Chapter Text
They’re flying down the road a good ways into their drive to ‘the middle of scenic nowhere’, their party down by one very irritable hellhound, and Moxxie at the wheel. Blitz has formed another theory which isn’t entirely new given its relation to his previous hypothesis.
“So,” he announces to the car, “I’ve had something of an epiphany. Stolas has been really into weird roleplay stuff lately and–”
Moxxie groans in exasperation. “Please don’t finish that sentence.”
“I mean, obviously he’s taken it way way too far, but that has to be it. It’s always a sex thing with him which means that everything’s actually fine, and this is probably a huge waste of time.”
“Are you serious, Blitz?” Millie’s looking back over her shoulder from the front passenger seat.
“But it makes sense!”
“And denial is a river in Egypt,” she says, throwing up her hands.
“Who says anyone’s denying anything?!”
“I’m saying that because you are. You screwed up and now you’re making up stupid best case scenarios in your head to make yourself feel better because deep down you actually feel guilty that something serious went down, and you were ignoring it.”
Blitz splutters incredulously. “Like I’ve done anything wrong here. I listened to the voicemails, and we’re making the drive out…”
“Yeah, we’re making the drive out because Moxxie and I made you. But we’re basically a whole day too late.”
“T-too late. Says who?” He’s waving off the idea with a dismissive hand.
“Says all those distress messages you got yesterday, and the fact that barely a one after those first few were even coherent. Were you even actually listening?”
“Yeah, I heard them. But that’s not actually–I mean, Stolas likes to play things up for attention.”
Moxxie looks like he’s on the verge of slamming his head into the steering wheel out of sheer frustration. “You still think this is, what, a game or a roleplay or something?!”
“I–well, let’s just say I wouldn’t put it past Stolas! So what that he called a bunch. The last one was hours ago, so doesn’t that say something? If he was really in trouble and needed help he’d still be at it, right? I mean he clearly has access to a phone which to me seems a little too convenient in itself, but he stopped calling so maybe that’s just him giving up because he’s realized it isn’t working and I’m not dumb enough not to see through him…despite the fact that I’m in this car and we’re barrelling down the highway at 90 an hour to the f*cking middle of scenic nowhere anyway.” It sounds a little less convincing out loud than it did in Blitz’s head.
Moxxie is shaking his head. “Did you ever consider why he might have suddenly stopped calling and that maybe him not calling anymore isn’t a good thing?”
Blitz’s entire stomach instantly furls itself into a knot. He folds his arms across his chest. “Well, when we show up and find him sitting there asking me to come put a bandaid on a scrape and kiss it better–”
Moxxie floors the gas, and the car lurches forward so violently Blitz is physically thrown over in his seat.
“The f*ck?!” Blitz is struggling to right himself.
“I have had it about up to here,” Moxxies punches the roof of the car, “with your sh*t!”
“Moxx,” Millie puts a hand on his shoulder.
“This time it’s Stolas, but who's it going to be next time? If Millie or I ever get on your nerves, will we be on our own too because you won’t bother to pick when we call?! You gonna make up stories about how everything’s fine despite all the f*cking evidence to the contrary and then saunter ages after we’re dead and cold and just shrug your f*cking shoulders like it’s no big deal because you don’t actually give a sh*t about anyone but yourself?!”
Moxxie’s driving is matching the erratic pace of his speech.
“I’d–I’d never—”
“Except you absolutely would if it was even the slightest bit inconvenient or if you were even the slightest bit not in the mood like right f*cking now!”
The end of the route is blinking up ahead on the GPS on the dashboard.
“Y-you don’t know Stolas like I do,” Blitz begins eventually. “He likes to run around and pretend he’s helpless because he feels like he gets something out of it, but he can take care of himself. He’ll say he needs me for this and that all the time, but it’s never actually been true.”
“It was true during that whole situation way back with Striker,” Millie replies coolly. “That was pretty damn serious, but as I recall you weren’t around to see much of that.”
Blitz is immediately on the defense. “First off, I was attempting to be a responsible father to my hellhound, and, second, I was there in spirit.”
Moxxie sighs, “In spirit and then you wandered in way after the fact and only barely. You were phased for all of 10 seconds, if that, and then you sent a ‘get well’ text on the drive home and called it a day.” His voice is considerably calmer though his driving is not.
What Moxxie hadn’t seen behind Blitz’s implacable exterior had been that twinge of anxiety that had taken root the moment he’d caught a brief glimpse of Stolas’ familiar, unmoving figure on a hospital stretcher as he was raced inside and the clamor of reporters and journalists as they verbalized every worst-case scenario that came to their minds. No one had any definitive news to share, and Moxxie and Millie had been reticent and exhausted. All he’d eventually learned from a text from Stolas himself was that there was a long recovery period ahead.
Even without delving any deeper, though, that brief twinge had begun to grow, minute by minute, where no one could see it, until Blitz had the good sense to head it off by drowning it in alcohol. That being his general cure for anything and everything that ailed him meant no one had really noticed.
Except Stolas had been fine then, and he’s fine now too. Blitz is sure of this. He has to be.
But when Blitz opens his mouth to assert this and have the final say on the matter, the words die before they can even pass his lips. Which, to his recollection, has never happened before.
