Travel The Road

On your knees, you look up, decide you've had enough, you get mad, you get strong, wipe your hands, shake it off, then you stand

Joe sat, unmoving, in a chair across the table from Juliet in the shed. She stared back at him, eyes determined. "Why won't you go?" he demanded. She looked away as she thought to make her reply.

"Because my father is the one fixing your motorcycle in the first place and it's disloyal," she replied monotonously, as if she knew she was crazy for refusing, but wouldn't change her mind. Joe made a face at her reply before passing her a new rag to try to stop the blood.

"And pushing you hard enough and fast enough that you don't realize you're even falling and bust your head open on the concrete is okay?" he asked sarcastically. Juliet sighed as she closed her eyes, pushing the rag to her head.

"I can't do that to my dad, Joe. He didn't used to be this way. It was just after my mom died, he became frustrated with me, like I couldn't live up to her or something. And occasionally he has anger issues and there's nothing but me around to take it out on. My mom's gone, and if I leave, what will he do with himself, then?"

Joe cocked his head, considering this. He had to admit, she had a good answer. Still, he wasn't about to give up without a fight. "Juliet, this isn't right and you damn well know it."

Juliet cocked an eyebrow at him as she adjusted herself in the metal chair she sat in. "Was that a curse word I just heard, Mr. Disney?" she asked. Joe didn't smile at her joke. "You can't stay here. It's dangerous to your health."

Juliet bit her lip as she considered this. Joe watched her carefully. Something in her eyes changed, and she looked back at him. What he was unsure of, however, was whether this change of mindset was good or bad.

"I'll make you a deal, Jonas," she declared, leaning a bit further towards the table in his direction. He raised an eyebrow.

"You've been gone from your family for what? Four days?"

No. Joe definately didn't like where this was going.

"I'll go with you if you go back home. Where you belong."

Juliet smirked as she let her back his the chair, but cringed as she did. The vibrations ran up her spine towards her already light head. She had him, and she knew it. Joe frowned, a crease making an appearance mid-forehead.

"You're pretty cocky for someone put in this situation," he stated as he ran a hand through his hair. Juliet rolled her eyes. "For the record, so are you."

Joe faked a smile, which Juliet returned. "It's kind of funny," she declared as she stood. "I don't want to leave my father because I'm afraid of what he'll do without me. You left for the exact same reason."

She turned, leaning against the same sawdust covered table she had gotten the first rag to put over her bloody cut. Her face was expressionless, no emotion visible to the naked eye. Joe clenched his teeth. "It's not like that," he said.

"Oh, isn't it? Bored, were you, Joe? Had to shake things up a bit? Do you have any idea what your family is going through right now? You know, we have a television. You could find out if you wanted. Because right now, you're the only thing on their mind. And admit it," she paused, as she thought over her next words, which came out softer than her others. "They're the last thing on yours."

Joe pressed his lips together, his hands balling up as he did so. "That's not true," he argued. Juliet cocked her head to the side. "Then prove it. Go home. I'll leave with you. Everybody wins."

Juliet stood motionless as she watched Joe attempt to control his anger. Slowly but surely, his fists unclenched, his eyebrows uncreased. Raising a hand to smooth a line in his forehead, he sighed exhasperatedly. "You wouldn't understand," he stated.

"I could try," she replied softly. Still, there was an edge to her voice.

Joe sighed and Juliet sensed defeat. She cocked her head, curious as to what he was going to say next. Finally, he looked up at her, an expression of resignation on his face. "You're coming with me," he stated. Juliet half-smiled and nodded. He ran a tired hand through his hair, as if he knew he was crazy, then held it out for Juliet to take.

"Deal?"

"Deal."

[&&&]

Joe sat uncomfortably across the dining room table from John, Juliet on the right side, sitting a chair from Joe and beside her father. John had spent the entire day on his motorcycle and declared it "at least functioning" after taking it for a test drive.

Joe had spent the better part of his day in the room John had appointed for him, uncomfortable around John once he knew his little secret. Juliet seemed uncomfortable as well, guilt undoubtedly filling her head as she stirred the noodles she had made for dinner. The plans had been made only moments before John had pulled up the drive, and they still weren't set in stone. Details, details.

The dinner was silent, John sweaty and greasy from working all day, Juliet's thoughts getting the better of her, and Joe nervous for what he knew was ahead. What, exactly, would John do when he discovered his daughter gone? He couldn't exactly go to the police. For one thing, Juliet was eighteen, legally an adult and able to leave on her own. For another, he had abused her for the better part of her years.

He guessed it all had to do mostly with how cocky John was under that hospitable mask he wore. What drove a man to rescue Joe off the side of the road, then turn around and hurt his own daughter? The world made no sense, yet it kept turning, unbiased and unfazed by the events happening on it's own surface.

Therefore, the only sounds at the dinner table that night was the scraping of fork against plate and the songs of crickets near the open window. Occasionally, Joe would glance up and catch Juliet's eye, but besides that, communication simply didn't occur.

John finished first, setting down his fork and wiping spaghetti sauce from his well-tanned face before crumpling it and throwing it on the plate. He began to push himself away from the table, but after a moment, thought better of leaving his daughter alone with this stranger, and sat there, resting his elbows on the table and folding his hands.

If you only knew, Joe couldn't help but think. Still, he kept silent beneath the stare of the man across from him as he twirled spaghetti onto the fork and lifted it to his mouth.

"So," John began, and Joe politely sat down his fork, folding his own hands on the table as he looked up, awaiting the rest of his sentence. "You should be about set. When do you plan on leaving?"

"Dad..." Juliet quietly warned him of his bluntness, but John completely ignored him, keeping his eyes on Joe. Joe swallowed, taking his time and reaching for his glass. After taking a few gulps of the water, he cleared his throat.

"I promise to be on my way early tomorrow. I can't thank you enough for your hospitality," he replied before adding, "toward me" as an after thought. Juliet sent him a look, but as her father had, he ignored her, keeping his eyes focused ahead. The man nodded silently before reaching forward for his own glass, his filled half-way with beer rather than the water Joe had opted for.

Juliet stared incredulously from one man to the other, annoyed at the conversation going on ahead of her. With a heavy sigh of annoyance, she pushed herself up from the table, the legs making a light sound against the dirty carpet as she did so. "You finished?" she asked shortly as she grabbed Joe's plate, not waiting for his reply before she did so. After snatching up her father's plate, she began for the kitchen, dropping the plates into the sink and turning on the water.

John, without a word, stood and wiped his hands on the front of his greasy light blue work shirt before making his way over to the couch in the living room. Joe stood as well, a question lingering on his lips.

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to take a shower before heading to bed."

John made no sound, simply nodding his head in reply. Joe pressed his lips together to form a line before turning on his heel and heading towards the stairs. He was aware Juliet was watching him from where she stood running a rag over the surface of the wet dishes, but he once again ignored her as he started up the stairs.

[&&&]

John went to bed at exactly 11:12, Joe noted, looking at his watch at the sound of the door closing next to his. He wondered what Juliet was doing across the hall. Whether or not she had realized there was no room on the motorcycle for any spare clothing was a mystery to him.

He had the intense urge to walk to his door and peek through the space between the bottom of the door and the wooden flooring in the hallway to see if there were lights on in her room, but he knew that was ridiculous and childish.

Exactly three hours later, they had agreed on, and he was anxious. The time passed with a deliberate slow pace, as if it knew the intentions of the teenagers occupying the home. Finally, though, Joe looked to his watch and read 2:05 on the hands. It was time.

Joe slowly made his way to the door, his shoes in tow. Slowly, he wedged the old door open. The lights were off in Juliet's room, but they were in his room as well. He paused, unsure whether to knock on the door and risk waking John, or go ahead downstairs and push the motorcycle out of the garage.

The second, he decided. Juliet would eventually make her way down there. And if she didn't, he would get her down there somehow. They had a deal.

As quietly as possible, Joe made his way through the house, cursing his own weight on the occasions that the boards below him creaked in protest. Finally, though, he was in the cool air, the breeze blowing on his face and bare arms. After pulling on his leather jacket, he jumped from the top step to the gravel of the driveway, afraid the stairs might give him away.

The full moon served as a perfectly good light until he made it to the metal arch that the shed was constructed of. There was a small door, but as far as he remembered, no windows to help him see in the dark. He wasn't sure of where John had put his motorcycle after working on it, but he hoped it somewhere near the entrance. Joe wasn't confident of his night vision as he stepped into the shed.

As was predicted, it was pitch black, sending shivers down Joe's spine as he blindly felt around in the shed for anything that could help him see. Something cold and long hit his face, and he could feel the texture of a chain. To a light and not a heavy object on a shelf, he hoped as he pulled down on it.

Joe flinched, whether it was from the light or the expectancy of something to fall on his head, he wasn't completely sure. Still, he stood there a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the blinding light before he could see clearly. To his left, he saw, wedged between a home made shelf and the right side of the Grimlin.

His footsteps made echoes in the large structure as he walked there, gripping the handlebars and pulling it out of the little cubbie space it had been in. After he had it about half-way out, he moved to a different position, one just beside the bike, and began pushing. It was heavier than he recalled it being in the past.

Still, he made it out of the shed and back into the moonlight, which seemed obscenely dim compared to the light still on in the shed. He turned back to the shed, walking in and turning the light off before walking back to the bike.

Surveying the area, Juliet was no where to be seen. Should he go back upstairs to get her and risk going through the unstable home to wake John? He was unsure as he leaned against the bike, which lost it's balance and tipped to the side. Joe regained his footing just before the bike hit the ground with a loud crunch. He cringed as he heard it, hoping John couldn't hear it from his room. After waiting a solid five minutes for John to burst out the front door cursing, he decided he was safe and made his way to where the bike was laying on the side with intentions of setting it upright.

Getting a good grip on the handlebar, he pulled up, his abs tightening beneath his shirt as he used his upper body strength to push it. Then something jabbed into his hand, and a curse word escaped his lips before he could think twice. A rock had embedded itself into the end of the handlebar and into his own hand. Annoyed, he began to throw it to the ground, before thinking better of it.

Joe looked up at the window that belonged to the room he had been staying in, then let his eyes trail further left, to the room directly across from his. Juliet's room.

With a hopeful smile, Joe aimed at that window before throwing the pebble, which bounced against the window, then fell back to the ground. At the very least, it was romantic. And even Joe couldn't deny the obvious attraction he held toward the girl, whether he knew her or not.

After not recieving a reaction from the inhabitant of the room, Joe tried again, picking up a rock a bit larger, and chucking it at the window.

"Joseph, chill," a voice said from the blackness of the porch, and Joe turned in that direction. Juliet was bounding down the steps, pulling her long, ebony hair into a ponytail. She wore a simple white tank top and shorts cut off from an old pair of jeans. As always, her beat-up Converse were present.

She reached the bike quickly, half-jogging and half-running as she tightened the band around her hair. "Look," she ordered as she pulled something out of her back pocket. Two hundred dollar bills, Joe realized with wide eyes. "If we're doing this, we're doing this right," she replied with a shrug after taking in his response.

Joe had no objections, he had no money of his own to buy gas to get them back to California. He began to climb atop the bike, but Juliet stopped him. "What are you? Nuts? You rev that thing up here and dad'll wake up before you can mutter a profanity. Come on," she sighed, ushering him off the bike as she took hold of one of the handlebars. "We have to push this to the road at the very least."

He began to make a reply, but Juliet had already began pushing, and Joe stopped himself, grabbing hold of the bike and helping.

A few strands of hair had escaped the ponytail Juliet had attempted, but she didn't seem bothered by it. As Joe pushed, his brown eyes focused on the girl on the other side of the bike. She was calculating in her mind, he could see, but for now, he would watch her. He would watch the way the breeze blew those stray strands behind her and out of her face. He would watch the way her eyes would focus on different things in a frenzy of nervous behavior. He would watch the way she arched her back into helping her push the bike forward.

He would watch her.