EDIT: Fixed some spelling errors and a duplicate sentence. Sorry for missing that the first few times around!

A/N: Second chapter! Woot! This one is a bit shorter than the first, but... eh, I don't really care. It's chapter two!

Again, Rod Redline and Finn McMissile belong to Disney.

Cadence Wheeler belongs to me. Don't steal.

EDIT: I'm super sorry about the lack of a chapter this weekend. School just... didn't allow that to happen. I AM working on a new chapter. I promise. But I am currently swamped with homework and a project for All Hallows Eve (in other words, Halloween, I just think All Hallows Eve is cooler). The chapter is not put on hold. It is simply taking longer. Thank you for your patience! -Sapph

Finn recognized that look the moment he saw it on Rod's facial features. It was that panicked look of one who suddenly fears for their lives. But Torque had training, and that training was so ingrained into his being that it took over under certain circumstances, like when you suddenly fear for your safety.

It was the British spy's own training that gave him enough time to shove Ms. Wheeler out of the way with a quick rev of his engine before Torque's engine snarled and launched him forward towards the light blue Aston Martin DB5. The attack was weak, considering Redline's still badly injured state. But it was an attack none the less, and the strike of the American agent's hood against his side stung.

Ms. Wheeler had reversed in surprise, springing backwards like a cat from water. Good thing, too. It gave Finn a little more room to handle Rod. The muscle car had reversed, a painful grinding coming from his undercarriage which made Finn want to just cringe, and now Rod was tilting towards the opening that the Aston Martin had created by moving the Nissan to the side.

"Rod, please!" Finn called out, throwing himself into reverse to block the out of control muscle car. Another hard hit to his rear end, and it sent both blue cars spinning around wildly. Finn felt himself whip around, back end crashing into the closed door of the hospital room, firmly closing it, his front end still skidding a bit to ram into a counter top. He watched as Rod lost control as he rammed the light blue car, and he skidded sideways to hit the monitoring equipment the Mustang/Challenger had been hooked up to with his side, completely broadsiding it all. There was a heavy crash, the sound of crunching metal, and chaos.

Rod had blacked out shortly after. The strain on his crippled engine—which it was surprising he was evening running at all, with oil constantly leaking into the combustion chambers and everything—and tacking onto that the sheer pain from everything, which was encompassing more than what the painkillers were meant to keep at bay… it made sense the American spy would succumb to his injuries.

He woke some time later; apparently a long time later if the darkness outside the window was anything to judge by. He had been moved, again, so he was resting on the bed, so low his undercarriage was pressed against the soft firmness of the cot. The Nissan was elsewhere, not in the room at least. The Aston Martin, though… he was still in here, resting back a little ways away from Rod, and close to the door, but not enough to seem as though he were blocking an escape.

McMissile seemed to have been dozing, by his reaction of lazily blinking his windshield and turning his hood more towards Rod as the muscle car blinked himself awake, feeling all the various aches and pains in his body increase tenfold as he attempted to shift forward, seeing if he could chance escape. Either McMissile was extremely keen—which Rod would not put past the older British spy—or it was the whining keen of his engine as he attempted to start it up to pull forward out of the hospital room that set Finn on alert to his wakefulness.

"I would not try that," the Aston Martin advised, and the Mustang/Challenger knew he was referring to escaping. "The hospital has not been very happy having you as a guest, and another escape attempt will only get you in more trouble."

Rod did not look convinced.

"Easy now, old chap. You've got to remember; we aren't here to hurt you. I know that you've been through a lot, but I'm not going to threaten you or hurt you," Finn responded gently to the American agent's concern.

Rod continued to look suspicious. But he settled back on his tires after a long moment contemplating his options. He didn't stand a chance against McMissile anyway if he did chance an escape. The car was in MUCH better shape than he was.

"So, if you're a friend, why am I not fixed, yet?" Rod questioned firmly, attempting to sound in control, even if he wasn't in the slightest. Fake it till you make it.

"The operation is a dangerous one. Replacing as much as there is to replace within you. There is a lot of damage, and we needed your permission to continue. The doctors did what they could to get you into working order enough to come out of the coma you fell into. We were all concerned you might not pull through when we found you on that torture device."

Despite Finn's gentle tone and the concern that he evidently took in the slightly younger muscle car, the simple fact that he mentioned Rod's torture sent him in reverse, despite the pain it caused him, fear once more showing in his eyes for the split second it was before he closed them, hiding those light blue-gray eyes from the world, and McMissile's searching, worried look.

"Rod, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—it's alright. You are safe. Those lemons won't hurt you again." Finn tried to pull forward cautiously, ever aware of Torque's high self-defense instincts right now. Rod put a tire out to stop the British car where he sat parked.

"I'm fine. Really. You don't have to baby me. I get it. You have my permission to proceed with the operation. I know it's risky but I can't live like this. I can't work like this and I'm not backing out of the program just because I got a little banged up." The Mustang/Challenger mix seemed firm and unyielding. His tone was sharp, defensive, despite what he would like to think, and he was obviously still troubled. He held himself close, tires wide-spread and defensive. Rod's eyes had snapped open again, but behind the annoyance was still what Finn could identify as fear.

"Are you sure you're-?" But it was no use. Rod plowed right on over the Aston Martin.

"Where's Cadence?" He asked abruptly, his hood turning this way and that as he looked around for the Nissan GT-R.

"She's resting. I told her to take a break and head back to the hotel and I would sit here and wait for you to wake up."

Rod grunted his acknowledgement of the answer and that was that.

"Sorry about... you know, ramming you..." The apology was entirely unexpected, and Finn blinked, turning his hood to look at the American agent, windshield lifted with surprise. Rod's expression turned from embarrassed to annoyed faster than you could say 'Cheerio!'. "Don't look at me like that!" He snapped.

Finn smiled with undue patience that welled up from who-knew-where. That kind of smile almost annoyed Rod. He wished there was something he could say that would get under the old British car's hood. And again, it astounded him how much he had turned into a sour, unpleasant lemon. The thought was unsettling and he disliked it immensely.

"-thing of it."

"What?" Rod blinked, pulling out of his thoughts and looking back at McMissile.

"I said think nothing of it," the Aston Martin repeated with that genial, warm smile of his that was so disarming.

"Uh... thanks..." Rod murmured.

A/N: SO, what do you all think about this story so far? Please give comments and critique! Thanks!