smell-taste, he did alright. He learned how to operate the windows early on, too.

He was late. Hardly for getting lost: Routine was making it easy to find his way back and forth on that particular route. He'd just...trying to count the days and...

It was really no good. He went in defeat, in retreat. Bariyan would talk and make him think about something else until maybe the ticking would go away for a chance to stop feeling afraid. It's just a bad excuse, but...

"Sorry!" he called, just barely skirting past the worn-out fence, panting loudly. He knew he was late just by staring at shadows. "Sorry, I...I should've ran the whole way..."

Bariyan found it rather difficult to snap out of his daze. He slowly turned to look at Martin, blinking at him for a while before finally realizing that he probably ought to respond.

"Hey. Don't worry about it," Bariyan said. Having to talk was enough to wake him the rest of the way. He straightened up and looked around to re-familiarize himself with their surroundings.

He pulled the keys out and paused to look at them. They'd had a decent number of lessons already, but Bariyan was still holding on to the keys himself. He figured he probably ought to hand them over to Martin soon.

He held the keys out. "Here."

Martin was late to really read the dazed expression, soon wondering if it meant something was wrong or...or he'd tried his patience by being tardy. It kept him hustling, slowing to a trot and snatching the keys in a fluid, unhesitating motion. It was a routine, more or less, and he knew it well enough not to falter. He rounded the front of the car to his side, going to the effort of unlocking an already unlocked door (routine) and hopping inside without a second thought.

Tick-tock.

Bariyan watched Martin swing around and slip into the seat, but didn't think much of it. Except that it was odd, sometimes, the contrasts of Martin's personality: his easy confidence now against the nervous, aplogetic nature that Bariyan had come to expect from him.

Bariyan shrugged it off and climbed in himself.

"You wanna try the roads today?" They'd mostly stuck to the parking lot for the past few lessons, but Bariyan figured it might be time to move on. The streets surrounding the school were all in equally bad shape and it would be rough going there, but he'd looked around earlier. A left turn a couple blocks down from here led to slightly better-paved roads.

On his side, Martin's door stayed open until Bariyan himself got in, and even a little after that. He'd planned to turn the car on right away to make the windows go down, but the suggestion stopped him short, his gaze flickering over. He had a shade of that familiar, uneasy expression.

"Is...that going to be alright?" he asked, slow and doubting.

"Yeah. I think you'll be fine." Bariyan was surprised by his own lack of hesitation. But really, what could go wrong? Martin hadn't crashed yet. So long as they took it slow, Bariyan was sure that it would turn out all right.

Besides, they had to move on to the next stage eventually.

Bariyan fixed Martin with a stare as he shut his door. "You feeling up to it, then?"

"Uh..."

He was hardly feeling up to anything, but...It was a shot at doing something new -- doing it right.

"Alright..."

So far, Bariyan hadn't steered him wrong. He steered better than Martin did, though...

The key hovered close to the ignition as he shot a glance back over, waiting for permission.

Bariyan grinned. He was somewhat (guiltily) relieved that they were finally leaving the parking lot.

"All right, go ahead and start it up then. Then turn us around and head down that way." Bariyan twisted in his seat to gesture towards the drive out from the school and into the road proper. "Keep it slow. The road's pretty bad, but I think it evens out a little bit away from here."

The routine wasn't quite wholly ingrained, as some motions were stamped into his brain more firmly than others. Seatbelts, for one, went on the wayside over the many steps it took to turning the car on and putting it into the right gear.

So far, so good; he knew better how to work the pedals instead of stomping them. The brake more than the gas – that one was still tricky. Slower than need really be, perhaps, but Martin got the car turning anyway, and then stopped.

"Which way...?"

"Right. Then keep heading straight. I'll let you know when to turn again." This part of the city was fairly quiet, so Bariyan was hoping they wouldn't have to worry about pedestrians, but he thought it prudent to bring the topic up anyway. "And keep an eye out for people on the street. Don't hit anyone."

And, almost as an afterthought: "Might want to strap yourself in, too."

Which meant that Bariyan probably ought to be a good role model, so he reached over his shoulder to pull his own seatbelt out.

Right. Straight. Don't hit people. It was enough to keep Martin's mind preoccupied – especially that last part. So much so that he startled a little at the click of Bariyan's buckle, staring for a couple seconds before thinking to do likewise.

Click. Exhale.

He had little issue turning, but straightening out and staying that way was still difficult; he had a tendency to veer one way or the other, making too much of an adjustment when told. Hardly an issue in an open lot, but now there were lines to follow.

Martin leaned up, chin nearly hovering over the wheel, to see where he was going – the going wasn't much of a drag race, either.

He took notice of Martin's trouble staying within the boundaries of the road. Which, to be fair, Bariyan was hardly any good at either. He'd never worried much about sharing the road here or back home and so he had a tendency to simply drive where he liked, which was often smack in the middle of the street. But he understood that this was generally frowned upon.

"Here." Bariyan leaned over and down to get to Martin's eye level, trying to get a feel for the other's point of view. Gods, it was a low point of view.

Then he pointed out a point between the window and the dashboard. "Focus on that. Try to get the lines on the road to line up with that spot."

"Uh--"

The closer Bariyan got, the further Martin sank, half out of habit and half out of need to breathe without the smell and creeping feeling at the back of his neck. As he slid, his foot gradually sank down on the pedal, speeding the scene ahead up as he peered through the gap in the wheel where Bariyan was pointing.

"Uh, Bariyan--"

Bariyan drew back, only to look at Martin and return his personal space to him.

"Yes?" He glanced out the window, then down at Martin again and added, "Might want to ease up on that pedal there."

He breathed, like someone who'd just surfaced from a dive, sinking back in the seat, digging his heels into the mat of the floor to push himself up to see. The pull of the car speeding up made the uneasy feeling in his stomach worse; he lifted his foot away only to realize he'd...already done that.

"I...I did..."

It possibly took Bariyan just a little too long to figure out the implications of that. And definitely too long to figure out what to do about it.

What? How? No, Martin's foot was far away from the pedal and the vehicle was still accelerating... Fuck.

First thing he did was look out the windows again, though his gaze flicked fast from place to place. Buildings all alongside, of course, they were still within the city. They wouldn't want to steer off the road and risk a crash-- and oh, gods, Martin's steering was hardly the best--

Bariyan immediately went for the wheel, making a gentle but firm attempt to get Martin to let go in the process.

"Shift us into neutral. The 'N'. Be quick about it," he said, eyes on the road, voice almost deadpan in order to hide panic.

"I, I-I--"

Martin's mind went blank. All the lessons in the world weren't worth a grain of salt if they couldn't take hold for the times they were meant. A trouble he'd had well before Exsilium.

The feeling didn't register right away, like water gradually turning very, very hot. Martin winced, recoiling sharply and shrinking into the seat. Not again, not again!

"I--What?!" he cried, a little shrill. Listen, stupid!

Too slow. Somewhere in the back of Bariyan's mind -- the part of him that realized he wasn't in danger -- thought that a lesson could be taught here. Or a good example made. But the slightly more practical part of Bariyan realized that Martin was still very much alive and that death would not look good on him.

Bariyan let go of the wheel with one hand to switch into neutral himself. But there was one thing that he had to get Martin to do.

"Martin. Step down on the brakes. Now." Deadpan, and loud to boot. It was the voice he used to talk to his partners back home. The ones who sometimes wouldn't start listening until you smashed them in the face with a brick.

Martin could feel his limbs going numb very quickly, giving the dreadful feeling in his stomach all the more power. No more breathing, only panic; his fingers curled into the fabric of the seat as hard as they could, heels pressed up against the base and knees tight together, shoulders drawn up and as tense as the rest of him.

He stared straight ahead without blinking. If anything admirable came out of frozen horror, it was at least being able to watch his own doom transpire.

Seeing no response from the boy, Bariyan quietly swore to himself and went back to concentrating on the road. If it remained clear and straight then the damn thing would coast to a halt eventually -- maybe. But it was already rocky going with their speed and the state of these roads. And he was almost certain that they'd run into some sort of barricade soon.

One more try, then. Bariyan's voice was loud before: but this was an actual shout. He used to have a battlefield voice. His ruined throat had taken that away from him, but for a brief moment the tone of unquestionable command comes back to him.

"Darkov! Get the brakes!"

The roar in his ear went unheeded for precious seconds, his reaction delayed. But when it registered, it was a lightning strike jolting him to react thoughtlessly. He hunched over, clamping his hands over his ears. Once it clicked – Brakes? – his foot moved, stomping and searching for the brake.

The seat belts locked as he slammed the brake at last, yelping and recoiling at the heavy force of the stop. His foot hit the brake three more times as he caught himself not doing as told.

Halfway through Martin's first stomp on the brakes, Bariyan had started to steer the car slightly off to the side to avoid something in the road -- he hadn't even registered what it was, only that it was present. Distracted as he was, the stop took him by surprise when it did come and for one second he swore they were still going to crash, or flip the car, or....

Bariyan snapped back to attention. "Hold them." He wasn't yelling anymore, at least.

Holding was a bit beyond him; Martin's leg was shaking, causing a jittery stop, giving the brake pads a real workout. The shoulder strap dug into his collar sharply, but it hardly stopped him from trying to curl forward against it. His fingernails dug into the scalp.

Dead, he was thinking, despairing. I'm dead. Something's dead again.

Trying to control the wheel from this angle, while still strapped in, was growing awkward and difficult. So Bariyan unthinkingly freed himself from his seatbelt.

Since he now had a hand free, and since Darkov apparently wasn't listening again, Bariyan also went ahead and made an attempt to hold the boy's foot against the pedal by pressing his hand down on Martin's knee.

"I said hold." Eyes still on the road. Watching the world start to slow and still waiting for something even worse to happen.

The firm pressure on his leg, unexpected and unwanted, caused Martin to flinch, letting out a startled cry that staggered with a lack of fresh breath. It died off with a whine as he rocked back, then forward again, which unlocked the belt and sent his head down on the wheel. His hands dragged down from his ears and neck to the belt, curling his fingers tight around it.

"I ca--I can't--"

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