Breathe in

"Love You"s and City Lights

Keith parked his hoverbike in a driveway, checking the address he'd written down after a quick search in the public library. Yeah. He was here. Katie's house. Mrs. Holt's house. He let out a deep breath as he walked up to the door, his finger hovering near the doorbell. He stared at it.

I can't do this.

He couldn't show up here, after he'd failed. After he'd given up, after he'd let himself be expelled from the Garrison. He couldn't show up and look them in the eye, Katie and Mrs. Holt, who had also lost someone- twosomeone's, in fact- but hadn't given up like he had.

Keith's hand dropped down, and he walked back to the bike, glancing down the street. Garrison jeeps were driving down the road.

They're coming for me.

He didn't know how he knew, but he hadn't gotten this far by ignoring his instincts. He got on the bike, quickly, and roared down the street. He saw them coming towards him, and he nodded, his mouth set in a firm line.

I can lose them if I can get to the desert, easy. They don't know it like I do.

He roared outside of the city limits, kicking up desert sands. I can go to my house, once I lose them. He frowned as another thought hit him. They'll keep looking, though. They'll go searching through the desert until they find me. How am I supposed to stop them?

Keith whipped through the desert, the Garrison jeeps far behind. What if they thought I was dead? No use looking for a dead man.

Keith looked up ahead. The rock formations were nearby. Perfect. He grabbed his duffle bag with one hand, steering the bike with the other. He aimed right for a rock and kicked up the speed.

Three... two... one!

Keith leapt from the bike, his left ankle twisting awkwardly on landing. He staggered to his knees with a groan, clutching his ankle, watching as his bike, his present from Shiro, the only thing left of him, went careening into a rock formation.

The shockwave from the resulting explosion sent him flying backwards into another rock, and he blacked out for a second. When the world reasserted itself, he was lying on his stomach, his cheek pressed to the sand. His ears were ringing. Keith pushed himself up, blinking at his surroundings.

Nearby, the bike, the beautiful grey bike, was burning, completely destroyed beyond all repair. Keith stumbled towards it, his left ankle sending shoots of pain up his leg every time he put weight on it. His chest hurt, too, and even his inhaler wasn't helping.

Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear the hum of the Garrison jeeps, and his sluggish mind struggled to come up with a plan. They needed to really think that he was dead- the crash wouldn't cut it. He had to leave something behind- something that they would think he couldn't live without.

His eyes traveled to his inhaler. No. Too dangerous. If I have an attack, no one can find me. I might actually die.

But that's why it'll be convincing.

This is a bad idea. This is a very, very bad idea.

Keith tossed his inhaler onto the burning bike, watching the plastic melt. Well, this is going to be fantastic.

The hum of the jeeps got louder, and Keith limped away, his breath rasping in his chest.

I really hope that's a side effect of the crash, and not the asthma.

Xxx

Iverson got out of a jeep, the rest of the search team surrounding the wreckage of the bike. "Sir, we... we don't know..."