Based on season 4, episodes 25 & 26 - "To Hell and Back"
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Derek stopped the moment the headlights flickered on, his gaze caught by the shine of the black Range Rover parked against the far wall. It was large and quiet, its surface freshly painted, the body sharper than the one that used to sit in its place. For a moment, he could almost believe it was the same car, bought back to life. "That is one hell of a car, Beaumont," he exclaimed, rubbing his palms together, a low whistle slipping out before he could stop it.
Eleanor stood beside him, her fingers locked around her keys as though she were holding something breakable. Her body was already tensing at the thought of motion, of narrow roads and sudden turns, of headlights in the rearview mirror that weren't supposed to be there. Her throat felt dry as she imagined turning the ignition, the mechanical sound filling the silence.
Derek glanced over at her, smiling, but her face was pale, eyes fixed on the vehicle like she was facing a ghost. "You okay?" he asked, the light tone fading as he watched her expression.
Her fingers tightened around the keys until they pressed marks into her skin, her breath held shallow somewhere in her chest. Derek lingered beside her, watching her stare at the car like it was something unpredictable. "Want me to drive you to a parking lot or something?" he offered after a moment, careful not sound like he was teasing her.
She turned to him briefly and shook her head. "It's okay. I should do it myself."
Then she went still again, rooted in front of the car as though her body couldn't translate decision into motion. Even Spencer had been keeping his distance from it, although he refused to come close to his own car unless he must. "You can do it," silence broke out from his voice, his hand settling on her shoulder for support. She turned slightly to the touch, the nodded briefly like an agreement made with herself more than with him. Then, she reached for the handle and eased herself into the driver's seat, letting the car accept her as if some covenant had been renewed between metal and will.
Derek climbed into the passenger's seat, still watching her carefully, gauging the stiffness in her shoulders and the way her hands hovered just above the steering wheel as it might burn her. The engine came alive with a low hum, and she exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around the wheel, the pulse in her wrist visible where the veins met the light.
The car rolled forward hesitantly, Eleanor's foot pressing too lightly on the gas at first, then correcting itself. The exit from the underground parking lot felt endless, every turn of the wheel seemed like a test of her own steadiness. When they reached the street, the city appeared almost foreign to her: too bright, too much movement she couldn't predict.
The first few turns felt like walking a tightrope. The car moved cautiously through the street, the weight of it unfamiliar under her hands. Derek sat angled towards her, his elbow resting on the console, eyes flickering to her ever so often. "Alright," he said, guiding her through another intersection. "We'll take a slow loop around. No rush."
