Coming Home

by Dawn

Part Three

Rex was alive.

He’d gotten stuck on that thought a while back, like an engine with a faulty starter, unable to move past it however many times he tried. Alex was Rex, Rex was Racer X, Rex was married, all of it would probably matter sometime later but right now he didn’t have the room to process any of it. Rex was alive!

Sparky had the feeling there’d probably been a vague, stupid smile on his face ever since the revelation in the hospital room. Certainly he’d been drifting about with his mind more than a decade away.

With a name like Wilson Sparkolomew, he probably would have had trouble with his classmates regardless of any other factors. He was also short, new, not academically inclined, and couldn’t care less about any sport that didn’t include engines. In the seventh grade, it was a situation made for disaster.

Rex Racer had been the amazingly cool high-school student whose friendship automatically made Sparky cool by association. No one made fun of him after Rex, already winning all the Thunderhead junior division races, made it known that Sparky was a genius mechanic. It had been Rex who first called him Sparky, too.

He’d spent more time at the track and at the Racer house than in his own home, empty while his father worked long hours. Speed had grieved with him after Rex’s loss, because they both knew how it felt to lose a brother.

But Rex was alive, and while Sparky might eventually be upset over the lost years, right now he could only be grateful for the miracle.

Lost in the past, he’d been listening to Elena with no more than half an ear. Then he heard her pledge to Mom and Pops. “I’ll keep your son safe if I possibly can,” she said, and Sparky froze.

It was a feeling not unlike being hit with a socket wrench, only less painful. He looked across the compartment at Rex’s wife, and a slow smile of recognition crept to his face as the memory absorbed him again.

Eleven years ago

The Mach Five took on the same shimmering color as the clouds in the light of early sunrise, with her own metallic sheen that to Sparky’s eyes outshone the sky completely. He trailed a hand along the white curve of the hood, glancing guiltily at the silent Racer household. He shouldn’t be here. Stopping here on the way to the airport was just asking for trouble, he had no good reason to be here.

He and Rex had built this car together, from engine to final waxing. Pops Racer had designed it and encouraged them along the way, but it had been Rex’s special project. Sparky sighed, searching his memory again for any hint that Rex had wanted more than Racer Motors and an amateur mechanic best friend could give him. In his memories, Rex had always seemed so...content.

But maybe that was only because Sparky had always been content with the way things were...

“You’re going to see Rex, aren’t you?”

Sparky jumped violently, one knee slamming into the Mach Five’s door with a solid thump. He’d completely failed to notice Speed before. The kid was huddled into the passenger side of Rex’s car, arms locked about his knees. “Um,” he said, buying himself time, and leaned over to check the smooth metal to be sure his carelessness hadn’t left a dent. And so he wouldn’t have to meet the painful hope in Speed’s eyes.

He’d told his dad that Rex had sent him a ticket to Fuji. That was a complete lie. Rex hadn’t bothered to send him so much as a postcard since storming away from Racer Motors and signing with Uniron. But Sparky couldn’t stand the thought of having company this trip, and his father wouldn’t have let him go alone if he’d admitted Rex probably didn’t want to see him.

And he had let the Racers believe it was a vacation that had nothing to do with racing, something to get his mind off Rex, because they would ask too many questions if he even mentioned Fuji.

With two different false stories well prepared, Sparky could have lied to anyone else. But not to Speed, not looking at his own pain in the young face. “I’m going to try,” he told the boy after a moment, honestly. “But I don’t know if Rex will talk to me.”

“He’s got to,” Speed insisted, scooting to his knees on the seat to meet Sparky at something closer to eye-level. “I don’t know why Rex’s mad at us, but he can’t be mad at you. You weren’t even here.”

Nice interpretation; Sparky wished he could believe it. The guilt of being on the other side of the world when his best friend needed him still twisted unpleasantly in his gut. A few weeks visiting family in Australia, and everything had fallen apart here. He could only shake his head wearily, and repeat, “I don’t know, Speed.”

The kid looked down, and the key to the Mach Five clinked as he twisted it around his fingers. The Mach Five belonged to Speed now, but to the two of them it would always be Rex’s car. “I just--can you ask Rex for me why he’s mad? Tell him Pops is sorry? And we all want him to come home, we miss him. He won’t--I tried to send a letter, but--please tell Rex I love him, that’s all.”

Sparky ducked his head. He wanted desperately to convince Speed not to blame himself, but knew the boy would only accept that if it came from Rex. “I’ll tell him,” he promised instead, because there was nothing else to say. “If I find him, I’ll tell him.”

“Okay,” Speed breathed, and managed a smile, though his eyes were damp. “Have a safe trip, Sparky. You better go before Mom or Pops see you here.”

It was good advice, and Sparky took it, heading to the airport in plenty of time for his plane. The flight to Fuji was completely uneventful, allowing far too much time to think as

he drew nearer to a confrontation he knew he would never be ready for.

All the hotels catered to the race fans, the Helexicon being the major tourist event of the year for the little group of tropical islands. Even the cramped, musty inn Sparky had chosen as best suited to his small budget offered free transportation to the racetrack, though it was a crowded bus that stank of too many people in humid air.

He’d come up with a lot of plans for finding Rex, most of them stupid enough that even someone as young as Speed could have pointed out their flaws--but in the end it was as simple as recognizing the red Uniron transport when it arrived. Sparky scrambled to reach the entrance gate before the car, and Rex, were lost to the confusion of the track.

Rex was not such a well-known driver that reporters paid him much attention, not when there were so many other and more notable celebrities about. Once the race officials let the car enter, no one was around but two burly men in coveralls with the Uniron logo splashed across them. Sparky would have preferred to have Rex’s new mechanics out of earshot for this, but there wasn’t going to be a better chance. He wiped sweaty palms on his jeans and hurried forward.

From a distance Rex had looked exactly the way Sparky remembered him; closer, the tension in his clenched jaw was harder and colder than the excitement Sparky had always shared with him before a race. “Rex!” he called, voice not so confident as he would have liked.

He’d imagined about a hundred different reactions Rex might have to seeing him so unexpectedly, but none of them had included the flicker of sheer panic. It was gone almost at once, but Sparky knew Rex too well to miss it.

The contempt that replaced it was even worse. “Sparkolomew,” Rex sneered, and there was no welcome in the tone at all. “Come to sneak a look at a proper car, for once?” The Uniron mechanics snickered appreciatively.

Sparky faltered. Even with all he’d heard about the bitter argument, he hadn’t expected this from his best friend. “You always loved the Mach Four!” he protested defensively. Pops Racer had done the actual design work, but Sparky couldn’t help feeling a certain proprietary interest after all the times he’d helped get the car ready for the track and repair it afterward.

“You thought we were really friends, didn’t you?” Rex laughed. It was a harsh, cruel sound, and Sparky had never heard anything like it from Rex before, not even aimed at the worst schoolyard bullies and idiot drivers, the ones he knew Rex hated. “I only needed a half-decent mechanic to back me up, and you worked for scraps of praise--cheapest I could find. I don’t need you anymore, you or those junk-heaps my old man builds. I have a real team now.”

The malice in Rex’s voice cut through all Sparky’s good intentions, and curled bitter on his tongue. “Speed wants to know what he did to make you angry enough to leave,” he spat. “Maybe he ought to be asking what he did to be stuck with a brother like you in the first place.”

It was fury and pain that flung the words like weapons, and Sparky saw them strike home in Rex’s almost imperceptible flinch. But there was none of the reaction he’d hoped for, no denials, no sign of the Rex Sparky knew. “Run on home, Sparkolomew,” Rex said, cold and distant as to a complete stranger.

The car accelerated past him. The closer mechanic took the opportunity to shove him, smirking as Sparky stumbled backward and fell with a bruising thump on the pavement.

Then they were gone, and Sparky was alone with his wounded pride, breathless and definitely not close to tears.

For a long moment, going back to the cheap hotel with its water-stained wallpaper and mold on the ceiling was infinitely more tempting than staying to watch the best friend he’d apparently never known. In the end, though, he stayed. This was the Fuji Helexicon, one of the races he’d always promised himself he’d see in person someday, and he’d already spent his savings on the nonrefundable ticket. If Rex had torn apart the last five years of his life, well, at least there was a race to watch.

He would have to tell Speed something. I couldn’t find Rex, Sparky rehearsed mentally. Sorry, Speed, the track was just too crowded, I couldn’t talk to him...I never found him. It didn’t feel like a lie. Their Rex, the older brother who Speed loved, would never have said those things.

Sparky’s eyes kept drifting toward Rex in spite of himself, as the cars lined up on the track. Something was wrong with the way Rex had acted, but nothing had been right since Rex left. If that kind of contempt had always been there, and he just hadn’t seen it--but how could he have missed it? For five years they’d spent virtually all their free time together, working on one or another of the cars Pops Racer had designed.

No, the change was too sudden, it had to be something about signing with Uniron that had caused it. Sparky tried to picture Rex falling in with the professional crowd, trying to fit in by renouncing his independent background...had Rex convinced himself what he’d claimed was true?

But Rex had never been one to follow a crowd. In high school as on the track, Rex had always insisted on going his own way--ahead of everyone else.

You were the cheapest I could find...the words still hurt, like shards of glass in his mind, coming to the surface again and again.

He didn’t want to watch Rex, but somehow his eyes still weren’t getting the message, because he couldn’t seem to look anywhere else. Rex was doing the usual pre-race checks, now his mechanics had left him to head up to the spotter box. And of course trained, professional mechanics would be better than Sparky was, but how was that his fault? He was still in high school, Rex had no right to expect--

Sparky frowned, the rhythm of his thoughts broken by an unexpected change in Rex’s actions. He knew the usual checks by heart, but Rex had pulled out a little box and plugged it under the seat. That was a Kwiksave diagnostic, and there was no reason for Rex to be running it. That was a mechanic’s job, to be sure the car was in perfect condition before the race. Rex should only need to check the settings, make sure the safety mechanism could take a few normal hits without ejecting him.

Rex had never once felt the need to run a Kwiksave diagnostic while Sparky was in charge of his car.

Which meant Rex didn’t trust his new mechanics, his trained mechanics, his real team.

There were probably other explanations, Sparky tried to convince himself while the engines revved below and the race began. And whatever the explanation was, Rex obviously didn’t want his help.

But five years of friendship didn’t vanish so easily under injured pride, and Sparky thought, If Rex can’t trust his mechanics, then he’s in danger.

The race itself only worried him more. Rex had always been an aggressive driver, but he had only scorn for anyone who refused to show the usual track courtesies--messy driving, he called it. But now, on two separate occasions, he saw Rex purposely drop back to ram someone he could just as easily have passed without incident. Neither of the opposing cars were destroyed, but both were off the track, badly damaged, and out of the race.

And for all the fury in his driving, although Sparky knew Rex could have caught the lead cars, in the final lap he dropped back to fifth place.

What’s going on, Rex? There had to be something he was missing, something that would make sense of all this.

But Rex didn’t want his help. He ought to go home, leave Rex to whatever business he’d gotten mixed up with, go home and help Speed forget about his brother.

Torn, Sparky lingered in the stands as the spectators filed out. Another confrontation like the first would only make things worse. Maybe it didn’t even matter, because he didn’t think he could find Rex again whether or not he wanted to.

Someone bumped into him from behind. “Sorry,” Sparky mumbled automatically--then froze as he felt a slip of paper pressed into his hand. He spun to find who had done it, but there were too many choices and whoever it had been vanished into the crowd.

He unfolded the paper curiously, and read it. Cryptic directions to wait half an hour in a specific room--unless you don’t want to speak to your friend. There was no signature, only an additional scribble, Destroy this note.

It was probably some sort of practical joke. But by the time this occurred to Sparky he had already found the room, a maintenance closet that had apparently been abandoned in favor of the larger storage space down the hall, and was occupied shredding the paper into its component molecules. He had to know what was going on. Even if this was just so Rex could laugh at him again, he had to know.

The note had said half an hour, but according to the clock on the wall it was only about twenty minutes before he heard Rex’s voice in the hallway, an urgent hiss. “What do you think you’re doing, Helen? This isn’t safe--”

“No, it isn’t,” a girl responded sharply, “so shut up.”

Sparky opened the door without thinking. Rex stood just outside, changed out of his driver’s uniform into a T-shirt bearing a large Uniron brand. The person beside him might have been either gender except for her voice and name, a slender, dark-skinned individual whose loose clothes and short hair gave no definite clues. But she smiled at Sparky, and somehow he felt better for it.

He met Rex’s gaze with trepidation. Was this Rex, or was it the stranger who’d spat venom at him? How well had he really known his best friend?

But the look in Rex’s eyes made Sparky think of a rabbit sitting on the racetrack, just as it noticed the noise of approaching cars, and worry took precedent over the anger. “What’s going on, Rex?” he asked, with honest concern.

“You have about ten minutes,” the black girl said briskly. “Talk in there, no one will hear you. I’ll keep watch.” She shooed them both into the little room and shut the door.

Sparky blinked after her. “So you’ve got a girlfriend now?” he wondered aloud.

“Don’t be an idiot, I hardly know her,” Rex replied, and the irritation was so familiar that Sparky grinned. Rex had never liked being teased about the many girls who found him highly attractive. Whatever had happened, this was Rex, and the knowledge settled the worst of the sharp-edged pain.

Ten minutes wasn’t much time for explanations. “Whatever you’re doing, let me come with you,” Sparky said abruptly, because it was more important.

Rex’s eyes went wide and guilt-stricken. “I--Sparky--what I said--”

“You didn’t mean it,” and it surprised Sparky a little how certain he was of that. “I saw you checking the Kwiksave, you don’t trust your mechanics, you need someone you can trust.” The thought of Rex driving a T-180 checked by someone incompetent, or worse, actively malicious, bit into Sparky’s gut like acid. “Let me help.”

The stunned gratitude in Rex’s face warmed Sparky, though Rex shook his head almost at once and said, “You can’t. This is something I need to do alone.”

“You can’t tell me what you’re doing, can you?” He already knew the answer to the wistful question before Rex slowly shook his head again.

“This can’t last long.” Rex said it like a prayer. “I’ll come home...eventually. But someone’s got to watch out for Speed, and I can’t do it. That’s what I need you to do, Sparky, for me. Look after the family. Please.”

Sparky swallowed. “Just be careful,” he managed, through a dry mouth. “We all want you home. It’s you that Speed loves, and your parents. I can’t take your place.”

“When it’s safe, I’ll come home,” Rex promised.

If Rex was really leaving, cutting off all contact, the family wouldn’t hear from him at all-- “What am I going to tell Speed?” Sparky panicked aloud. “He made me promise to ask why you were mad at them, ask you to come home...” The thought of disappointing the child was additional pain.

Rex grimaced. “Tell him my contract says I can’t talk to my old team, and I can’t get out of it. Tell him that I want to come home and I will as soon as I can.”

It was a good solution, tailored to Speed’s worries. It would go a long way toward making the horrible situation a little more bearable for Speed. Sparky wondered how true the explanation was, but he didn’t say anything, because he knew there was more to the message.

The faint whisper of a sigh. “Tell Speed I love him,” Rex added, quietly. “And thank you, Sparky. For finding me.” He offered his right hand.

Secret handshakes had been the coolest thing ever for a brief period while they were in school, but the stage had passed and Sparky hadn’t thought about their secret handshake in years. Somehow it seemed the most fitting symbol right now, though. Always friends. Sparky made the requisite four changes in grip and one twist smoothly enough they might have been burned into his muscles, and Rex matched him.

“So...who is Helen?” Sparky wanted to know. For someone Rex hardly knew, it was strange behavior.

Rex shrugged. “She’s helped me out. I guess I trust her.” It was more of a grudging admission than any sort of compliment. But the reminder made Rex glance at the time. “I should get back or they’ll wonder where I am.”

Reluctantly, Sparky opened the door. “Be careful,” he ordered Rex again. “Stay safe.” As though it would do any good. People didn’t climb into T-180s because they were disposed not to take risks.

A gentle clap on the shoulder, the gesture Sparky knew to mean I can’t promise, but I’ll try.

Then Rex was gone, hurrying down the corridor past where Helen leaned casually against a wall. If they said anything to each other, Sparky couldn’t tell.

Helen approached him then, and Sparky didn’t especially want to face the compassion in her eyes. But she only said, “You should wait another few minutes before you leave.”

Sparky nodded, because it made sense, if they didn’t want anyone to realize he and Rex had spoken. “Thank you,” he said. There ought to be more, what she’d done was priceless to him, but he had no other words to express it.

The girl ducked her head slightly. “He shouldn’t have to lose you all,” she said. “But you can’t contact him again.”

“I know.” It hurt, but he wouldn’t try, not if it would make things more dangerous for Rex.

“Listen--” she began, and stopped, and began again, “I’ll keep your friend safe. I promise you.”

Taken aback by the sudden intensity of the pledge, Sparky tried to find some sort of response, but before he could open his mouth she was down the hall in the opposite direction and out of sight.

He was abandoning Rex to danger and conspiracy, he had only the slimmest comfort to carry back to Speed, and it was against all reason that a promise from a complete stranger should make any difference at all. Yet somehow it did.

Present

Now Sparky leaned forward, until he realized he was staring at her and looked quickly away again. At a distance of more than ten years, he’d never made the connection. It was no wonder he hadn’t recognized her, she’d made an impressive effort to look unmemorable at Fuji.

He’d gone home and told Speed what he could, told no one else anything at all for fear of endangering Rex. After Blackjack Benelli had gone to trial, he’d been so hopeful that Rex would come back any day now--and then had come Casa Cristo.

For years afterward, he’d tried not to remember Helen, because it was too painful. Either she’d never meant her promise and wasn’t worth remembering, or she had failed somehow, and Sparky had the uncomfortable feeling that she would never have allowed Rex’s death if she’d been alive to prevent it. For someone he’d met so briefly, it was strange that the thought of her death bothered him so much.

But she’d kept Rex safe after all.

Sparky bit his cheek to keep himself from smiling too broadly. Never mind that it had been years ago, he didn’t like the thought of Mom and Pops realizing he’d lied to them. Which they would if he asked about it now.

When the transport finally arrived at the Racer residence, there was a great deal of confusion as everyone rushed into the house at once, eager to see Rex--an unfamiliar car was parked on the drive, and Sparky eyed it curiously.

In spite of this distraction, he managed to catch Elena alone for a moment as the family hurried in. “You were Helen, weren’t you,” he said.

Her skin tone was dark enough to hide any flush, but she dipped her eyes in mild embarrassment. “If you could, ah, not mention that to the Inspector,” she said. “I wasn’t supposed to take risks like that, and I didn’t include quite everything in that particular report.”

“As long as you don’t mention it to your parents-in-law,” he returned, with a grin, “they didn’t know I went to Fuji.” Then more seriously, “I just wanted to say--thanks. For that, and for keeping him alive.” The guilt in her eyes hadn’t faded yet, so Sparky thought she could do with a bit more appreciation. Rex was alive, that was what mattered now.

Her nod was a little uncomfortable, so Sparky let it drop and headed in after everyone else. The Racers were good at adopting people, so there’d be plenty more chances to chase away that look of guilt.

Sparky smiled to himself, full of cheerful plans for teasing Rex about the not-girlfriend he’d married. He couldn’t think of a better way to welcome his friend home.

end part three

Belated author's note--forgot to add this when I posted the chapter the first time. Credit to bean15 for saying Sparky needed more attention, which is where the idea for this chapter began, and also for providing Sparky's full name, which I certainly wouldn't have come up with on my own. Thank you, bean15! Hope you continue your own Sparky story!