Chapter Text
Boston, Massachusetts
“Hey, Ross? You got a full tank of gas? Can you give me a ride back to Langley?” Val joined Everett again, catching up to him as he slipped something into his pocket.
“Well, it’s…it’s an eight hour drive.” He stumbled, but walked with her towards his car.
“Yeah. We can talk about the case. Actually I wouldn't mind…apologizing to you for a couple things I said during our marriage.” Her voice dipped, chin down, slightly defeated.
—
Everett’s head whipped towards Val, too busy processing the fact she wanted to apologize before he could think of something else to say. Any excuse that gave himself enough time to open a flight app and book her a plane ticket out of Logan. Some alternative to stop himself from watching her pry open the passenger side door and hoist herself into his rental car.
Too late , he sighed, mirroring her motions on the driver’s side.
“Thank you.” Val seemed genuine, at least, but didn’t quite acknowledge his presence as she closed the door and squinted out of the tinted windows towards her shrinking security.
“I needed a break from all those guys.” She sighed.
“I bet.” He’s curt, and knows enough not to ask her more questions.
She needed a break, and he didn’t get one. It’s the perfect setup for an insufferable, substitute nine to five, which could be tolerable if he imagined his mysteriously high volume of paperwork redistributed to an intern. If he continued addressing her professionally, and didn’t let her crack him, except– fuck . Her perfume was already seeping its way through the car, masking the faded air freshener. Subtle florals mixed with her fresh-off-a-two-week-tropical-vacation lotion. He’s surprised she hasn’t changed the brand in ten years. Better yet, he’s sure it was on purpose.
Focus, Ross, focus. She’s your boss today, not your wife. Ex-wife.
“Yup.” He coughed and started the car.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Of course, Director.”
Besides the dirty look when he addressed her with a title again, Val certainly seemed to be making herself comfortable in his peripheral vision. She threw her purse, shed her jacket, kicked her heels off under the dashboard and peeled her gloves back, placed them into her lap while she dug for her phone. It’s almost childish, if she didn’t somehow cover the rest with a layer of grace and confidence. Maybe he just imagined one there, or it came with the promotion. Either way, his eyes are reserved for the road the rest of their trip.
After waiting for the click of her seatbelt, he drove them off like they were the ones calmly fleeing the scene of the crime on that bridge.
—
Somewhere in Connecticut
Val replied to emails and texts for hours while they drove in silence. Everett didn’t pry, but she imagined he was waiting for her to initiate the conversation she’d alluded to earlier. Where did she even start? Sorry I fucked us up and now it's over? It's nothing they hadn’t talked about in couples therapy, and it's not rocket science; she'd used this whole escapade as an excuse to get him to drive her back to Virginia.
Catching the welcome sign out of the corner of her eyes as they crossed state lines, Val clicked her phone off and broke the silence.
“I'm starving.” She let him know, flipping herself around in her seat mid-yawn so she could face him. Sharp, expectant eyes drilled into his temple and her cheek pressed against the warm black leather. A part of her imagined it as his shoulder, and if they hadn’t been separated by cupholders and plastic, it might have been. “I didn’t have time for breakfast.”
“I’ll stop at the next exit with a drive thru.” He agreed without taking his eyes off the road. Either he’d find it, or she’d map it without him saying anything else.
As suspected, there’s another long pause between them that’s extended by Valentina deciding what she wanted to eat. It probably gave Everett too much time to dwell on what she wanted to apologize for and why she kept pushing off. Not that he’d expect her to be out with it. She liked to let their conversations warm up, marinate for a while until she could drop her words into the fire and leave them there with him completely charred.
“Five Guys.” She insisted while zooming in on her phone.
“Excuse me?” He finally glanced towards her in the mirror. Idiot.
“The restaurant, Everett.” She rolled her eyes.
She could see his cheeks warming up at his mistake and how he hated that she used his first name to top it all off. A name for a name .
“They don’t have a drive thru.” He shook his head. If they sit down somewhere to eat, they’re doomed, nevermind that the next seven hours might actually kill one of them.
Val shifted in her seat again, facing the right mirror. She caught more fast food chains printed on a green sign. “Fine. Wendy’s, not McDonald’s, I’m supporting women owned businesses.”
“Wendy’s is owned by a man.”
“What?” She shuffled to face the dash, googled it, then frowned at her phone. “Well Todd just got added to the top 5 most wanted list.”
“Who’re the other four?” He joked, smirking as he adjusted the rear view mirror for the twelfth time.
“Funny.” She kept staring at her phone. “Just pick anywhere with a chicken sandwich that doesn’t hate us for existing.”
He drove up three more exits, scanning the signs until, well, Burger King seemed like the only safe option. Treading down a curvy road and straight into the drive thru, he prayed she didn’t try to extend their little pit stop.
“A royal with cheese and…?” He glanced toward her, double checking on the order he remembered from years ago.
“I’ll order.” She insisted, unbuckling her seatbelt. Leaning over him, she pressed a hand against his thigh to ‘balance’, and then raised her voice towards the machine.
“Hi, I’ll have an extra spicy BK Royal Crispy Chicken, large fry, strawberry shake…and he’ll have…”
He’s all too aware of her proximity, resisting the urge to stare down at her hand.
“Just an original—”
“Original chicken sandwich, double the fries, and oreo shake.”
“Anything else?” The machine echoed back in a younger woman’s voice.
“That’ll be all, thanks dear.”
Everett subtly released the breath he’d been holding when she removed her grip on his thigh. He pulled forward, paid for the food, and started handing Val the paper bags. She snatched them all and waved to the women behind the window. Everett left a tip and nodded, driving out of the parking lot once they'd gathered everything.
Not a second later, he felt a fry brush his bottom lip.
“Say ahhh.”
“You don't need to feed me—”
“It's safer.” She wiggled the fry again. “Eyes on the road.”
He didn’t feel like arguing so he opened his mouth and let her push it onto his tongue before he took his time to chew. She started with her sandwich, but mumbled through the last few bites.
“Remember when we used to stop by that park in New York and eat on the hood of our old silver cadillac?”
“Of course.” He nodded, sipping his shake when she lifted it up.
They were barely married back then, maybe a year or two. As a surprise for their anniversary, he drove with her for four hours and picked out the spot. It seemed like the perfect combination of his trees and her city, a view of the Statue of Liberty and all. He made her a little picnic with chicken salad sandwiches and pastries from their favorite cake shop, and he stole a few display flowers to put in her hair.
“I heard they closed it off to the public now. Something about dangerous wildlife, but I didn’t believe it. What’s there to get attacked by, a giant rat?” She snorted, shaking the box of fries.
“That’s too bad.” He stopped himself from saying ‘ or we would’ve stopped ’, knowing she’d take it as a challenge and he’s not in the mood to get yelled at by a park ranger.
“Yeah.” She finished her sandwich and offered him another bite of his, which he accepted without protest again.
Once all the food was gone, she crumbled up the bags into one another, shoving them in the center console. He refrained from commenting about it after he sipped the last of the shake. Not technically his car, not technically his problem. As long as she threw it away at their next stop.
He shoved the empty cup on top of the pile.
—
New York - New Jersey Line
The full tank of gas drained to a half, then just below a quarter, and Everett didn’t feel like risking another stretch of their drive for full service in New Jersey. Val had been texting for a while now and he assumed she was waiting for any updates about Boston.
“I need to stop for gas.” He glanced towards her, and then looked over the exit signs.
“Alright.” She looked up, clocked the gas meter, and pulled up her map app.
“The closest one’s off to the side up there. I’ll pump it if you run inside and grab a few things that I’m going to text you.”
“Oh, uh, sure.”
He felt his phone buzz in his pocket as he approached the gas station, rolling up to pump number five. Then handed her the keys, one of his credit cards, and pressed a button to open the gas cap before he got out. She tried to refuse the card.
“I’ll pay for it. I made you drive all this way, and it all goes back into the business travel expenses anyway.” Val insisted, but Everett left it in the center console anyway. She hopped out after him, circling around the car and watching him disappear inside.
Once she’s done throwing out the trash from their pit stop, Val considered going for a walk herself. If she timed the pump right and propped the latch correctly, it’d click just as she got back from the bathroom.
This gas station has one of the worst outdoor setups she’s ever seen, but she’s not going to make a fuss over it and ask Everett for a second stop somewhere ten minutes down the road. It takes a full lap until she finally found the ‘restroom’ sign, tucked away behind the truck stop.
After doing her business, she felt her phone buzz and checked her pockets for his text.
[ Text: Val ] Sour cream and onion for chips?
[ Text: Ev ] Yeah.
Just as she sent her reply, some commotion by one of the parked trucks caught her attention.
“What did you say to me?”
“I said your bills are fake!”
Without a second thought, Val walked over, crossed her arms, and interrupted the trucker. The woman he stood there questioning looked like she was somewhere in her early 40s.
“Is this man bothering you, cara?”
“Yeah, he's trying to rip me off!” Money scattered on the ground and the woman rubbed her wrist, spitting towards it.
“Looks like I just found myself a real discount.” Trucker man eyed Val up and down while she scowled back. Old, worn, she would clock him well into his 60s.
“Oh, you wish. I'm a woman of expensive taste.” She avoided his attempted physical advance, leaving him grasping air where her hand had been a moment prior. It now rested protectively on the other woman’s shoulder.
“How about I save you a night with a man below your league and your paygrade?” Val offered, reaching towards her pocket. "What's your name?"
"Chanel."
"Chanel, with one L?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, here's a nice check that'll last you about a month or more." Val wrote it out for a few thousand, tearing it out of her book and dropping it in the other woman's hand.
“Hey! I'm not done talking to both of you.” The man growled at them, looming too close for comfort.
“In case you missed the math, I just cut you out of the equation.” Val shooed at him, turning away and offering to walk Chanel in direction of the gas pumps. Hopefully the rental car didn’t leak over...
“Don't think so. I'm buying one of you ladies.” He advanced, this time catching Val’s shoulder. Not hard, but firm enough to piss her off. She whipped around and clocked him with her watch to his nose, and a knee between his own. It made him heel over and curse, backing away like a pathetic, wounded animal. All the way to inside the convenience store where she assumed he’d be going to need some ice.
“Be grateful I didn't break all your fucking fingers!” She yelled after him, swiveling around on her heels.
“Who are you?” Chanel gasped, backing up a few inches and then following Val.
“Let's just say I spent a lot of time learning MMA. Can we give you a lift somewhere?”
—
Everett caught half the scene out the window: Val taking out an old guy to the ground. Unbelievable , he couldn’t leave her for two fucking minutes without her starting something. He grabbed her bag of chips and candy bars, getting the fuck out of there before that guy associated them together. He found her with a random woman by the car.
“Everett, there he is! This is my new new friend, Chanel. We’re giving her a ride to the next bar over.” Val waved, donning her biggest amused, fake smile. Everett’s doing everything in his power to stay calm and make sure his expressions don’t betray him—too much.
“Hi, handsome.” Chanel gave a smaller wave before Val directed her in the back seat.
He curled his nose at the small gasoline puddle under the gas cap and followed Val to the passenger side of the car.
“No more fights, and no more hitchhikers.” He told her, gripping the handle of the door.
“Alright, relax, it’s just down the street.” She seemed unbothered in a way he envied, and that frustrated him all in one. “And technically , I hired her.”
“Let’s just get back to Langley in one piece, please .” He begged, opening the door for her. Val shuffled inside and closed it herself.
He watched her crawl into the back seat next to Chanel as he rounded to the driver's side. Seriously? Everett sighed, clenching and unclenching both of his fists, rolling his eyes before he got back behind the wheel. Both women were already chatting up a storm.
“Can I interest you ladies in some music?” He asked, thick on the sarcasm, and turned up the radio that’d been low for most of the car ride.
They carried on talking as he pulled back onto the highway, completely unbothered as the first song played out the rest of its chorus. Val shouted when she caught the title of the next song.
“Hey, it’s one of his favorites!”
Great , just what he needed, thanks Red Hot Chili Peppers .
“Hey oh, listen what I say, oh! I got your hey oh, now listen what I say oh—” Chanel started, dancing in her seat.
Val continued with some of the faster verses and Everett hated to admit he was still impressed she remembered them. Or that he’d missed her voice over the years. She carried a good tune, and it’s almost funny when she sang this low. It’s the first time during the car ride she managed to crack his expression and even gets him to echo some of the lyrics—
“—Deep beneath the cover of another perfect wonder, where it's so white as snow.”
“ Yeahhh! ” Chanel whistled towards him.
The three of them sang the last few verses together until Everett parked at the bar.
When Chanel finally got out of the car, Everett decided it was better not to get into it more with Val, like half the things on this trip. He gave Chanel a curt wave. Val slipped back into the passenger side after giving the other woman a hug.
Just the two of them, once again.
—
Pennsylvania
Val drifted asleep at some point between Philadelphia and Baltimore. Everett didn't dare nudge her awake, even with her phone lighting up a mile a minute in the center console. Sure, she'd kill him for it later, but who else was around these days to make sure she didn't work herself to death?
He knew a majority of those messages pertained to work, anyway, but a part of him still wanted to check…who did she put that little heart next to in her contacts? It's stupid, he knows, why should he care? It's not like they'd been together (properly...) for a decade. Of course she would've moved on.
Look at her .
It's been so long since he'd watched her sleep, he realized.
Is that creepy? A little, but...
He couldn't help catch the way her purple streak stuck to the window, and her lips slightly parted.
A horn suddenly honked at them, and he swerved back into his lane, pressing on the breaks. Val jolted awake, and physically towards the dash.
“Shit!”
“What the hell was that?” She glaring at him.
“He came out of nowhere!” Everett gasped, white knuckled from gripping the steering wheel so tight.
“Insurance doesn’t cover dying from a head on collision. Jesus Christ, Everett.” She relaxed back into her seat and reached for her phone, going silent on him again as she caught up with her messages.
Part of him hated that he fell into the less-interesting-than-a-1k-glass-screen category for a good portion of this trip. Another part of him was glad she didn't make any long speeches, and hoped they’d still get back without a real fight.
“At least you didn't get pulled over yet like Erik.” She snorted, flashing a message towards him.
“What?”
Ah, the new guy?
“My driver.”
Thank god. Wait. Why is he happy?
“He just got a speeding ticket for going over. Three hundred dollars.” Val shook her head, swiping the message away. “Tsk, tsk.”
“Yeah, well, I’m going the speed limit.”
And not a mile under for the next two hours.
—
DMV (DC-Maryland-Virginia)
Val rolled her pair of gloves between her palms, glancing at one of the road signs and seeing they were finally in Maryland, crossing towards a small section of DC and into Virginia.
“Hey, listen, before we get there, about what I mentioned back on the bridge…”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
He really didn't want to open that can of worms when he'd been bracing himself for this last hour.
“No, I do. I was an ass in therapy and the courtroom. You didn’t deserve all that.”
A pause, waiting to see if he’d let her continue, but he doesn’t say anything.
“I lashed out, I got too personal at work...”
If only he knew just how personal work had gotten for her, beyond them; but that was half the problem, right? She’d refused to tell him, and he couldn’t take it anymore. She looked down at her lap and then back over at him.
“You know, if it wasn’t for all that bullshit towards the end, and then half the population disappearing, sometimes I think we would've made it at least a couple more years. I mean, we had a great life, right?”
He said nothing again, mocking concentration, and she tilted her head towards him.
“Right?”
“Uh, yeah.” He glanced towards her and quickly back at the highway.
“Other than you making me do all that hiking.”
He blinked, raising a brow on the side where she could see it.
“I…I thought you liked hiking.”
“God, no. I just liked how you looked afterwards, so I put up with it.”
Of course she hadn’t been honest about things like that either. Did he even know anything about her at all? Very little, he started to realize, once she was out of their house…
“So we still would've had the same problems.”
“What? That I protected your feelings?”
“That you swerve around the truth, V–” He clenched his teeth together, still refusing to say her name.
Val found some triumph in that, hiding her smirk with the cross of her arms and rolling her eyes.
“We’re spies, Everett, it comes with the job.”
“It didn’t have to come with our marriage .”
She wanted to tell him off so badly, but she promised him she’d apologize.
“You’re right. It didn’t–” her phone started ringing, “-sorry.”
There’s a long pause before it rang again and she considered picking it up.
“I have to take this.”
Half tactic, half genuine. Isn’t that how she’d always been? He waved it off.
“Ballistics found slugs all over Cambridge...”
He's jealous of how seamless she made it, always has been, and knows exactly why she ended up at the top of the agency in less than a decade. That cold, hard switch of tone and stark professionalism as they parked in front of Langley.
Then he received his own call, feeling the beads he’d almost forgotten about ring in his pockets. Following up with Wakanda would be a welcome distraction, and the over-endearing phone call to his “honey sweetheart” would have to do for now to get her worked up and out of the car.
He drove away before he could watch her strut down the walkway—energized by their journey, he imagined, while he tried not to give into exhaustion. Out of sight, out of mind until tomorrow.
If only he could find a single bone in his body willing to actually forget her.