Chapter Text
The sun was shining down in harsh waves through the small window, and Lola shoved her face further into the pillow, groaning in annoyance. It was too hot. The bed was too small. Chelsea was too long and gangly. Her feet were too damn big, but at least she’d changed her socks–small miracles.
She pushed Chelsea’s feet away from her face and reached for the younger woman’s arm. Turning her wrist over, she leaned up to read Chelsea’s watch. 06:20. Flopping back against her pillow with a huff, she wiped a hand across her face.
She’d barely slept. Not that that was unusual anymore. Sleepless nights, whether by choice or circumstance, had become pretty routine. She had thought that maybe being on the road, in a relatively safe space, would allow her to get in a few extra hours. Apparently, that wasn’t the case.
With clumsy movements and a lot of bumped elbows and knees, she managed to extract herself from their makeshift bed. She still wasn’t sure they’d put the cushions together the right way.
Part of the problem was that instead of just sleeping on the two single benches, they’d tried to unfold them into the full bed. Of course, neither of them had ever done that before, and it wasn’t like they had instructions. It just seemed like they’d have more space if they stretched it out to its full size.
If there was any extra space, Lola wasn’t sure where it’d gone. They’d spent half the night trying to figure out the best way to sleep without toppling the whole damn mess over. It didn’t help that Chelsea refused to use the bedding that was already in the RV, so they’d spent half the night freezing, and now it was stifling hot.
“So, it needs a little work,” Lola mumbled to herself. “It’s still better than some of the other places we’ve slept.” She turned back to see Chelsea readjusting to the extra space.
Instead of stretching out, she drew in on herself. Her brow furrowed as though disappointed and her arm flopped off the side of the bed. Once settled, she started to snore quietly once more.
“Oh sure, now you want to make some room,” Lola said, knowing that Chelsea was dead to the world. At least one of them was getting sleep.
Grabbing her jeans off the floor, Lola shimmied into her pants. She grabbed her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed near Chelsea’s denim-clad hips. If she wasn’t using the sheets, she sure as hell wasn’t going to be sleeping on those cushions without some level of protection.
As Lola laced up her boots, she felt the warmth of the younger woman curl around her as Chelsea moved closer. Smiling easily, she looked down at her friend.
Nothing about their friendship made any sense. Who would have thought that two strangers sharing a bus stop would have ended up in such a mess? That they would come out on the other side of it, road tripping across the country like a couple of kids on a gap year?
They weren’t complete opposites, but somehow all their messy baggage seemed to complement each other’s. They brought out the best–and at times the worst–in each other. She knew that despite all they’d been through they both were better people for it.
Chelsea had become stronger and taken control of her life. Lola had watched her grow into her strengths and desires–and while she may have influenced the younger woman, there was no doubt in her mind that Chelsea was her own person.
As for herself, she was slowly learning that it was okay to let someone in–to allow them to care about her. For now, that list consisted of precisely one name, but she was working on it. Of course, there was also David and Donna, but it wasn’t the same. She still felt the need to keep up a stronger persona around them–a front that might protect them from the consequences of her choices.
As much as she wished it were true, things weren’t as simple as she and Chelsea were pretending, they were. Leaning forward, she rested her arms on her knees and sighed. They were still wanted, and she knew the police weren’t giving up any time soon. They’d embarrassed the authorities repeatedly. Wounded pride was a dangerous fuel, and until they were caught, it would just keep building.
They needed to keep moving. It was the only thing Lola knew to do. Everything else she could deal with later. They just needed to get away and disappear. With a little time to breath, they could make a new plan, but for now, they needed distance.
Climbing over the heaps of belongings left by the previous owners, and their own meager belongings, Lola made her way to the small kitchenette. The old coffee pot had a post-it on it in Chelsea’s neat handwriting. Where she had even found post-its, Lola had no idea.
Along with her message she’d taken to drawing along the edges: a smiling sun, flowers, and hearts. Smirking at Chelsea’s sleeping form, Lola shook her head and read the note.
Good Morning!! I know you’ll use it anyway, but the coffee pot is cracked. Don’t make more than three cups. PLEASE! Let’s not end up in the hospital because you’ve decided to drink glass.
There was an arrow to flip over from where Chelsea had run out of room.
Forget that. Since you’re going to do what you want to anyway, it’s all set and ready to go. Just turn it on ~C
Lola flipped the switch to turn it on with a snort of amusement. She stretched her arms out above her head, still feeling stiff and worn out. Heading to the front of the vehicle, she found her glasses and started the engine. It was time for them to get back on the road. She flipped the radio on, hoping to catch any news about them and what the police were planning next. They wouldn’t reveal any useful details to the general public, but it still brought her some sense of control.
After about ten minutes of driving, Lola realized that while the coffee was made, she was still going to have to pull over to get some. Silently debating between stopping and suffering, Chelsea slumped down in the seat next to her. The younger woman stretched out her arm, passing over a travel mug and smiling sleepily at her.
“Ta,” Lola said, bringing the cup to her lips, and taking a large sip. She quickly moved the back of her hand up to cover her mouth in an attempt to resist spitting it out.
The RV swerved and shook slightly at the change in terrain as Lola let go of the steering wheel. Jumping from her seat, Chelsea grabbed the steering wheel and steadied them. “Lola!”
After finally swallowing the mouthful, Lola ran her tongue across her teeth, trying to erase the taste. “Bloody hell. Did you make this out of dirt?” she asked, wiping off her mouth. She brushed Chelsea’s hands off the steering wheel and handed her the mug. “Here, take this.”
Sitting back down, Chelsea frowned. She looked down at the coffee and took a tentative sniff at it. “Oh god, that is awful.” She got up and dumped the liquid down the sink, along with the rest of the pot. “We didn’t have any coffee,” she said returning to her seat. “I had to use what they’d left behind. It looked okay, but honestly, we need to stop somewhere and get supplies anyway.”
“Great. I don’t have to worry about the cracked pot. You’ll poison me before that’s an issue,” Lola snarked. She needed caffeine. The day was already starting out on a rough note. She pulled off the highway and followed the signs towards one of the smaller towns.
Turning in her seat and drawing her knees up, Chelsea watched her. “How long have you been up?” she asked through a yawn. It always took her a little longer to wake up in the mornings. She had always been an early riser, but it was more out of habit than her own circadian rhythm.
“Not long,” Lola said. “I wanted to keep moving, though. We’re not as far as I’d like to be.”
Chelsea nodded along, only half listening. They would never be far enough for Lola to relax. She would need to figure out how to deal with that eventually. The woman deserved a break after all the years she’d spent looking over her shoulder, even if it was only a temporary respite. “We still need to stop somewhere.” She ignored the look Lola shot her. “We need food. We need toiletries. We need blankets!”
Lola sighed but nodded. “Yeah, alright.” Chelsea hadn’t even realized she’d already been looking for a shopping strip that might satisfy the younger woman. She was right; they did need to pick up a few things.
It was just so easy to stay inside the RV where they could be themselves. Even being “Lola” and hiding her past had been less exhausting than everything they’d been through in the past few weeks. In here, it was just her and Chelsea. It was easy. She’d been dreading this shopping trip before Chelsea had even brought it up.
Pulling into a rundown parking lot, Lola ignored Chelsea’s fidgeting. She could tell that she was trying to hold back saying anything. “We’ll stop later for other things. Just the essentials for now.” She waited, but there was no response. Looking over at Chelsea expectantly, she was surprised when the younger woman merely nodded in understanding.
“I can still get things to clean with, right?” she asked, one side of her mouth curling up in hopeful excitement.
Rolling her eyes, Lola nodded. “Yes, you can clean to your heart’s content. I just think we should keep in mind that we might not get to keep this thing for long. If we have to move quickly, or if we get spotted…”
Grabbing Lola’s arm, Chelsea nodded. “I get it, Lola. I just don’t think it would kill us to make it a little more comfortable.”
“Righto,” Lola said, turning off the engine. “Let’s just make this quick.”
Chelsea hopped up, excited at the prospect of shopping–even if it was only for groceries. She just took a few minutes to get cleaned up and changed and checked herself over in the small bathroom mirror. Chelsea was surprised when Lola pushed her blue hat onto her head.
“Wear that,” Lola said, pulling her own hair up and trying to see herself in the mirror. “And move over, will ya,” She mumbled, two bobby pins resting between her lips.
Chelsea snatched the hat off and shook her head. “Absolutely not,” she said, shoving the offending item back at Lola.
Rolling her eyes, Lola tried to push the hat back at her. “Just for the afternoon. You look too much,” Lola paused, gesturing vaguely at Chelsea, “like you.”
“Then give me your shirt,” Chelsea said, crossing her arms. She continued to refuse the hat.
Lola just stared at her for a moment and set the hat on the counter. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked, as she started to unbutton her shirt. At least the shirt she had on under her flannel wasn’t horrible. She’d never fit her chest into any of Chelsea’s clothes.
“Every time you give me that hat you leave me!” Chelsea explained, voice tightening into a pitch that hurt Lola’s ears.
Lola spun on her heels to look at her. “What are you talking about?”
“When you left me with my father…”
Letting out a sigh, Lola nodded. “That was one time. I just… I wanted you to have something… I thought…”
“That it would make it easier?” Chelsea asked accusingly. “It didn’t. You also sent it with me when we left prison.”
Pulling her shirt off, she thrust it at Chelsea. “What? No… You had it. When… Morrison…” Turning away from the younger woman, she fussed with her hair in the mirror, hoping to avoid the rest of the conversation or at least Chelsea’s accusing glares.
“Lola, I’m not an idiot. When they took us into custody, I’d already given it back to you,” Chelsea explained, tone slowing down as the emotions took their toll. “There was no way they would have logged it in with my stuff. I don’t know how you did it, but I know it was you.” She quickly slipped the shirt on over her tank top and buttoned it up halfway.
“Fine,” Lola said. “Alright. When Maxine said we’d be placed separately, I asked her to make sure it got boxed up with your things. Okay?” She turned to face Chelsea and offered the hat back to her. “I’m not going to leave you, Chelsea. Please just wear the damned thing.”
“Damned is right,” Chelsea said, peering at herself in the mirror over Lola’s shoulder. “I swear we’ve killed more people in this hat then…” She saw Lola’s face shadow and stopped talking. “It looks better on you,” Chelsea admitted, trying to adjust it in a way that looked natural on her. “Here, wear these,” she said, pushing her oversized sunglasses onto Lola’s face.
Lola refused to even look at herself in the mirror with them on. “Ugh, let’s just get this over with.” She headed towards the door, but Chelsea called after her.
“What if I clean up here, and you get the groceries?” When Lola just stared at her Chelsea slumped in defeat. “Do I have to go? You don’t let me cook anyway,” she said, attempting to weasel her way out of grocery shopping.
“You’re the one that wanted to stop in the first place,” Lola said, exasperated. “If you plan on eating then yes, you have to come. I go by myself, and you won’t eat a blasted thing I pick out.”
“It’s not my fault I can’t have gluten,” Chelsea said defensively. The idea of shopping had been exciting at first, but the novelty of it was wearing off. She wanted to clean and make things homier. She didn’t particularly want to wander up and down grocery aisles and argue over the necessity of everything either of them touched.
Lola raised her hands up, stopping the rest of whatever Chelsea was going to say. “I didn’t say it was your fault. I just said you were a pain in the arse to shop for.”
“Fine,” Chelsea grumbled. “Let’s throw all this old stuff out first.” When Lola nodded, Chelsea busied herself gathering up all the old food.
She hated grocery shopping. She always had. Too many things she couldn’t have. Too many things her father bought that she didn’t want. Well, things her father requested. She doubted he’d stepped foot in a market in years.
As Chelsea angrily bagged up all the old food, apparently working through some internal strife, Lola took a moment to put together a list of what she wanted to get based on the limited space they had to store food. It didn’t take long. Most likely they’d have to make frequent stops if they wanted anything that didn’t have a shelf life of 10+ years.
She’d planned out what she could as far as the healthy stuff went, and then tried to fill out the rest of the order with anything that would keep and hopefully not kill them. “Look this over,” she said, handing the list to Chelsea. “Add what you need to. Just remember this is only a stop gap until we get a little further.”
"I just want to get rid of all this junk that isn't ours and..."
"Obsessively clean until you're sure there's not a germ in here?" Lola shot her a smile. "It's fine."
Nodding, Chelsea added a few things to the list but figured she’d just grab things as they went along. After seeing, and smelling, some of the leftovers in the small fridge that she’d just emptied, food was the last thing she wanted to think about. She handed Lola back the notepad once she was finished.
“Okay, right. So, I’ll start on the groceries; you hit cleaning and HBA. Yeah?” She flipped to the second page and started to copy over the things she wanted Chelsea to grab.
“HBA?” Chelsea asked, having no idea what she was talking about.
Lola realized her retail brain had taken over. Even if Chelsea hadn’t lived in a bubble, she probably wouldn’t have known. “Health and Beauty Aids. Shampoo and crap,” she explained. “Just get whatever you like.”
“What about you?” Chelsea asked, taking the list, and folding it in half.
“Just assume I’ll use half of whatever you buy,” she said. “Oh, except…” She grabbed the page back from Chelsea and pulled the pen cap off with her teeth. “Alright, there ya go,” she mumbled as she added to the list and handed it back to her.
Chelsea glanced down to see the name of some fancy shampoo and conditioner that she would never have expected Lola to buy for herself. “That it?”
Smirking, Lola said, “If you think for a minute that I’m letting you pick out my makeup you’re dead wrong.” She grabbed Chelsea by the chin and tilted her face from side to side. “Might get you some though,” she teased.
Or, at least Chelsea hoped she was teasing. She jerked her head out of Lola’s grasp and batted her hand away. “Can we just go and get this over with?” Chelsea asked, already headed towards the door.
Lola frowned and watched her walk away for a moment before following. “We’ll be done before you know it,” Lola said, sidling up to the younger woman. She hip checked Chelsea and bumped her shoulder against the younger woman until finally, she elicited a smile.
Once inside, Lola sent Chelsea off towards the cleaning supplies. “Go wild,” she’d instructed dryly, knowing that if nothing else it would give Chelsea a way to burn off whatever it was that was bugging her. Also, the RV would be spotless from top to bottom by the time she was done. Something wasn’t right with the younger woman, but it wasn’t the time to bring it up.
Lola hit the produce first. Despite the foods inability to last long, they’d been eating like shit for weeks. She wanted to try and cram as many nutrients into their systems as she could while they had the chance.
Helping Cliff with dinner had reminded her how much she enjoyed cooking. It had been a long time since she’d had anyone else to feed–not since David had moved out. She hadn’t cared much to bother with cooking for herself, but with Chelsea around it didn’t feel like such a waste.
As she wandered through the department, she had to stop herself from buying things she would have used in her old life. They just didn’t have the room or the means to cook a lot of it. Working her way through the list, and grabbing a few extra things along the way, Lola lost herself in the mundane task.
Meanwhile, Chelsea wasn’t nearly as enthused as she’d thought she would be working through her half of the list. Just knowing that she could get the RV into better shape was a relief, but she couldn’t seem to fully focus on the task.
Thoughts of her father and his upcoming wedding had been circling her head. She didn’t care that he was getting remarried–part of her was surprised he hadn’t done it years ago. The timing of it bothered her though.
Maybe it was selfish to think that he should put his life on hold when she was going through so much, but she couldn’t help being upset by it. Her life had exploded into more trouble and chaos than anyone could have predicted, but he was carrying on like usual. She’d a feeling that leaving him at that gas station, had done too much damage to their relationship to salvage it.
The choice had been an easy one to make, though. Even before she knew where it would lead. Going after Lola… there was no doubt in her mind that it was the right thing to do. No matter the cost. She had never felt so much loyalty towards a person before. Loyalty she knew her father should have felt towards her.
Checking both ends of the aisle she was on, she pulled her phone from her pocket. Looking down at the voicemail icon in the corner, she sighed. She hadn’t listened to it yet. Part of her didn’t want to tell Lola she’d even called him. It felt like some sort of betrayal to her, even though she knew Lola wouldn’t see it that way.
She’d only tried to call him once since Maxine had let them go. Chelsea didn’t even know why she still cared. If anything, the idea of picking a fight with him seemed more appealing than a conversation. She didn’t want to pick up the pieces, she just wanted him to see her. See who she was without him suffocating her.
Shoving the phone back into her pocket, she looked down at the list to check what was next and headed down the aisle. The message wasn’t from her father. She knew that much. It was his assistant calling–probably to politely tell her to fuck off. It was part of the reason she hadn’t listened to it yet. She wasn’t ready to admit defeat.
She skimmed the bottles of hair products, finally landing on the ones Lola had listed. Next to them was a set for color treated hair. She tilted her head, wondering once more if she should dye her hair. Fueled by adrenaline and rebellion, she headed towards the hair dye.
Lost in her own thoughts, Chelsea passed the dyes, back-stepped, and turned down the aisle. She straightened her shoulders and headed towards the redder tints. She remembered Lola’s reaction to her first choice and opted for something subtler. Picking up a box, she turned it to the side to look at the shading variations.
“Whatcha looking at?” Lola asked, smacking Chelsea playfully on the ass as she approached. She laughed heartily, as Chelsea squealed and jumped in surprise.
Turning around and glaring at her, Chelsea rubbed her ass. “That hurt!”
Lola gave her a disbelieving look and otherwise ignored the comment. “Still thinking about dying your hair?” she asked, looking at the box in Chelsea’s hands.
“I thought about it,” Chelsea admitted. She shrugged indifferently. “I don’t think it’s really me though.”
Praying that Chelsea would put the box back, Lola tried to stay supportive. “If you want to dye it, I’ll do it, but it’s going to take a lot to maintain your roots,” she said, skimming gentle fingers through locks of Chelsea's dark hair.
“What do you think?” the younger woman asked, holding the box up. It was a darker shade of auburn. She liked it, but she wasn’t completely sold on the idea of dying her hair. Her father had never let her, not that she’d asked more than the one time, and that wig they’d made her wear in witness protection had been awful.
It wasn’t a horrid shade. Lola had to admit it was better than “Flame Tree,” but she still had a feeling that this was more about her health than a disguise. Changing her hair color wasn’t going to change the diagnosis. It was only going to bring about a small feeling of relief that she would just come crashing down from. “I’m a bit partial to how it is now,” Lola teased. “You’re pretty cute the way you are.”
Taking the box from Chelsea’s hands, Lola put it back on the shelf and replaced it with the list. “Go hit paper goods. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” She smiled warmly as she saw the younger woman blush. “Go on,” she said when Chelsea didn’t move right away.
Once Chelsea was out of sight, Lola slid over to the makeup. She knew what she liked for herself, but Chelsea was a blank slate. Literally. She’d spotted the makeup the younger woman had added to the cart she was using–all nudes and naturals and not a bit of color. She couldn’t help herself and grabbed a few things she thought might look good on Chelsea.
Lola wasn’t particularly conscious of how she looked when they were on the run–like shit most days–but she did prefer to look more like her old self. She enjoyed dressing up, and after a small stint in a beauty salon, she’d always enjoyed playing around with different styles and looks.
Besides, a makeover might be just the distraction the younger woman needed. Much easier to wash her face than have to dye her hair back to its original color. Making her way through the rest of the department she gathered a small mountain of products.
Rolling her eyes at herself, she knew she needed to get back to Chelsea before she went overboard. She spotted a rack of makeup bags and dumped the contents into one. She fully intended to pay for them but didn’t want Chelsea seeing how much she’d picked up. She’d never hear the end of it.
Lola found Chelsea comparing sizes and prices of Ziplock bags. She rolled her eyes and grabbed three different sizes, tossing them in the cart. “Alright, let’s get out of here. You got everything?”
Chelsea’s eyes skimmed over the baskets, double checking. “I think so,” she said, nodding. “Yeah. That’s everything.” She followed Lola up to the front of the store.
As they stood in the checkout line, Chelsea’s eyes widened as she saw themselves on the cover of two tabloids. She nudged Lola subtly and nodded towards them.
Smirking at how horrible the resemblance was printed on the cheap newspaper, Lola picked one up. Even she barely recognized them. Grabbing the other one, and a handful of various magazines, she tossed them on the conveyor belt with the rest of their things.
Sensing Chelsea’s panic, she grabbed her hand, squeezed reassuringly, and whispered, “It’s fine, bet she doesn’t even notice.” She’d spent enough time working registers to know that after about twenty minutes on shift you hardly looked at what you were ringing up. Everything just became a blur.
“Dean,” the cashier said excitedly a few moments later. “These are the women I was telling you about.” She held up the tabloid for the young man to see. She looked back at Lola and explained how exciting she thought it all was.
Chelsea could feel herself nodding along with the story and hoped she didn’t look as panicked as she felt. Trying to look everywhere except at the cashier she accidentally made eye contact with the bagger, but he just nodded at her reassuringly. She had a distinct impression that he knew exactly who they were.
“You know,” the woman said, continuing to ring them up as she talked–a skill many checkout chicks lacked, “You girls kind of look like them.”
Lola laughed and dug through her wallet counting out cash. “We’ve been told that a few times actually.”
“It’s just all so romantic,” the cashier said, surprising them and Dean. She tutted at their disbelieving looks. “Oh, I don’t believe for a minute those two are dangerous. I’ve been around long enough to have instincts about these sorts of things. I’m just glad they haven’t gotten hurt.”
Dean laughed. “Well, they haven’t gotten caught yet either. Surprising too, with how familiar their faces have become to everyone,” he teased, winking at Lola, and laughing at Chelsea’s panicked look.
Lola just nodded at him, smirking. She turned back to the cashier when she announced their total and pulled out enough money to pay.
The cashier quickly counted it out and handed back the change. “Just imagine–on the run with your best friend. Surviving whatever happens next–dodging danger and conspiracy at every turn. And of course, outsmarting every villain along the way. It all sounds like a pretty grand adventure to me.”
With a genuine smile, Lola nodded in agreement. “I guess that does sound pretty amazing when you put it that way.” She glanced at Chelsea and flashed her a reassuring smile. “Well, I hope you two have a good afternoon,” she said, as they headed towards the exit.
The whole way back to the RV Chelsea prattled on about how panicked she’d been. Why had Lola bought those? Did Lola think that boy knew who they were because she thought he might? Did Lola think he would call the authorities?
She continued on, with the million other thoughts and questions that ran through her mind. None of which included her father or the lingering bad mood she’d had all afternoon.
Ignoring her questions, Lola led the way back to the RV. Despite her normally cautious nature, she was pretty confident neither of the workers would be calling the cops. Maybe the small thrill of danger was exactly what they’d needed. Chelsea seemed back to her normal self, and Lola felt more relaxed than she had in a long while.