Chapter Text
BANG
"Fuck!"
The steering wheel wrenched hard and the bulk of the car rocked, inertia dragging hard to the left. Catra thanked her reflexes - she was already pulling the steering wheel against the drift, already decelerating as quickly as was safe, she'd already tapped her hazard lights on.
The front left tyre rumbled violently as she checked her view and mirrors. The car she'd nearly hit had pulled away in front; the rest of the middle lane had noticed her plight and slowed down. She transferred to middle, then to left, then to the hard shoulder.
She turned off the engine, and let herself breathe.
You're okay. You didn't crash, you didn't flip, you're still here.
She unbuckled, checked her mirror. A coach rumbled past, then a truck, and then there was enough of a gap to get out.
Front left. The sidewall of the tyre was nothing but ribbons, the hubcap collapsed against the tarmac like the tyre had given up mid-thought.
She turned, looked out over the freshly-tilled field beside the road. The wind was cold. She pulled her jacket tight and straightened, and the traffic noise pressed in - constant, impersonal, the sound of people getting where they needed to go.
She gave herself a moment. Put in her headphones as she waited for her shallow breath and pattering heartbeat to calm down.
She opened the boot. Moved her suitcase to the back seat. Opened up the tyre well, and hauled out the spare. Put it down on the gravel and was about to go back into the boot for rest of the tyre kit when the truck pulled in.
It pulled up ahead of her car with careful precision, and the driver cut the engine.
The woman who got out was tall. She moved the way you'd move if you'd spent eight hours a day managing something that weighed several tons - deliberate, economical, the kind of motion that came from repetition and competence. She arced round to the left of the car, visibly winced at the damage.
"Well done keeping that under control," she said with a small nod. "Want a hand with the change?"
Catra took stock as quickly and discreetly as she could. The woman was visibly strong, with - as far as she could tell - no hostility or swagger.
"Sure." Catra pulled the last of the tyre kit out of the boot with a clunk, and held up the hand-crank jack and the tyre wrench. She chuckled at the woman's bare arms, and handed her the wrench without a word.
The woman took it and crouched. She didn't get right to the work - just watched the tyre for a moment, reading it the way you'd read a page. Something old and deep in that assessment. Then she nodded, and tapped the underside of the car, about six inches away from the wheel arch.
"Jack point's just here," she said. "I'll loosen, you jack?"
Catra couldn't help herself; the laugh burst out of her. "Down girl," she said with a smirk.
The blonde blushed. "I... sorry. Heard it as soon as I said it."
"All good," Catra hunkered down next to the woman and put the jack in roughly the right place. "That blush tells me you're _probably_ not a serial killer."
"Oh my god, and you just handed me this wrench," the blonde kept up the banter, working her way around the wheel loosening the bolts one by one.
"I like to live dangerously I guess," Catra chuckled, and then they were working a little too hard for the conversation to flow easily. The jack was a rotary screw affair, which meant it didn't need a lot of force but it took a long time to work - the blonde had almost removed all five bolts by the time Catra had raised the car far enough for the tyre to come off the ground.
The blonde worked the last lugnut off, and they both took hold of the tyre. A quiet three-two-one and it was off, heavier than Catra had expected - but the blonde just gave her a smile, took the weight of it, set it down, reached for the spare.
There was a scar on her shoulder blade, visible where the shirt had twisted - something old and deep, a line of paler skin that caught the light. The new tyre went on with practiced speed. She was bolting it in when a car came too close, its slipstream pushing hard enough that the car rattled and the burst of air curled all the way around to where they were hunkered down, the wind like a shove against their bodies.
"Bastard," the woman muttered, not looking up. Her hands stayed steady.
She finished the bolts as Catra lowered the jack. As they stood, Catra watched the blonde's effort - a small shift in her spine, a micro-adjustment that said she'd definitely slept in her truck one too many times.
But then the blonde picked up the busted tyre as though it was nothing and tucked it into the wheel-well in Catra's boot without any more visible strain.
"There we go, all set," the woman said.
"Thanks." Catra meant it plainly. The whole thing had taken maybe ten minutes, and the woman could have just driven past. "Really. I appreciate it."
The woman nodded. She wiped her hands on a rag from her pocket. "You heading far?"
"Gloucester. You?"
"Exeter." The woman seemed to consider something. "You good to drive? That tyre's solid, but if you want to get it sorted properly, there's a decent garage in Thornbury, little way south. No ripoffs - leastways, not if I take you."
Catra shook her head. "No, I'll get it changed at home. It's fine." She paused. "I'm Catra."
The woman's mouth curved. "Adora."
They stood like that for a moment, with the tyre between them and the endless traffic on the other side of the car. Catra was aware of her own hands - still slightly greasy - and of Adora's. The nails cut short. A small scar across the knuckle of her thumb.
Adora pulled a white rectangle from her shirt pocket. "My number's on here. If you want. Breakfast place in the village, next time you're through."
Catra took it. The card was simple. Name, mobile number, something about haulage work. She turned it over in her hands. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice."
Adora moved toward the truck, then paused. "You sure you're good? I have snacks in the glovebox. Blood sugar can take a real dive after adrenaline like that."
"What are you, a sports therapist too?" Catra chuckled. "I'll be alright. But thank you."
"Something like that," Adora gave her a smile. "Alright then."
The truck door opened with the sound of actual effort - old vehicle, old hinges, Catra supposed. Adora settled into the cab, started the engine, gave Catra a single-handed wave, and pulled back into the flow of traffic with the certainty of someone who'd been doing this for years. Catra watched her disappear into the ordinary stream heading southwest.
She looked down at the spare tyre - plain hubcap, thinner than the rest, scuffed from years of living in the boot.
She took out her phone, and tapped in Adora's number.
Changed my mind. See you in Thornbury.