Chapter Eleven

They finally climb out of the shower, leaving foot-shaped puddles on the floor as they retrieve the scratchy, stained towels folded on the back of the toilet. And they very carefully avoid eye contact as they rub at their skin, trying to bring some warmth back into their chilled bodies.

Reid buttons himself back into his filthy jeans; Nate turns his socks inside out in a futile attempt to put something marginally clean against his skin. The moment for exposure and vulnerability has passed, but it doesn't feel awkward.

And it's still quiet between them, but not the uncomfortable kind. Something was wrung out of them in that shower, the last vestiges of pretense that this is just a professional arrangement, that there isn't something much more than that slowly simmering in the air between them. There's an understanding now; they're no longer two separate individuals on either side of the room. They're becoming a whole, a team, a composite of the road and burger grease and one another.

And it doesn't matter that Reid still doesn't know what happened to Nate in the shower. He suspects he never really will, that Nate will always remain largely a mystery. He's a private person who holds a lot inside.

But that's okay. Reid likes him just the way he is.

*******

They don't get any sleep after that, though they try - tossing and sighing on the separate but equally uncomfortable beds for over an hour before giving up and checking out (and for once, Reid's thankful that they're in the kind of place that charges by the hour) and getting back on the road. They meander southeast this time, for no better reason than the fact that 163E is the first road out of town that Reid likes the look of.

It's virtually empty and the night is beautiful - clear black and sparkling with so many stars. Reid keeps leaning over the wheel so he can sneak glances at the sky, Nate's fingers curling into the door handle so hard that his knuckles bleach every time Reid looks away from the road for too long.

Even the electronic voice from his phone sounds nervous.

"I can drive for a bit, you know."

Reid raises an eyebrow, stares across the front seat at Nate for so long that Nate has no idea how the car is staying between the lines. "Nobody drives my baby but me."

Nate clenches his teeth, eyes frantically searching the road in front of them for potential hazards. "Then maybe you could, I don't know, actually drive her and stop looking everywhere except where you're going."

Reid scoffs. "I'm a former car thief who's been trained by the government in precision driving. You're perfectly safe."

"I don't feel safe."

"No? Let's see what I can do about that."

Reid smiles, wicked, and floors it.

*******

They make it across the Mississippi River and into western Illinois in what has to be some sort of land speed record. And Nate would never admit this, but he actually started to enjoy careening through the dark with Reid, seeing nothing but the blurs of tree branches flying past at the furthest reaches of the headlights' beam, Reid's features glowing faintly green from the dash lights.

But the river is beautiful and Reid is starting to feel the fatigue creeping into his bones, so they stop. There's a small, empty parking lot under a bridge next to the river and Reid faces the car away from whatever small farm town they were driving through, giving them a perfect view of the slowly lightening sky and the shimmer of the stars on the river's ripples.

Reid keeps the radio on low and the windows down, a sappy Three Dog Night song accompanying them as he digs a blanket out of the Camaro's trunk and they boost themselves up on the hood. They settle in against the windshield, the angle perfect to take in both the sky and the river, the fleece soft and warm across their laps as they watch the ever-brightening colors of the sunrise reflect off the water.

They're silent for a long time, sitting so still that Nate thinks Reid must have drifted off. But then he speaks, husky and hushed in the darkness.

"Don't worry, Nate. I'm going to get you to that trial."

Nathaniel can hear the exhaustion in Reid's voice and he should probably just leave it at that until after they've slept, but he still has no idea where they're headed or what Reid's planning to do.

"I don't see how that's realistic, Reid. What are we going to do? Pick another town, rent another apartment, scrounge together some money with under-the-table jobs where they don't ask for things like ID?"

Reid shakes his head emphatically and shifts his weight until the metal of the hood groans, Nate gathering the blanket in closer around them. Their toes touch when their legs straighten back out; neither one moves.

"No. I was thinking - one of the biggest problems we face in Witness Protection is making people fit into places where they clearly don't. I mean, we always relocate people to places where they don't have any ties - no job, no family, no friends. So they inevitably stick out, because their accent doesn't match and they can't answer questions about their childhood or college or whatever. Plus, the longer anyone stays in one place, the greater the chance that someone is going to pay attention to them, that they end up in the system in some way, that they're traceable. So the real question is, how do we become invisible, even though we don't fit in?"

Nate is still for a long moment before finally shaking his head.

"Tourists, Nate. They stick out like sock-and-sandal-wearing, fanny-pack-loving sore thumbs, but no one gives them a second glance. We become tourists. Just keep traveling, pay cash for hotel rooms under fake names, see the country." He shrugs, the enthusiasm draining out of his voice a bit as he continues, "We've got a month before your deposition, which will, admittedly, be tricky to get in and out of. Your family will know exactly where you're going to be and when."

Reid flicks his eyes at Nate, sees him starting to pick at his cuticles. It's a nervous habit, one Reid has already made it his mission to stop. So he brightens back up as he finishes, "But if we get through that we're golden - just waiting for April 5th to get here."

April 5th. The day the trial was scheduled to begin, the day Nate will face his family across a courtroom and lay their atrocities bare for the world to judge. It's nearly eight months away, and Nate thinks about spending all that time touring the country, Reid ever-present at his side.

It's not exactly an unpleasant thought.

"You're going to stay with me the whole time? Don't you have to go back to work?"

"Special circumstances, protecting an extremely valuable and high-risk target. Until we get the Angelevs - all the ones that aren't you, anyway - safely behind bars, you are my work."

And Reid makes the mistake of looking over at Nate again, this time getting caught in that crazy tractor-beam stare he has. The one that makes Reid feel like he really is capable of pulling this off, of doing anything Nate needs him to do, because he couldn't bear it if that look ever lost faith in him.

He shakes it off, clears his throat. "So think about it. What have you always wanted to see? We've got the better part of a year to kill. Might as well scratch a few items off that bucket list."

The birds are beginning to sing, the sky a faint pink blushing across the water. Reid yawns, huge, his whole body seeming to suddenly collapse with exhaustion. So he slides off the hood, pulls his jacket tighter around himself. "I'm beat; gonna see if I can get some shut-eye in the backseat."

Nate wraps the blanket tighter around himself, suddenly colder.

"Goodnight, Reid."

Reid clambers into the car and stretches out, asleep almost immediately.

Nate stays outside until the sun climbs into the sky, a burning golden ball that glints blindingly off the traffic that's beginning to build on the bridge. His thoughts are circling, caught on that phrase. Bucket list.

As in, things to do when you're getting ready to die.

He shivers, and it's got nothing to do with the chill in the air.