Chapter Text
The sun sets faster than he was expecting it to, dipping below the mountains and taking its light with it. The sky deepens from orange to indigo, and Sugar feels a strangeness settle into the air with the steady disappearance of the light. He had been expecting things to be different after everyone left, sure, but he hadn’t predicted that it would set in so fast, that he’d feel their absence so suddenly, as quick and sharp as a knife. It’s just him and Henry now, alone with the humans.
The thought makes his stomach lurch as he pulls the Corvette out onto the street; the tires kicking up one last final dust cloud as the wheels drop off the dirt road and onto the poured pavement. There’s more distance between himself and the hanger now, the finality of his choice settling in, real and heavy. It’s the right choice he knows— and it was a guarantee to lose someone either way, something it seems like he’ll never stop doing— but it still feels strange.
But he can’t think about that now; he needs to plan his next steps, to figure out what comes next. The humans— the ones that know about them— don’t know yet that he stayed behind. ‘They’re hunting us,’ Ruby had said. She’d assured them that everyone from their cell would be off planet by sunset; they shouldn’t know that he and Henry are still here, though he has his suspicions that they’ll still be looking.
Information leaked to the press about Ryan and his extracurriculars; unavoidable really, after the gun had been fired. The police were sure to keep it as swept under the rug as they’d be able too, though, given the celebrity of the deceased. But Sugar doubts that it’ll matter much, as Ruby had pointed out. Pavich exposed, their people’s delicate treaty destroyed in exchange. It wouldn’t be surprising if they wanted revenge, if they didn’t take Ruby at her word and used every resource available to them to try and get payback. Regardless, that gives him some time— a little room to plan things out and decide his next move before they figure it out.
He feels an aching longing to go back to the Del Corazon— to be able to retreat into the familiar. To see the people he knows, the ones he likes. But he knows better than to think he can even drive past it, that it won’t be one of the first places they would look for him if they’re still watching; he needs to find a new place to stay tonight.
‘Everything changes. Maybe this change will be good—a new beginning. Yeah, that doesn’t sound too bad.’
A change of pace can be a good thing, will help to keep him safe for the time being. But he knows there’s only so many precautions he can take, only so much that changing his living situation will do, while he’s still holding onto something eye catchingly familiar.
He taps his fingers against the steering wheel, mulling over the reality of his situation. This is it— the biggest link he has to the old life he’d established here on Earth, the thing that could get him caught if anyone is watching for him. It’s a bit of an asinine thing to be upset about given his current circumstances, but he feels his heart sink all the same at the idea of parting with it. So he relishes the few minutes it takes before he’s back on a more populated road, enjoying what he knows will be the last time with the car.
‘Ah, well. It’s like they say: ‘all good things must come to an end.’’
He pulls off the road when he sees what he’s looking for, steering the car up to the front of the lot, past rows of used cars with prices painted on the windshield in bright, neon colors. He sends a glance towards the doors of the office as he shifts into park— the lights are still on and he can see someone moving inside; the place is still open, lucky break. He spends a moment behind the wheel, sending a final, cursory glance around the cabin before he opens the door and climbs out. The salesman from inside hurries out the door once it’s clear that Sugar intends to stay, that he’s not simply using the drive to turn around.
“Evening,” the man calls from halfway out the office door, sounding rushed and out of breath. “How can I help you?” Sugar closes the door behind him, does his best to offer a genuine smile to the salesman, one that doesn’t say ‘I’d rather be anywhere but here.’
“Evening. I’m, uh, I’m looking to do a trade in,” Sugar says, sending a forlorn look at the Corvette over his shoulder, then surveying the car for sale that’s closest, a bright pink ‘$50k’ painted across the windshield. It’s nice— not as nice as his car, but what would be— but too flashy, too obvious, for what he’s going for.
“You want to do a trade in?” The salesman repeats, his eyes jumping between Sugar and the Corvette like he’s expecting a camera crew to spring from the trunk, an announcement that this is all some ridiculous joke. He wishes that it was.
“I do,” Sugar says breezily, like this isn’t at all strange. He lets his eyes drift over the rows of cars in the lot, the LED bulbs shining on the hoods and highlighting every scratch, dent, and spot of chipped paint. All things the Stingray is lacking— having been painstakingly cared for and then well protected in Ruby’s garage while he was away. “How much for that one?” He asks, pointing at the little sedan that’s sequestered off in the corner. Simple, unassuming, nowhere near as nice as the car he has. But it’s not going to get him caught any time soon, so it’ll have to do. Besides, he’ll have to sell it for a different car at a different place tomorrow morning anyways; more distance between himself and his identity, another hurdle for Pavich and his people to have to cross in order to find him.
The salesman raises his eyebrows and Sugar can’t blame him for the skepticism. No one comes in wanting to trade a Corvette for a Camry; no one without trouble, anyways.
“Ten,” the salesman says after a moment’s hesitation and Sugar nods, preparing himself to make the offer that already tastes acrid in his mouth; he resists the urge to look back at his car again, lest he lose the nerve.
“Deal,” he says, sending a quick glance direction in the Toyota’s direction, then looking back at the salesman; his gold name badge reading ‘Dave’ glinting in the evening’s darkness. “Hey, Dave, how about we call it an even exchange?” He asks, tilting his head in the direction of the new car. “I’ll get you the paperwork for my car, you get me the keys for that one and you can keep the difference.”
“An even exchange?” Dave asks incredulously. “The Corvette for…that?” He looks between the two cars before regarding Sugar with a suspicious expression. “You steal it or something?” Sugar can’t help but laugh, shaking his head and trying his best to offer the man a reassuring smile to assuage his fears. So much for the unassuming, unmemorable disguise the new car was supposed to offer him.
“No, I didn’t steal it. Paperwork’s in the glovebox, all good to go, I promise.” He can see the questioning and disbelieving look still on the man’s face, and he can’t hardly blame him for it. “I need a new car and would just appreciate a little discretion, is all.”
“Discretion,” he repeats, his eyes swiveling between Sugar and the car slowly, like he’s still not convinced that any of this is real. Sugar’s half tempted to reaffirm, to offer up an explanation, a quip to lighten the mood and prove he’s not some joyriding car thief trying to offload his goods. But that’ll only make him more memorable, if that’s even possible, and will only add more questions. So instead he gives a short nod, decides that he’ll wait him out. “And I keep the rest?” Dave asks, watching Sugar intently.
“That’s right.” A heartbeat of silence, and Dave’s eyes linger on Sugar’s suit, drawing his own conclusions about what this all means, he’s sure, and Sugar’s willing to let him come to the wrong one if it means he can get this done.
“Deal.” Sugar nods, the relief he feels allowing the first wave of suppressed exhaustion to nearly overtake him. Another step closer now, another thing checked off the list of things to do before he can find her. He gives the salesman a nod, then heads back over to the Stingray to retrieve the paperwork. He grabs it before tucking the spare phone he’d stashed there away in his jacket pocket and snapping the glovebox shut with a click. His mind flashes back to Carl and he pushes the thought away as quickly as it had come, not able to bear the memory tonight of all nights.
“Here we go,” Dave’s voice— breathless, he must’ve run to the office and back— pulls Sugar out of his reminiscing. They trade paperwork and then Dave’s passing over the keys, his eyes still roaming over the Stingray like he doesn’t believe it won’t disappear at any moment.
“Appreciate it,” Sugar says after signing and passing them back, jangling the keys and giving the man a quick nod. He retrieves the Stingray keys from his coat pocket and pops the trunk; he’ll get his things and then that’ll be it.
“No problem, man.” Sugar can hear the unrestrained glee in the Dave’s voice and smiles to himself as he pulls his suitcase out of the back. It’s the same way he’d always felt when it was time to take the car out of storage, much to Ruby’s chagrin.
‘At least someone will be enjoying it, I guess.’
He gives the man a final nod as he hands the keys over, then heads over to his newly purchased vehicle. He pauses in front of the trunk, the key ring hanging loosely off his finger. He reaches into his coat pocket with his other hand, pulling out the small paper envelope he’d tucked there just a few hours ago. A parting gift from Ruby, something that can buy him a little time, can help cement his new beginning here on Earth.
He peeks into the envelope and looks over the bills inside, counts through them again. It’s not much; enough to pay for things for a while, but nothing’s infinite. He needs to be smart about this, needs to make it stretch as far as possible, and in this case that means cutting back. He remembers seeing a motel a mile or two back down the road— the kind of place that seemed like it wouldn’t look too hard at a cash-paying customer— and for now, it’s going to have to do. He can make a better plan tomorrow once he gets there, when he’s off the street and has time to think.
He thumbs through the stack, separating out a few of the bills and slipping them into his pants pocket, then folds the top of envelope closed. He opens the sedan’s trunk with one hand, lifts his suitcase inside, and stashes the envelope in the front zipper pouch. He won’t need it tonight— tomorrow’s when he’ll have to do his big spending, when he starts his new investigation. He closes the trunk, wishing that doing so would shut all his thoughts back here with his luggage, that he could keep his mind from racing for just a few short moments.
He climbs in the car, trying not to compare it to the Stingray down to every detail, and starts it up. He frowns as he pulls it out of the lot and onto the street, heading back down the road. It’s a rougher drive than he’s used to and he finds himself looking back fondly on the Stingray, still at the front of the dealership, until it shrinks out of sight in the rearview mirror; wishing that, in spite of all the awful things that have happened today, he could’ve kept the car. Such a ridiculous thing to worry about, all things considered, but he did like it.
‘Sentimental attachment to material things, maybe this place is rubbing off on me more than I thought.’
He shakes his head as he finally pulls into the parking lot of the motel, the bright red vacancy sign blinking overhead. That’s a good sign— a start, at least. He parks and climbs out, eyeing the building as he heads for the front desk. The place looks old, like it’s frozen in time from a few decades ago with its peeling paint and aged decor. The kid behind the desk looks up as he walks in, raises his eyebrow as Sugar approaches. There’s not even a computer— just one of those leather-bound guestbooks laid out on the countertop. Sugar feels himself start to smile just slightly, the sight helping to tamp down on a bit of the swirling despair he feels; a place that seems to appreciate a forgotten time, something they can both agree on, and of course, something that helps him.
“Hi. I need a room for the night,” Sugar says, reaching in his jacket pocket and pulling out two of the perfectly crisp bills he’d stashed away earlier, setting them down on the counter. The kid leans slightly to the side in his chair, looking out the window past Sugar like he’s expecting something. Sugar frowns, glancing over his shoulder and looking in the same direction, out to the parking lot where his empty car sits, parked right outside the door. Then he looks back to the kid, a name tag pinned to his blue polo that reads, ‘Justin.’
“Just you?” Justin asks, his eyes drifting over his attire with a skeptical look as he straightens up in his chair, hand reaching out and pulling the cash towards himself. Sugar feels his mouth twitch downwards into another frown and works to keep his expression neutral.
“Just me,” He confirms and the kid behind the desk shrugs.
“Sign here, please,” he says with a disinterested tap of his finger on the clear row in the guestbook before he withdraws his hand to open one of the desk drawers and rifle around in it. Sugar picks up the pen laid in between the pages and quickly scrawls out his assumed name for the night— Bud Reeves— before replacing the cap on the pen.
‘Hopefully I’ll have a bit more success in the city than he did.’
Justin finds what he was looking for and pushes the drawer closed before reaching across the desk to hand him a key.
“Room 203,” he says and Sugar gives him a quick nod, far too tired to feign gratefulness for much longer.
“Thanks,” He says, working hard to make it sound sincere, before he turns to leave, heading back out to the parking lot to retrieve his bags. The reminder that he’s here by himself is startlingly unwelcome, makes the awareness that he’s truly alone here settle in bone deep. The mission, the concept of going to a new planet and making a temporary home there, hadn’t felt so hard when it had been all of them— even in light of Djen’s disappearance. But now, without Ruby, without Miller and the others, it feels far more permanent. Melanie and Wiley’s absence only makes the ache in his chest sharper, more cavernous. They made him forget that Earth wasn’t really his home, a feeling he wishes he could have back.
He tries to think about something else as he pulls his bags from the car and heads up the creaky metal steps to his second floor room. He shoulders his way through the door, forcing open the sticking lock, and takes a look around. The bed takes up most of the space, situated in the middle of the room with a nightstand to the right and a mini fridge between the wall on the left, the machine’s hum the only sound countering the drone of the cars on the freeway outside.
‘It’s different— much different than what I’m used to, but it’s not bad. Besides, it’s just temporary, and there are bigger things to worry about.’
He doesn’t bother to unpack his things; he’s not staying here, not for long, anyways. He fights through exhaustion as he pulls out a fresh set of clothes and heads into the bathroom. It’s been a long day and he hopes that a hot shower and a good night’s sleep will give him enough energy to come up with a plan for tomorrow and everything that needs to come after.
He needs to limit his spending— Ruby and Miller had closed out their accounts, all the money that their group had made is inaccessible to him now. Presumably dispersed out to the people that know about them, a way that they were able to buy more time before they left the planet. All he has now is what’s left in his suitcase and he needs to make it last. It’s not like he can take on other cases right now, not while he’s being watched, not while he looks for Henry.
So he needs to carefully ration everything he has left, the money and the injections alike. Ruby had her extras with her— intending to bring them back home— and had passed them off to him; a final parting gift. It’ll be enough to last him a while, long enough that he can find Henry. And that’s what matters. He can worry about running out, about everything else, after.
He turns the shower knob off and dresses quickly; the steam that’s accumulated in the bathroom feeling almost as suffocating as the ever-growing list of things demanding his attention. He slides under the cheap motel comforter, the emptiness of the room feeling strangely unfamiliar already.
He lays in bed listening to the sound of cars drifting past on the road outside and he thinks. It’s much quieter in a motel room alone than it was when Wiley was with him; he’d gotten used to the sound of someone else in his space— even if that someone else kicked him out of the bed and snored like a foghorn.
It was nice, too, to have Melanie there, as temporary as that had been. She had been much quieter and considerate company than Wiley, and it was nice to have someone to talk to. It was comforting to know that she was physically there, even if he felt like he couldn’t be honest with her at the time about everything that was going on. But he had been honest with her eventually, when he thought it would be the last time they’d ever see each other.
She’d taken it well, hadn’t looked at him differently, like he’d expected her to. He wonders what she thinks of him now; he’d left too quickly to really get into it with her— too much to do. But now that he was staying he found himself wondering, wanting to know. He wants so badly to ask her, to see her again.
He’s keenly aware of the burner phone zipped away in his bag, sitting there like a forbidden fruit. He wants to contact her more than anything, wants to reach out right now and tell her that he stayed, that he’s still here. He wants to see her, to see Wiley. To have things go back to the way they had been before today, before he knew the truth about his people, about Henry, about Djen.
Thinking about her feels like a knife in his heart; has she been here on earth this whole time? Had she ended up like the girls that Pavich had taken, the ones that Henry had simply observed? The thought is too horrible to bear, the unknowns of it all closing in on him and stealing the air in the room. He needs to find out what happened to her, needs to find Henry.
There’s so much he needs to do now, so many things that are pulling his attention in a million different directions. Henry, Djen, Melanie, Wiley, his sudden lack of income, Pavich and his torture chamber, his well connected family and group— the ones that know about him and about the rest of his people.
He thinks back to the hanger, those final moments with Ruby. She said she’d heard from Miller but he hadn’t shown up— had all but said that she knew he wasn’t going to. ‘They’re hunting us,’ she’d said. They must have gotten to him— Pavich and his people. Revenge, maybe, for what had happened with Ryan. Payback for exposing his secrets, even though they’d all promised to leave because of it.
It’s a despairing thought, one that makes guilt gnaw in the pit of Sugar’s stomach. If they killed Miller they killed him because of what he did. He was reckless with Pavich, far more reckless than he usually ever was. But he had found Olivia; that’s what mattered, that was what he’d been tasked to do. Find the missing, reunite the lost with their families. And that’s what he’s going to do now, what he has to do.
He turns on his side, angling his back to the alarm clock’s bright red display. The countdown running in the back of his mind is enough of a distraction as it is, the feeling of time slipping through his fingers that he can’t seem to shake. Nothing he can do about it tonight, anyways, so best not to think about it.
He closes his eyes and wills himself to fall into some semblance of restful sleep, though he has his doubts he’ll be successful. It’s the first night in a while that he’s been alone in a room, figures that even without the stress of the day he’d have trouble shutting his mind off like this. ‘Just for tonight,’ he tells himself and he hopes that it can be true, that soon he won’t be so alone.