The Chauffeur Chapter Two - I Will Be With Her Tonight

Summary: Bianca becomes the subject of a rumor in the hospital– that a ghost is haunting the hospital during her shifts. Despite this annoying setback, she thinks of Driver and wants to find him to confess her feelings. Little does she know, they are chasing each other in circles.

Rating: Mature, 18+

Media: Drive (2011)

Pairing: Driver/Bianca Andretti (oc)

Word Count: ~6.6k

CW: Hospitals, medical, needles, blood (mentioned, not described), stalking (not in a bad way), voyeurism, mild NSFW (nothing explicit), alcohol, death (very briefly mentioned, not described), psychosis (character mentions having hallucinations)

…

It's been days since the mysterious man known to her only as Driver had walked up to her at the table at Mary Mae's. They'd listened to music and sat together, and then he even drove her to work. Why she trusted him to do this, Bianca did not know. Other than the fact that he was gorgeous and had a cute personality– at least, what he showed of it– what reason did Bianca have to actually spend time with the guy, to get in a car with him?

Their meeting was probably just a fluke. A one time thing. This is LA, where you can meet a person and never see them again in your life. Who's to say she'll ever encounter Driver again? And even if she does, who says he wants to see her?

The image of Driver in his car, smiling with a toothpick in his grin, it won't leave her mind. Bianca can't stop thinking of this man, and she curses herself for having such a photographic memory. She can still see every detail of his face– from the bump in the bridge of his nose to the little mole just below his eye– and it's driving her crazy. No pun intended.

As she heads out the door for work this morning, she comes across a bag with Japanese writing on it sitting on her porch, and inside is the Sailor Mars figure she couldn't afford and a Cinnamoroll keychain. She has no clue where it came from, since the only person who knew about it would be Bennett, but why would Bennett leave a gift on her doorstep instead of just giving it to her?

Not wanting to waste the gift, despite the ambiguity of its source, Bianca takes it back into the entrance of her home and places the bag on the stairs, then locks the door behind herself and heads to the bus stop. She continues to think of who could give her the figure and keychain. Some stranger from Little Tokyo? A random act of kindness? Or maybe it was Bennett. She does have a habit of being spontaneous sometimes. But that's unlikely.

When she arrives at work, Bianca clocks in and heads over to the nurse's station in the ER. She absently clicks a pen, trying to clear her mind. Maybe if she thinks of nothing, it will keep her mind off Driver and the random gift. Thinking of nothing is hard to do, which is why she's never been good at meditating. Her mind goes a million miles a minute, and it's hard to slow down.

Finally managing to focus all her mind power on the clicking of the pen, Bennett approaches and drops a clipboard onto the counter.

“We've got a patient,” she says, “Julie was helping me admit him, but the guy's vomiting profusely and it made her vomit, so I'm kicking her off the case and bringing you on.”

Bianca nods and sighs, standing up to join Bennett. “Great. Vomiting, what are we thinking on this one?”

Bennett sighs and clicks her tongue as they walk to their patient's bay. “Not sure. He's complaining of LRQ pain so it could be a number of things.”

“Kidney stones, appendicitis, diverticulitis…” Bianca mutters.

“You don't have to list every possible condition,” Bennett laughs. “C'mon, go get an IV started on him.”

Internally, Bianca cringes at this. The last IV she did was what would be referred to as a “gusher,” and had splattered blood all over her scrubs, to the point she had to go through the exposure protocol. Hopefully, this time the patient would be an easy stick.

Using the hand sanitizer dispenser outside the bay, Bianca cleanses her hands as she walks past the curtain to view the patient.

“Hi there! My name’s Bianca, I’m going to be your nurse today. You’ve been vomiting and have some abdominal pain, is that right?”

The patient nods. “Yeah, it’s right here.” He gestures to his lower right quadrant.

“Alright,” Bianca says, “well, all that throwing up has certainly dehydrated you, so we’re gonna get an IV started on ya, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, I’m not scared of needles. Go ahead.”

Bianca heads for the back of the room to shuffle through the drawers for IV supplies. Luckily, someone had already brought in a bag of saline, so she wouldn’t have to go to the pharmacy. After collecting all the supplies, Bianca applies more hand sanitizer and slips on a pair of gloves, then sits down to begin inserting the IV catheter.

…

It was risky. So, so risky. He’d get kicked out if he got caught. Arrested, maybe. Whatever the outcome of him being seen would be, it would certainly be bad.

But he can’t help it. Driver has to see Bianca in action at work. So he heads into the hospital, sneaking through doors only employees should have access to, skulking around in search of the object of his affection. Finally, hidden in the shadows of a closet containing oxygen cylinders, Driver finds a spot that he can see Bianca from– through the gaps in the curtains of her patient’s bay, he has a clear view of her.

She’s sitting on a stool at the patient’s side, scrubbing his arm, which has a tourniquet tied onto it. An IV, he thinks, and focuses more intently on Bianca’s hands. Even covered by nitrile gloves, they are as delicate as ever, working to feel for a vein, to insert the needle, to pull it out and push the catheter in simultaneously, to place adhesives over it so it stays put. All of her movements are deliberate and gentle, and Driver knows receiving an IV from her would be painless and easy.

He watches as she tosses away the trash from the IV into the sharps bin and the garbage, depending on the item, then adjusts the drip of the IV line. She’s skilled at this too, he thinks. How does she know how far to roll the clamp to adjust the rate? So smart, he praises her in his mind. Such a skilled nurse.

Next, she begins taking a set of vitals from the patient. Driver can’t help but be jealous as she places the pulse oximeter on the patient’s finger, how she places a cold stethoscope on his chest and back and stomach. He feels even more jealous as Bianca palpates the patient’s abdomen, though he doesn’t wish to have the same pain the patient has, as he howls in pain when she touches him. Ungrateful, Driver thinks. Bianca is calming him down, using a gentle voice and gentle touches. Driver’s leather gloves squeak as he forms a fist.

That should be him.

Not the sickness, not the pain, but the tactile and auditory sensations of Bianca's caring presence. Or, maybe, a fantasy to rewind time– coming into the hospital after being stabbed by Bernie, only to be treated by beautiful miss Bianca. How easily she'd treat his wound, closing it with love in each suture, humming reassuring words that settle like heavy warmth in his chest, a feather-soft touch of nitrile-clad fingertips against his skin sending shivers throughout his whole body.

Driver is angry that this didn't happen. That he'd gone to one of his “friends” who could close him up with staples, nothing gentle about it. Not a soft voice guiding him, not touches that felt like for once in his life he'd been cared for. Not like what he imagined Bianca would have done.

Continuing to watch as Bianca tends to the patient, he notices Bennett return and exchange words with her. Bianca nods and Driver watches as she fetches a wheelchair from the hall and takes it into the bay, helps the patient into it, and adjusts his IV line and bag so they are on a pole attached to the chair. She pushes him down the hall, and as she gets more and more distant, Driver panics.

He manages to slip out of the oxygen storage without being seen, and makes his way through the empty, unlit bays on that side of the hall. Barely opening the curtains, just enough to slide through, not enough to crinkle them to the point someone would notice. Through each bay he sneaks, unseen, until he reaches one holding a patient.

Driver is dead silent, stiff as a board. The patient is an elderly lady, half asleep, whose eyes slowly look up at him. Her mouth opens, and a shaky hand points, but Driver just presses a gloved fingertip to his lips and slips away, back into an empty bay. The old woman says nothing.

Managing to weave through thankfully unoccupied bays, Driver reaches the end of the line. He waits for an opening before going into an office without a door lock, without anyone inside, and quietly makes his way to the door inside of it, leading to a storage room. Inside are lead vests and collars, contrast dye sets, and more things labeled for radiology– he must be getting close. He could only assume Bianca was headed there to scan the patient.

Out that door, he emerges into the dark halls of the radiology wing, and hides in an empty ultrasound room for a moment, watching as Bianca takes the patient into a room labeled “CT.” Though faint, he can hear her say to the patient–

“I'm going to go while you get your picture taken, okay? Dr Bennett will be back to get you.”

Eyes wide, Driver ducks further into the ultrasound room, standing in the shadows, and he watches Bianca leave. He follows her in a similar way that he came, although he takes a detour from the patient who had seen him. Ironically, Bianca enters that patient's bay. A lump settles in his throat and he decides he should leave– he shouldn't take any more risks…at least not for now.

Sneaking out of the ER through another employee door, he rushes back to his Malibu, hands in his pockets, cursing himself for being careless enough to be seen. Hopefully, that patient says nothing. Driver goes home and waits, he waits for Bianca to come home.

…

“Ma'am, calm down,” Bianca says cautiously, holding up her hands. “I'm sure you didn't see a ghost.”

The elderly woman shakes her head and points at Bianca. “No, I saw him! He was tall, he wore…white clothes! They had blood on them! And oh, his eyes! Piercing blue! He motioned for me to keep quiet, and then he disappeared! It was a ghost, I have no doubt!”

Bianca sighs and tries hard not to roll her eyes. “Ma'am, I assure you, there are no such things as ghosts. Especially not in our hospital. Now, can we get to your chart? You said you fell down and hit your head. Have they taken you to imaging yet?”

She shakes her head. “No, no imaging…but this ghost, I know that ghost is going to follow me, and he's going to take me with him! To the grave!”

“Mrs…” Bianca checks the chart, “...Hudson, that's not going to happen. I guarantee it. I'm going to ask the doctor if you have any orders for imaging, and if you do, we're going to head over there, okay?”

Mrs Hudson nods. “Imaging…okay. As long as that spirit doesn't follow us.”

Bianca barely disguises a scoff as she disappears beyond the curtain, back into the hallway. She sees Bennett exit the previous patient's bay, and approaches her.

“Thanks for tacking on another patient to my schedule,” Bianca says sarcastically, “this one thinks she saw a fucking ghost and won't shut up about it.”

Bennett snorts. “A ghost?”

“Yeah. Bloody white clothes and piercing blue eyes, she says to me. Typical description of a ghost.”

With a shrug, Bennett flips through a folder. “Well, she does have a head injury from her fall. Which, by the way…” She produces papers from the folder– imaging orders.

“Great,” Bianca replies with sarcasm. “Am I just gonna be running people back and forth to imaging all day? Is that your plan for me?”

“Can't help it if that's what the patients need,” Bennett answers, heading back down the hall towards the bays. “Our other guy’s got kidney stones, by the way. Dr Sunderland confirmed it.”

“You see the scans?” Bianca asks, walking with her superior.

Bennett nods. “Yep. Poor guy’s urinary tract looked like a beach– small stones like sand, big ones like shells. I'm sending him for lithotripsy. No way some of those are passing on their own.”

“Damn,” Bianca exhales, eyes wide. “Him screaming when I palpated was not an exaggeration. Alright, so Hudson's getting an MRI?”

“Can't you read?” Bennett asks playfully. “Yeah. I'm gonna go deliver the news to our first patient and get him sent to outpatient. You have fun with Ghost Adventures over there.”

“Ha ha,” Bianca laughs mockingly, pushing a wheelchair into Mrs Hudson's bay. “Hi, Mrs Hudson. Doctor's orders say you're getting an MRI. I'm going to take you down there, and the technician there is gonna get you all taken care of.”

Mrs Hudson shrinks away as Bianca goes to help her into the wheelchair. “An MRI? Can MRI see a ghost, if it's there?”

Thinking on the spot, Bianca smiles. “Actually, the magnets in the machine repel ghosts. So you'll be safe and sound, no spirits to bother you.”

The old woman seems relieved. “Oh, thank God. Take me there, then. Take me to the MRI!”

Bianca's smile turns genuine. “Of course. Let's go.”

…

One trip to the MRI zone later, and Bianca returns to the nursing station. Weirdly, a radiology technician is hovering around, looking nervous.

“Hey, what's up?” Bianca asks. “You look off.”

She scoffs. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Dr Sunderland didn't.”

Bianca braces herself for another stupid ghost story. “Try me.”

“I think…I saw a ghost.”

Hissing through her teeth, Bianca puts her head in her hand. “My patient just said the same thing, and she had a head injury. What's your excuse?”

The technician is taken aback. “Um…well…look, I saw a guy in white with bloodstains on his clothes. He was there one minute, gone in a second. I can't explain that as anything more than a ghost.”

“That's the same exact description Mrs Hudson gave me,” Bianca sighs. “Are you guys in on some kind of joke?”

“Wh-what?”

“Are you fucking with me?” Bianca asks, annoyed and tired. “A ghost? That you both described with the exact description? Specifically to me? Is this a prank or some shit?”

The technician shakes her head. “No, I don't even know who Mrs Hudson is…all I know is I saw a figure with white, bloody clothes and it was here and then not.”

“You probably just saw something in your peripherals,” Bianca responds, now updating the first patient's digital chart to say he's going to outpatient. “There's no such thing as ghosts.”

“You're right,” the technician says with a shaky exhale. “No such thing as ghosts. Just something in my peripherals.”

Bianca nods. “Yes. So calm down, okay? Patients don't like it when you're nervous.”

The technician gives an awkward smile. “Yeah. True. Thank you, Bianca.”

“No problem. Just…you and everyone else here, chill out.”

After the technician departs, Bianca continues to update her first patient's digital chart on the computer. She looks at the CT scan that was taken and winces at the kidney stones filling his urinary tract– Bennett was right. Poor guy.

She spends the rest of the time that Mrs Hudson is getting her MRI fixing up the digital charts, until the MRI technician pushes the patient back out to meet her.

“Dr Wheeler is already certain she's got something neurological going on,” the MRI technician tells Bianca. “She's having delusions.”

Bianca nods. “Yeah, the ghost thing.”

The technician shakes his head. “Oh, no, I believe her on that. I saw him, too. Skulking around the ultrasound rooms.”

Grabbing him by a fistful of his scrubs and yanking him aside, Bianca stands nose to nose with the technician. “Listen, you know what the professional thing to do with delusions is. Don't encourage them, but don't dismiss them. I told her MRIs repel ghosts. That's the happy medium. Did you tell her something that contradicts that?”

“N-no, she told me you said that, and I agreed, her delusions weren't the ghost thing. She kept thinking I was her son. I didn't challenge it nor play it up– I just didn't use names. Can you let me go?”

“No!” Bianca hisses. “You are the third person to bring up that ghost thing to me, and I'm convinced it's all a big joke. Do you guys think you're fucking funny? Because it isn't funny, so stop it!”

The technician tries to back away. “Whoa, Bianca, I've never seen you so aggressive…look, the fact that all three of us have seen the ghost must mean it's real, right? You just haven't seen it, so you don't believe.”

She shoves him back, releasing his scrub top from her fist. “You and that ultrasound tech are just seeing things in your peripherals, and Mrs Hudson has a head injury and is experiencing delusions. Simple as that. There's no ghost.”

“Whatever you say,” the MRI technician says as he departs, “the ghost is gonna come for you next.”

Having to physically hold her hand shut so she doesn't flip him off, Bianca grits her teeth. If one more person mentions a ghost to her again, she just might snap. She turns to Mrs Hudson with a smile and takes the handles of the wheelchair.

“Are you ready to get back to your bed, Mrs Hudson?” Bianca asks in her friendly voice.

“Yes, now that the MRI has gotten the spirit away,” Mrs Hudson replies. She sounds much calmer than before.

“Good,” Bianca replies with a smile, and pushes her back to her bay. She helps her into bed and tucks her in, then begins to update her paper chart. “We'll just be waiting on the results of your scan now. Just sit tight, alright?”

Mrs Hudson nods. Bianca then leaves and heads to the nurse's station to wait. Dr Wheeler will send the MRI scan when he's determined the results, and that could take a while, so Bianca spends her time tidying up the nursing station until Bennett inevitably approaches her with a new task.

About an hour passes before Bennett arrives, resting her arm on the counter. “Anymore accounts of this supposed ghost?” She asks.

Bianca groans. “That one MRI tech with the beard was saying he saw the ghost in the ultrasound rooms. Stupid. Anyways, did Wheeler get back to you with Hudson's results?”

Bennett nods. “Yeah, and it's urgent. I need you to take her to surgery. MRI shows a hemorrhagic stroke, and it's bad. Meds ain't gonna cut it on this one.”

Suddenly in true emergency mode, Bianca nods and runs off with Bennett to Mrs Hudson's bay, and immediately begin preparing to move her.

…

At the end of the day, Bianca is exhausted. She worked hard to take care of all of her patients, and worrying for them– Mrs Hudson luckily lived through surgery and is recovering. One other thing that exhausted her was that damn ghost story. It had to be a joke, one specifically on her, otherwise people wouldn't be specifically harassing her about it.

Whatever, she thinks, kicking off her hospital sneakers in her doorway, nearly hitting the bag of gifts from that morning. Oh, the bag. She'd forgotten all about it. She should've asked Bennett, but the thought hadn't crossed her mind all day. Not with the stupid ghost story going on all day.

Grabbing the bag and heading upstairs to the living space, she places it on the table and immediately heads for the shower. It's a quick and easy shower, because she honestly just wants to sit down and have a drink. Exiting the bathroom in boxer shorts and an old Metallica t shirt, she does just this, cracking open a Mike's Hard Lemonade and flopping down on the couch.

…

Across the way, back in that dark apartment, Driver enjoys his own drink. He watches as Bianca drinks, and he drinks. Driver wants to sexualize her lips on the bottle again, but he can't. There are other plans on his mind for tonight. They don't necessarily involve anything sexual, but if they are to turn that way, he doesn't want to have wasted all his stamina on a pathetic session of self pleasure.

Time passes and he watches– Bianca does nothing of interest that night. Downing several bottles of alcohol and lazing on the couch. Driver wonders if she's upset. He also wonders about the gift he left her, and it's almost as if their minds are connected, as she stands up and heads to the bag sitting on the table.

Bianca pries open the box containing the Sailor Mars figure gently with her fingers, and pulls the figure free from the plastic. She turns it around in her hand, smiling, and places it gingerly on the table while placing the box beneath it, likely to save it for collecting purposes. Next, she takes the Cinnamoroll keychain and smiles at it, too, as she dangles it in front of her own face, like a baby laughing at their parent's keys. Driver smiles when Bianca clips it on her purse.

She then returns to the couch, leaning against her hand and smiling like an idiot. Driver wonders if she knows he gave it to her. Nearly impossible for her to think of him as the gift giver, but she is a smart girl, so it's not entirely impossible. Then again, she is clearly drunk, so maybe that's what the giggling and smiling is from.

…

The night goes on, and eventually Bianca retires for the night, all the lights in the townhouse going off. Driver swallows hard and places a toothpick into his mouth before opening the door to his apartment. His eyes flick across the street and back– no cars, no people. Easy access.

He crosses the street, hands shoved in his pockets and head down. Once more, he climbs the fire escape, but not the one from the night before– the one that leads to Bianca's kitchen. And like before, he's nearly silent on those metal steps. He's even quiet when he goes another step forward and begins to pry open the window with none other than his trusted hammer.

Once the window is open, he climbs like it's the window of a stock car, but carefully avoids stepping on anything loud. Inside, he's even quieter on the linoleum and the soft carpet. Driver suddenly finds himself in need of liquid courage, so he slowly opens the refrigerator and fetches a can of Coors– unlike her to drink something so utterly flavorless.

As he crosses the living room, he cracks it open slowly so that it doesn't make too much noise. He takes a long drink of it and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then begins to look around the house. There's the figure, displayed in all its glory. A bookshelf lined with medical textbooks next to her couch, a spot in the corner where she tends to curl up having been worn into the cushion. There are still empty bottles all over the place, on the coffee table and entertainment center.

In the hallway, he sees two doors. One goes to the bathroom, and one to the bedroom, he can tell because of his view through the other window the previous night. Before stepping close to the bedroom door, he downs the rest of the beer.

Behind it, he can hear her sheets ruffling, and his eyes widen. He presses his back against the wall and tries to be quiet, hoping she won't come out. Or does he secretly hope she will? And if she does, will she enter the hallway angry? Scared? Relieved it's him? Will she attack him? Scream at him? Confess to him?

That last one…he's far too focused on it. It's the least likely thing that would happen, but God, does he want it to. He crunches down on his toothpick and places his hands against the door, hoping so much that she would come out and see him. Driver also finds himself unnecessarily aroused. He's hard, uncomfortably so, and presses himself against the door to relieve some of the need for friction.

The ever so slightly groan that escapes him seems to catch the attention of Bianca. He can hear her shuffling around in bed, her breathing becoming more rapid and labored. Shit.

“Fuck off!” She screams, and he jumps away from the door. Does she know he’s there?!

Driver backs up, still quiet on the floor. He has to leave, now. Get the Hell out of here. He's made a huge mistake in coming here, and makes his way back to the window. Once more jumping through it like a stock car, he stands on the fire escape for just a few more seconds.

“Oh, you're gonna keep me up tonight?!” He hears Bianca scream. “I took an extra fucking antipsychotic, and you're still here?!”

Wait…she's talking to a hallucination. Not him. Bianca experiences psychosis, Driver thinks. That must be what one of those pills she takes are for. This reassures him a bit, and he closes the window completely, then returns to his apartment.

Back at his place, Driver thinks about Bianca. She either thought his visit was a hallucination, or it triggered one, and either way, he feels bad. He throws his hammer on the ground and kicks the chair, toppling it over. How could he do something like this? Even if it was an accident, it's awful.

Slamming open the refrigerator, Driver fetches a beer and cracks it open, downing it in practically seconds, then tosses the bottle on the floor and slams the door shut. He stomps off to the bedroom and kicks his shoes off before throwing himself on the bed and forcing himself to stop thinking of Bianca and going into a restless sleep.

…

“I am sick of these fucking ghost stories!”

The next day, Bianca is harassed by more employees and patients who are seeing the “ghost.” The same description each time– white clothes with bloodstains, blue eyes, tall. She has to bite her tongue each time a patient brings it up, and hold back a fist at each coworker who does the same.

“Maybe if you see the ghost for yourself, you'll start believing,” Bennett says, toying with a pen on the desk of the nurse's station. “I didn't believe at first, but I finally saw it.”

Bianca clenches her jaw. “Where? Where did you see the ghost, Bennett? Huh? Where?!”

Bennett is taken aback. “Jesus, why are you so touchy today?”

She throws the file in her hands onto the desk and grips her head in her hands. “Because, Bennett! I'm so sick of the fucking ghost stories! Can't you all just take some antipsychotics and realize you're all fucking delusional?! I'm not the only crazy one here, clearly, so why don't you take a fucking pill like I have to every night?! Accept that you're fucking hallucinating! Christ!”

She slams her hands into the desk as she gets up to leave, then stomps off down the hall to the bathroom. Inside, she locks the door and leans her back against it, sliding down and sobbing into her hands. After the night of hallucinations annoying her and the day of everyone insisting their hallucinations are real, she can't stand it anymore.

“Fuck!” Bianca sobs into her palms. “I'm so sick of things that aren't fucking real!”

Standing up and glaring at her makeup-stained face in the mirror, Bianca resists slamming a fist into it.

“You know what's real?” Bianca asks, lowly, shakily. “Driver. Driver is fucking real. And holy fucking shit do I wish he'd come take me away from here.”

It sinks in, what she's just said. Of all things to be thinking about, Bianca has Driver on her mind. She bites her lip and takes her hands away from the sink before turning on the faucet and splashing cool water on her face. After dabbing her face dry and wiping away a bit of messy makeup, Bianca inhales and exhales hard, tosses the paper towel, and leaves the bathroom with a brave face.

Until she sees him.

“What the fuck?!” Bianca screams, frozen in place.

There is the “ghost,” the tall man with white, bloodstained clothes and blue eyes. Except this is not a ghost, his clothes consist of a white satin jacket which does have bloodstains but also jeans, and along with those blue eyes are a beautiful nose and sweet lips closed around a toothpick and slightly messy dirty blond hair.

“What are you doing here?!” She asks, her voice rough with emotion.

As she's about to run up and grab him by that damn jacket, suddenly the intercom sounds.

“Code Blue in ER Bay 5, Code Blue in ER Bay 5,” says the intercom.

“Shit!” Bianca hisses, eyeing Driver and then running down the hall, back to the ER bays to take care of the code.

When she looks back over her shoulder, he's gone.

…

The shift is over, and Bianca has been on edge all throughout. Being annoyed by ghost stories all day, finally seeing this “ghost” and learning it's Driver of all people, experiencing a code before she could confront him, and losing that patient who was coding, they all nearly sent her over the edge.

Driver is not who she thinks he is. He had been sneaking around the hospital, so much so to start a ghost rumor, and it was clearly to stalk her. Bianca doesn't know if this is flattering or enraging. She feels…honored that he wants to see her so badly he'd follow her to work. But she also feels…sickened at the thought that he was crazy enough to do something like that.

It's in the parking lot that she sees him, through the window so he cannot see her back– he's sitting in his Malibu, punching the steering wheel. Does he feel remorse for this? Bianca knits her eyebrows and decides to follow him. But she can't just do so on the bus or in a taxi.

“Bennett, can you drive me home tonight?” She asks her friend and coworker as she's exiting the hospital.

Bennett nods. “Uh, yeah, sure. You've had it rough today, I'll take you home. Let's go.”

The two get into Bennett's car, but Bianca's eyes don't leave the Malibu. She grits her teeth before pointing at it.

Confused, Bennett half-laughs. “Bianca, why are you pointing?”

“Follow that car.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

Bianca glares at Bennett. “I said follow it.”

The other blonde shrugs and waits on the Malibu to pull out of the hospital lot and onto the road. Bennett follows behind, slowly and inconspicuously. The route it takes seems to be to Santa Monica…

“Oh my God,” Bennett says, “what if he's going to your house?”

“Then I'll beat his ass when I get there.”

That's a lie– Bianca wouldn't dare hurt Driver. Even if he had freaked her out with his behavior, she couldn't see herself actually harming him. Not even if he hurt her first. She's angry, sure, but not enough to hurt him.

The car changes course, ever so slightly. It doesn't go to Bianca's house, no– the apartments across from her.

“Holy fucking shit,” Bennett says, stunned, “he's your neighbor.”

A thick lump of saliva develops in her mouth and sticks in her throat when she tries to swallow. The apartment Driver enters is not only in a complex across from her townhouse, his apartment itself is directly across. He could easily see in her big window if he so chose. Bianca bites her lip and exhales shakily as Bennett pulls into her driveway.

“Are you sure you want to go home?” Bennett asks. “I'll go in with you, so–”

She holds up a hand as she exits the car. “No. I'm fine. Just go home.”

Bennett cocks her head to the side. “Bianca, I'm worried. Please let me at least walk you in.”

Shaking her head and slamming the door, Bianca says, muffled by the car door, “I'm fine. Get out of here.”

The doctor shrugs and drives off, leaving Bianca to duck into her house quickly. The lights in Driver's apartment aren't on yet, so hopefully he hasn't resumed watching her. She doesn't even bother taking off her germ-infested work clothes and shoes, and crouches at one of the lower floor windows. No lights on.

Bianca is going to wait on him. She's going to wait for him to leave, and then she's going to go to his apartment. See how he likes it. It's all come together that the so-called “hallucination” from the previous night was nothing more than him having the audacity to go into her home. It makes her head hurt.

Does she want to cry? And why does she? Happy and angry fight to be the dominant emotion in her brain. Happy he likes her that much, angry he'd violate her privacy. Satisfied with herself for being so “desirable,” furious with herself for being so careless.

It takes a while, but eventually, Driver comes out of his apartment, and Bianca's eyes brighten. As he gets into his car and drives off, to God knows where, Bianca runs over to the storage closet where her toolbox is. Out of it, she plucks a screwdriver, a yellow Phillips head. Sharp enough to penetrate, to defend, but not enough to kill. Just in case, she reminds herself.

Once she's sure Driver is gone, Bianca runs across the street and reaches his apartment. Of course, like any sensible person, he's locked it, but Bianca isn't above dismantling things to get her way. With speed and precision rivaled only by a NASCAR pit crew, Bianca disassembles the hinges of the door and slides it out of the way, then goes inside.

In the house, Bianca unlocks the door, then returns outside and screws it back onto its hinges. Back in the unlocked house, she locks it behind her, and is now free to explore.

As expected, it's an unremarkable place– beige, brown, white, plain and boring. She notes that there's a chair right at the window, and on the floor beside it is a pair of binoculars– Bianca swallows hard when she sees this sight.

The only door in the house leads to the bedroom, and she doesn't consider herself above going inside. Oddly, there's a bowl on the dresser, and inside are several IDs, each with his face on it but different names. Of course he uses fake IDs, she scoffs to herself. He goes by the name “Driver,” who knows what his real name is?

Poking around his room, Bianca also finds a hammer. A hammer with bloodstains on it. In one hand, she holds a screwdriver, and wonders about herself having such a similar thought process to him– a typical tool one would find in a hardware store, used as a weapon.

Another interesting thing she finds is a plastic bin full of flip phones– burner phones, clearly. But one that stands out is a hot pink Motorola Razr, a red sticker in the shape of a heart placed on it. Curious, Bianca pulls it out of the bucket and flips it open. It's on, unlike a burner phone should be, and as she clicks through it, she finds that it has no contacts, no history of calls or texts– however, there is a photo. One single photo.

And it's of her. Sleeping in bed. Based on the outfit she's wearing, it’s from a day ago.

“Jesus…” Bianca gasps, flipping the phone shut and tossing it back in with the rest.

She decides that she's had enough exploring for one night, and she'd come say a “friendly” hello the next day. Confront him about what he's been doing. Being in his apartment won't do her any good now.

As she heads for the exit, she suddenly feels a hand on her shoulder, and whips around with the screwdriver in her hand wielded like a knife. She backs away, eyes wide and pulse fast and heavy and loud in every bit of her body. Her head, her heart, her fingertips.

There he is, his blue eyes seeming to glow in the dim lights that the outside provides through the windows. They're intently focused on her. He's chewing on a toothpick, lips closed in a neutral expression around it, and while one hand rests on her shoulder, the other is shoved in his pocket.

“Why do you keep following me?!” Bianca cries, though she doesn't move.

Driver stares at her for a moment, removing his hand from her shoulder and putting it in his other pocket.

“....this is my house,” he says flatly.

Bianca groans in frustration. “Yeah, but you've been following me everywhere! To work, to Little Tokyo, to my house! Isn't it only fair I get to do the same?”

He ponders this with a tilt of the head. “I guess. I'm sorry if I freaked you out, Bianca.”

She scoffs incredulously. “You're sorry. Why did you even do it, Driver? Or whatever the fuck your name is?”

Driver's eyes soften on her. “‘Cause I like you. I wanted to see you.”

Her eyes soften, too. The grip on the screwdriver in her hand loosens, and she sighs. “Then why didn't you just come say hi? Approach me during the day?”

“...I didn't think you'd want me to.”

Another scoff. “And you thought I'd be more accepting of stalking? Jesus Christ, Driver…”

There's silence between them for a moment. They maintain eye contact, but it's neutral, or at least it seems to be– she's not angry anymore. She's…relieved. The happiness, the flattery, it's won over the rage. He wanted to see her.

“I've been thinking about you nonstop since we met,” he admits, shyly averting his gaze. “I just…”

“I've been doing the same,” Bianca tells him, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, “but I'd never think of following you around like this. You should've talked to me directly, Driver. I wanted you to.”

A smile cracks on his lips. “Can we talk now?”

Bianca sighs hard and tosses the screwdriver to the floor, plucks the toothpick from his lips and does the same with it, and pulls him into a kiss. It's a sweet kiss– pure lips, no tongue, gentle and innocent. Her hands reach around the back of his head and her fingers run through his dirty blond hair.

Driver's gloved hands settle at the small of her back, pulling her closer. He savors this moment, a moment he'd only dreamed of, and gently nuzzles his nose against hers as they kiss. Bianca moans into his lips and tries to pull him closer, her nails digging into his scalp. His grip becomes harsher on her, too, his fingertips pressing into her flesh so hard they may leave bruises.

They eventually pull apart to breathe, though the tips of their noses still touch. Although it's the perfect opportunity, Driver doesn't kiss her again– he pulls away his face, but keeps his hands firm against her back. Bianca rakes her fingers through his hair and smiles up at him, blinking slowly.

“Yeah, we can talk now.”