FicWad

Author's notes: Alright, one thing that occurred to me about BMFM is that there's actually quite a lot of unanswered questions about the guys and their history - like, when did they meet, and how? Do Vinnie and Throttle have any family, and what happened to Modo's immediate relations? What about Modo's wife? Yes, he was apparently supposed to be married - she was going to be introduced in series four. This story will hopefully answer these and maybe a few more questions. Incidentally, my mind has got used to the idea of Modo being married to a mouse called Blue, and this is now the third story I have started with this character mentioned. I see no reason to change the name. Also, I don't know how old Carbine was supposed to be. I think she's older than Throttle. Anyone know otherwise?
I'm keeping the timeline up until four years previous to present day - my rough estimate for the Once Upon a Time on Mars episodes is three years ago. Modo and Throttle would be about twenty, Vinnie would be eighteen and Harley a year younger, so they look about right. For the purposes of this, Stoker is fifty-four at the present day. You see him first aged twenty-four, and probably looking quite fine, too.
NB: Some of the stuff in this story might contradict stuff as it was in canon. I apologise - if anyone can loan me the later two series so I can actually see this stuff, I will be forever grateful. ALSO: Names of mice are mostly lifted from the Used Bike Guide. Go buy one, it helps. Names of Martian bikes are made up.

BROTHERS IN ARMS

Mars, thirty years ago
'Intruder alert! West peremiter!' yelled the sentry, and the spotlight swivelled round to the approaching figure. But the stranger stopped, raised both hands and raised his face to the glare. He seemed to be having difficulty lifting his head.
Sergeant Serow lowered the telescope. 'I want an escort and a medic, we're going out there right now.'
'But sir-' began the sentry.
'But nothing. I am going to see with my own eyes if that's really Stoker.'
'Stoker?'
'Stoker!'
'/Stoker/!'
The word ran like wildfire around the camp and by the time Serow and his team were back everyone was buzzing with the news that Stoker, last heard of in the clutches of the infamous Dr Karbunkle, was home - alive! And in one piece! It was impossible!
When he came in, propped up between Corporal Scabbard and Flare the medic, there was a rousing cheer and the young mouse raised his head and smiled weakly.
'I'm home,' he murmured. 'Wunnerful.'
'Don't talk, Corporal Stoker,' said Flare. She raised her voice and said to the rest, 'No visitors till Ah say so, OK? He's had it bad.' There was a disappointed sigh, but Flare didn't relent, just turned Stoker to the nearest medibay. He gave no sign that he heard the murmur that rippled through the crowd, and then the door closed behind him.
'Alright, Sergeant, Ah'll take it from here,' said Flare, her voice allowing no argument. 'Ah'll report soon as there's something to report.'
Serow left. You didn't mess with the medics, especially one holding a syringe that size.
'What's that for?' said Stoker weakly.
'Local anaesthetic,' replied Flare. 'You need stitches. An' then you're dehydrated, malnourished an' exhausted an' you've lost a whole loada blood so Ah'm gonna give you a coupla drips an' leave you to go to sleep. An' you will go to sleep, boy - you can talk to your friends later.'
'Oh, man, I thought I'd escaped all the scientific fiddling.'
'This is all for your own good.'
'Yeah, he said that, too.'
Flare smiled. 'How 'bout "it's good to have you back. Welcome home"?'
Stoker managed a weak grin. 'Don't think he ever said that.'
'Well, welcome home, Stoke. Good to have you here. Now, let's have that arm...'

Twenty-two years ago
The first anyone heard of the stress in Flare and Trigger's marriage was when it shattered - loudly, dramatically and in public. The door of the family house fell open, releasing a cacophony of child's wails and Flare screaming at the top of her considerable lungs,
'-an' you didn't even have the decency to keep to your own /species/! If mah poor ole white-furred daddy had known Ah married a perverted, lyin', cheatin'-'
'Ah, shut up, you bitch,' yelled Trigger. 'If you'd only kept the standards up it wouldn't have happened, I-' He backed hastily into the street followed by a barrage of lazer fire.
'/Standards/?!' shrieked Flare. 'Ah give you a beautiful home an' two perfect children, you go off to a dirty rat whore an' then you talk to me 'bout /standards/?! Go back to your rat slut, you traitor, an' don't ya ever think you'll see the kids again.'
'But Momma...' wailed a voice from inside the house.
'Silver, go to your room, take Modo with you. Ah don't want no argument. Ah'll talk to you about this later.'
'Let me see my children!' shouted Trigger.
'So you can put your rat-lovin' evil in their heads?' yelled Flare. 'Over mah dead body. Get out. And don't think you're taking that bike!'
'/What/?! That's my /bike/, woman, I'll take it where I like.'
'So the rats can copy it? Ah don't think so.' Flare seemed to notice there were people watching for the first time, and caught the eye of a woman across the road. 'Hey, Powder - do me a favour an' go fetch Sergeant Serow. We c'n ask him if he thinks Trigger c'n take his bike with him to his rat slag.'
But Trigger had already gone, running out of the barracks on foot. Powder looked worriedly at Flare, who was still holding the blaster out in front of her with a trembling hand, her eyes glassy but just starting to crack.
'Flare?' she said. 'Honey, he's gone... Are you OK?'
Flare said nothing. The blaster started to shake, her lip trembled. Powder started to edge towards her, then someone said in her ear, 'Go and tell Serow. I'll deal with this.'
'Stoker?'
'The one and only. What are you waiting for? Move!'
Powder looked from Stoker's utter certainty to Flare's rapidly-diminishing self control, and ran. Stoker reached out slowly and turned the blaster towards the floor.
'Come on, Flare, there's no-one here you want to hurt with this thing. He's gone. Let it go. Thaaat's it.' Flare let go of the blaster and appeared to focus on Stoker for the first time.
'Stoker...' she whispered. 'Mah husband ran off with a /rat/...'
'I know, sweetie pie, I heard. You gave him what for all right. I'm proud of you, baby girl.'
'Don't call me that. Ah'm eight years older'n you.'
'Yeah, but right now, unless I'm much mistaken, you need babyin'. Come on, let's get you in off the street, this ain't no sideshow.' It said quite a lot for Flare's state of mind that she allowed Stoker to put an arm around her shoulders and lead her into the house. Normally she'd never have let him get so close. It said a lot for Stoker that he made no comment, just sat her down in the most comfortable chair he could see and started to make coffee.
'He actually told me,' said Flare in tones that suggested she didn't quite believe what she was saying. 'He came in an' he told me that he'd found another woman an' then when Ah said Ah just wanted him to be happy an' asked who it was, he said he was glad Ah'd said that because it was a rat! A /rat/! Ah've been such a doormat. Ah should've shot him years ago.'
'Now, that's stupid, Flare,' said Stoker, handing her the cup. She took it and clung to it like a lifeline. 'If you'd done that you'd not have those lovely kids of yours.'
Flare looked up, haunted. 'Oh... they saw the whole thing... What on Mars'm Ah gonna tell 'em?'
Stoker shrugged. 'Tell them the truth. Silver's old enough to understand. She's a bright girl. I mean, sure, you could make something up if they were both Modo's age but they're not.'
'What, tell 'em daddy ran off with a rat? That's sick.'
'Yeah. It is. A good thing to teach 'em, I'd've thought.'
'Um.' Flare gazed at her coffee cup for a long time, then appeared to realise it was there and took a drink. 'Ah loved him, Stoker. Ah loved him so much. He's given me two lovely children and now Ah gotta tell 'em that their daddy is evil an' perverted an' they can never see him again. An' if there was a way for me to let him know about it, so he could have his heart broken into itty bitty pieces too, Ah'd do it.'
'Only natural, sweetie.'
'But he ain't gonna see me break. Never. Ah'm a gonna bring up the finest mice in the cosmos and Ah'm gonna do it without /him/.'
Stoker smiled. 'Attagirl.'
'Will you do me a favour?'
'Anything.'
'Get rid of his bike for me. See it goes to someone who deserves it.'
'It'll be a pleasure.'
'Momma?' Both mice looked round. The silvery-grey teenager peeking through the crack in the door looked frightened, and much too small to be holding the infant in her arms. Stoker stood up and took the baby from her.
'Heya, pet,' he said. 'How long've you been there?'
'Ah ain't been listening!' said Silver.
'OK, honey, I believe you.'
'Come here, darlin',' said Flare, holding out her arms. Silver ran to her and hugged her tightly.
'Momma, what happened to daddy? What was all that shoutin' about?'
Behind her, Stoker closed his eyes. Crunch time...
'Daddy's gone,' said Flare. 'He... he don't want us no more.'
'But momma, he said he wanted-'
'Silvie,' said Flare. 'Tell your momma what you know about rats.'
'Rats're dirty,' said Silver. 'Evil. Traitors to Mars.'
'That's right. An' people who hang out with rats don't get to hang out with real people, do they?'
''Course not. Everybody knows that.'
'Daddy decided he'd rather hang out with rats than with us. He said you might want a rat for a momma better'n me. You don't, do you?'
'Oh, momma, 'course not!' Silver sounded horrified.
'So now it's just you an' me an' baby Modo, an' Uncle Stoker's gonna take daddy's bike away 'cause people who hang out with rats don't get cool things like motorbikes.'
'Oh.' Silver sounded disappointed. 'But Ah like that bike.'
'Yeah, but you've got your own bike,' said Stoker. 'You don't want two. I mean, yeah, maybe you do, but you don't get 'em. That's greedy.'
A couple of hours later, when Silver and Modo were both in bed, Flare finally let the tears flow, crying silently into Stoker's shoulder while he stroked her hair and thought that if he had anything to do with it, Trigger's children would grow up to hate rats to the bottom of their souls.