CHAPTER EIGHT : CHASING THE WIND

CHICKASHA, OKLAHOMA

IT AIN'T TOUGH TO REALIZE JAVI AND SCOTT CAUGHT THE ENITRE THING. They're standing at the edge of the lot with Kate now, watching as Willow makes her way back across the field, determined not to look back despite the heat of Tyler's gaze still on her. She can already sense the questions brewing in Javi's mind, and as for Scott—well, whatever he's dealing with in his own emotionally constipated way is a mystery. Right now, she decides, the only explanations she'll give will be to Kate, after a good chase and a cold beer.

She leaves no room for comment or question, glancing over at Kate and breaking the tension. "You already tell 'em?"

Before Kate can respond, Javi answers, "Cells to the west," taking the tablet from Willow as she passes it back. He gives her a quick nod. "Loud and clear."

Scott, with his arms crossed over his chest, clearly skeptical, raises an eyebrow. "I thought you were supposed to be more into the data," he challenges and pops his gum again. "The one to the east has the better numbers, you know."

Willow's brow furrows and she shakes her head slightly, more to herself than anyone else. "The conditions don't feel right," she says. "Cap is too strong; whatever the numbers suggest won't matter when it'll never break."

Javi, smiling with pride, nudges Scott's shoulder. "I told you—they're best of the best," he says, a glint of adrenaline in his eyes. He gestures towards the only pick-up truck in the fleet. "Will, Kate, you're with me."

Willow lets Kate take shotgun, figuring they'll have chances to trade off throughout the week. As she slides into the back seat, she takes in the interior. It isn't much different from the SUV she rode in, but it's so not Javi.—tricked out with a full laptop setup attached to the console, kept clean and sleek. It ain't nothing close to the old van with the bare bones set-up they scraped by with, carrying clunky old DOROTHY on its trailer. They were lucky enough to survive the backroads in those things, rattling under the slightest of winds, but it was homegrown. 

(That was the kind of chasing she'd grown up on—weathered hands, duct tape patching up everything that refused to hold, even after the funding came through. It was never about the high-tech setups or flashy devices with impressive branding. It was about getting the data to make a difference, not chasing dollars or fame.

Dustin put it best one day, citing an old rival team as a cautionary tale: funding don't make you hot shit to the tornado, so who the fuck cares what you're chasing with.)

Willow recalls those early days vividly: her, Kate, and the rest of the crew, switching between the passenger seat and the wheel, navigating by instinct, intuition, and whatever tech the school could scrape together. She remembers hauling out DOROTHY for the first time and blasting music so loud it could near drown out the storm, especially with Javi's voice filling in off-key. Every chase had been a moment of freedom—never just a job or a research project but their life.

She watches Javi settle into the driver's seat, waiting for that old familiar feeling, expecting him to crank the radio to his music. Instead, he only slips on a headset, eyes sharp as he shifts gears and pulls them out of the lot, all business now.

The fleet follows them out. Out the window, Willow catches sight of Tyler, standing beside the reporter, that familiar grin tugging at his lips as he watches them head off in the direction opposite Kate's call for him. A beat passes in silence before Javi finally breaks it.

"It seemed a little intense out there with Owens for a second," his eyes meet Willow's through the rearview mirror briefly, "what'd he have to say?"

(Not much, truthfully—especially with her cutting him off at every turn, keeping her distance, pushing him away with rehearsed indifference.

But between the lines, she hears something that stirs her, that familiar, fool-hearted desperation. It feels like a siren's song, calling her to drown again, telling her it's alright to sink as long as he's there, giving her a breath just enough to keep her afloat.

But she can't do that. She needs to walk her own path first, stand on her own, and face forward with chasing. I will not steal your breath, she thinks, almost as if he could hear her, I'll learn on my own, so we can share.

She's not entirely sure he'd understand if he did, but a girl can hope.)

Willow shakes her head, her gaze slipping out to the fields passing by in a blur of greens and browns. "It ain't nothin' to worry about," she says quietly.

"Willow Mae." Javi's voice drops, low and warning like he thinks he's seeing through her. But he probably has it wrong—convinced himself of the typical story: a stranger, a cowboy comes along, full of charm and charisma, and she's taken with him, just because he's got that same reckless gleam in his eye as all the others.

And hell, maybe he's not entirely wrong, not with the way she spent one weekend with the man, and nothing's ever been right since.

"I only got you for a week," Javi goes on, his stare finding hers again in the mirror, pointed and firm. "Don't go gettin' wrapped up in another cowboy."

"I ain't," she says, and it's not exactly a lie; she can't do any of that if he already has her in a whirlwind. "Besides, you don't know if he's like that."

"Oh, I know," Javi mutters, a bit too quickly. "He's a cocky jerk who treats the field like the Wild West. Just keep your distance; he ain't good news, no matter how pretty you think he is." He pauses, letting his words sink in, then raises a brow, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "What'd you think of Scott?"

Willow frowns, oblivious to the nudge. "What do you mean, what'd I think?" She shrugs, barely giving it a thought. "He's fine—seems like he knows his stuff, but he ain't a chaser. Didn't even try listening when I brought up the PARs 'cause, apparently, 'they've been through a simulation.'" She mimics Scott's deeper voice with a mocking tilt of her head, rolling her eyes.

Javi lets out a short laugh at her imitation.  "You gotta give him some grace," he tries, with a trace of amusement. "He's used to being the smartest guy in the room. You having real opinions is throwing him off his game."

Kate shifts in the passenger seat, noticing the frustrated look on Willow's face. She's quick to jump in, so attuned with her other half she just knows what she's holding back. "What did you notice with the PARs?" she asks, genuinely curious.

Willow leans forward, her voice sharpening with her focus. "I don't think there's enough weight on the sensor frame to handle the wind. If we get in front of an EF2 or above, it'll get swept up in the rotation, no question."

"Let's get 'em in front of a real storm first," Javi says, brushing off her concern with the same casual dismissal as Scott's. Willow tries to mask the sting his response brings; she understands the PARs are his experiment, but he asked her to come out here for her expertise, only to ignore her input. She reminds herself to trust him, but it feels like he's just slapping a bandage over a deep cut. "If you're right, we can always add a weight pack," he adds almost offhandedly.

Willow clenches her jaw, pushing down the hurt as she watches the clouds in the distance.

"Oh, updraft is cycling," Kate calls out as she catches the early signs of rotation in the clouds.

Willow braces herself, pushing up between the front seats to get a better view. Her eyes flicker towards the map on the screen, accompanied by a Doppler radar lighting off at the storm. "Take a right up here," she directs, pointing toward an open road with a clear view of the sky.

As they turn, her gaze fixes on the cloud base, watching as the funnel forms, stretching downward, reaching hungrily for the earth. There's a beat, a suspended moment where she holds her breath, teetering on the edge as if caught at the top of a rollercoaster, waiting for that inevitable drop. And then, finally, it touches down—the slender tip of the tornado settling on the ground. She doesn't expect the laughter that escapes her, light and surprised, breaking the tension of the moment.

Five years, she thinks, five years since she's been this close. She's seen dozens of storms, more than most ever would—a lifetime of clashing warm and cold fronts, countless pressure drops, and that telltale shift in the wind. But nothing, nothing, truly prepares her for the sight of a live tornado carving its path across the landscape, raw, mesmerizing, untamed. Every storm feels like the first, and this one is no different.

It feels brand new. She's breathless, torn between awe and fear, the wonder of nature's sheer beauty and the terror of chasing it stirring within her. That instinctual fight-or-flight response kicks in, but she does neither; she stays rooted, eyes glued to the towering rope snaking through the sky, her heartbeat pulsing with the thrill she thought she'd buried.

What the hell was she thinking, staying away this long?

"It's forming just like you called it," Javi says, caught up in the moment just like her.  He presses against his headset, issuing commands to the team. "Scarecrow, Tin Man, get into position. Wizard, stick with me." Willow smiles at the names; a play on DOROTHY, the old thing still worming its way into his heart.

Kate does not seem as mesmerized as them. She's on edge, clutching at the armrest on the door.  "What's the plan?"

"So, we want a 3D scan of the entire area around the vortex which means we're gonna surround it with three radars, each one pointed at the tornado," Javi explains, eyes locked on the storm. "Tin Man will get behind the tornado and plant his radar on the right-hand side. Scarecrow is gonna get behind the tornado and plant his on the left. And all the data that they send will be received by Wizard."

"And Lion?"

Javi grins, glancing between them. "We got to complete the triangle. We get right in front of that thing and set up our radar."

Willow takes a deep breath, steadying herself. The idea makes her pulse quicken for all the wrong reasons. Dr. Robinson said baby steps, didn't she? She's certainly taken those just by so close to another twister, and lord, what a sight it is but that did not mean she wanted to throw herself right in the path of another storm.

Kate glances over her shoulder, eyes wide with a hint of panic, and Willow forces herself to nod, pretending she's steady enough for them both.

"You got this," Javi assures. Willow doesn't think he sees the panic, far too set in the adrenaline rush of succeeding to notice Kate still gripping the seat. "Just tell us where the front of the tornado is."

Kate swallows hard, nodding. Willow reaches out, rubbing her shoulder in comfort, though she can't tell if she's doing it more for Kate or herself.

Javi just lets out a triumphant whoop. "That's our tornado, baby!"

Then something slams down in the road ahead—a sudden crash of debris or something, skidding against the dirt that has Javi swearing and jerking the wheel. Willow cries out in surprise, instinctively bracing herself: one arm reaches for the passenger headrest, the other flinging out beside her, knowing that girl never wears her seatbelt when she needs to—

The empty seat beside her hits harder than any sudden swerve. She blinks, breath caught, pushing away the cold memory.

Heart pounding, Willow catches her breath and glances out the window, just in time to see Tyler's beaten truck barreling down the path beside them. He's gunning it for the storm, music blaring so loud she can hear it even through the closed windows. She forces herself to take a deep breath, calming herself— it isn't a tree or a fence post or a hay barrel that made them swerve, not like her last chase, just the cowboy who swore up and down he was a safe driver.

Damn liar. One day, she'll rub it in his face that she was right—he does drive like he's in a getaway car.

"Dumbasses!" Javi hollers as he tries to regain control of his truck through the thick mud of the field. "It's like the wild, wild West out here." He wrestles the wheel, trying to swerve back onto the road, but Tyler's relentless, determined to keep StormPar in his dust. Willow would call it a friendly competition, but the way Javi's glaring at Tyler's truck, she isn't so sure.

Her gaze shifts to the funnel churning through the fields. Keeping to the road isn't going to work in the long run, not with a tornado liable to change course at any second. Going off-road might actually give them the edge against the Wranglers Javi so desperately wants.

Tyler seems to think so too. His truck veers out of line, plowing straight into the open field, mud spraying in his wake. Javi lets out a low curse and throws the wheel hard, maneuvering the truck to regain the lead on the road, each jolt sending Willow back against her seat.

She catches his eye again in the rearview mirror, his face set with determination. "Get me in front of it."

"Okay, wait," Kate tells him, "Uh, we need to take a right. Here."

Javi shifts right, and out of the corner of her eye, Willow spots Tyler's red truck barreling through the open field, weaving between massive wind turbines. The blades shudder and sway under the force of the storm winds, looking ready to snap at any moment. Her whole body tenses as she watches his truck zip around the turbines. Then, with a sickening crack, one of the blades comes crashing down, slamming into the ground just a few yards from his truck. Willow nearly shouts as the sharp edge buries itself in the dirt, barely missing him and his crew.

A loud honk jolts her out of her trance. Javi's slamming the horn at a group of onlookers wearing bright orange ponchos and clutching cameras, trying to force them out of the way so they aren't clipped by the StormPar fleet. They're crowded at the edge of the field, trying to capture the chase, apparently enthralled by the wild, risky moves of Tyler and his crew, these so-called Tornado Wranglers.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Javi hollers at them. The crowd gives the trucks room and he huffs, glancing back at Willow. "That's the Tyler Owens effect."

Youtubers; famous and popular from the way the crowd has been in a frenzy ever since they set sights on their leading cowboy. Famous enough that Javi sneers his name like he would a popular boyband member stealing all the attention of the girl he likes.

That go-pro in his truck makes a lot more sense now that she knows the full extent of his work—one he apparently didn't think worth opening up about with her while he attempted to drag everything about hers out on the table. Is this who he really is—a reckless, adrenaline-seeking thrill chaser courting followers with stunts that could cost lives? For the science and thrill, he'd told her on the convention floor—but now it's clear the thrill is taking the lead. She watches his truck slip through the mud, swerving dangerously close to the turbines with a grin, looking less like a chaser and more like a performer, putting on a show at the edge of disaster.

Willow forces her attention away from Tyler, focusing on the storm as hail begins to batter down in heavy clumps, the windshield streaked with icy smears. The wave is as intense as her last chase, thick enough that the twister is barely visible through the dense, blinding curtain.

Javi takes the break in visibility to order their data collector to hang back. The rest of the fleet fans out behind them, moving to their designated points, while Javi presses on the gas, pushing them forward.

"The path's shifting," she notes, watching the storm edge in exactly the direction she'd expected.

"There's a right coming up," Kate tells Javi, pointing out their turn to get them closer.

"Where, y'all?" Javi's tone grows tense, anxious. There's a flurry of voices coming through his headset she can't quite make out.  "We gotta be within 300 meters to make the radar work."

The windshield wipers fight the hail, screeching against the glass, barely able to keep up. Willow flinches at the sound, a flash of memory hitting her—hail slamming down like this, the storm charging just behind them, its hidden fury obscured by the thick shield of ice.

"Come on," Javi's voice grounds her back to the cab. "Talk to me, talk to me. We getting close?"

Kate stammers out the answer, eyes fixed on the horizon. "Just up there, in the clearing."

Javi brakes hard, bringing them right to the edge of the funnel, and throws the truck into park. He tosses a pair of ugly goggles her way, and she slides them on out of sheer reflex, feeling debris pelt the truck's sides as the wind picks up around them.

Willow swallows hard, her scar prickling under her fingers, the sting of that old wound sparking painfully in her memory. Her mind races. "Javi, I don't—" she starts, but he's already out of the truck, too focused to hear her.

Kate finally shoves her door open and clambers out after him, the urgency of her movement giving Willow the push she needs. She tumbles out, boots crunching into the loose dirt and debris swirling in the storm's outer edge. The funnel is barely a mile off, roaring with a force that sends shockwaves through her skin. It's close enough to feel its disaster but far enough that they aren't in its direct path—yet.

Her breath catches. She knows exactly how fast it can shift, how it can morph from a seemingly safe distance into a deadly force within seconds. How easily it could take Javi and Kate from her if any of them misjudge it, if she lets her guard down, if she takes this risk just to make their experiment work. Fear wells up, sudden and sharp, as she reaches out, gripping Kate's wrist to ground her. It takes a moment to realize that Kate is shaking, just as hard as she is.

"Kate!" Javi's voice calls out from behind the truck, where he's struggling to unload the PAR. Neither of them moves. "Will! I need you!" His voice pierces through the roar, but they're both frozen, caught up in the sight of the storm inching closer, dangerous and unrelenting.

Willow tries to shake herself out of it; she's not under an overpass, she's here with Kate and Javi, the two people she trusts most in a chase. She can do this—

But Kate springs into action. "Javi, get in!" she yells, pulling Willow back toward the truck. She pushes Willow into the passenger seat and darts around to the driver's side. "Get in, Javi!"

When he finally climbs back in, he's breathless, looking at them with wild eyes. "What is it? What's wrong? What do you see?"

Nothing short of the past, creeping up to haunt them.

Kate doesn't frame it that way, though. She throws the truck into reverse, wheels kicking up dust as she tears down the battered path. "This isn't right," she mutters, hands gripping the wheel tightly.

Javi, misreading her urgency, assumes she's spotted a shift. Willow can't bring herself to tell him the truth: that Kate's getting them the hell out of harm's way, pulling them off the path so it can't touch them.

"We're just gonna find a closer spot," he says into his earpiece, oblivious.

Kate doesn't slow down until they're miles back, the twister a distant shadow still carving through the field. Willow tears off the glasses and shuts her eyes, inhaling deeply as Javi storms out of the truck, cursing and slamming his hand against the truck bed in frustration when he realizes their distance.

She counts her breaths—fifteen of them— and tunes out Javi's shouts and the pounding frustration that echoes through her own chest. They had been so close, hadn't they? Redemption on the cusps and her fucking nerves blew it.

As she opens her eyes, Willow glances over at Kate, her concern unspoken. She reaches out and squeezes Kate's hand, a quiet check-in. Kate nods back, but Willow can see the strain in her eyes. She stays in the driver's seat, and Willow slips out to face Javi.

He turns toward her, exasperated, hands thrown up. "What the hell happened, Will?"

"I froze," she admits. "I made Kate pull us out. That's on me." She won't let Kate take the fall when it could've just as easily been her pressing the gas and peeling out of there.

Javi's frustration is written all over his face, but he takes a steadying breath, shaking his head. "No. This ain't on you. Shit happens out there." He pauses, looking at her with concern. "You good?"

"Yeah," she replies with a short nod. "Just needed a minute." She catches his gaze shifting to the truck, lingering on Kate, worry etched in his expression. "Give her one too," she adds softly.

It's the last thing he needs when that familiar red, battered truck pulls up beside them, Tyler leaning out the window with a mocking grin, looking perfectly untouched by the storm.

"StormPar! Javi!" he calls out, his voice carrying over the rumbling wind. "What are you doing out here, man? Tornado's that way." His gaze lands on Willow, and the grin shifts into something softer, almost sweet. "Hey, weather girl," he drawls, gentle enough to stir a pang in her chest. Willow just sighs, turning away; the last thing she needs is him weighing on the tension already on her shoulders.

(She misses the brief flicker of worry in his eyes, the hint of concern he bites back with a little frown. Tyler looks ready to get out of his truck and see what StormPar put her through to leave her so shaken.

But Boone shakes his head subtly—a quiet warning that it might only make things worse. Boone doesn't always have Tyler's cowboy charm, but he can read people with surprising ease.)

She does not look back up until he pulls away toward the tornado, throwing one last taunt over his shoulder. "Nice goggles, Javi!"

Willow feels Kate slip up beside her, an arm wrapping around her shoulders as they watch Tyler's truck disappear into the storm. It's not the first time she's heard of someone driving straight into the eye; her aunt and uncle had accidentally done it more times than she could count. But it is the first time she's seen fireworks lighting up the funnel. Flashes of red and yellow crackle through the sky, and she can't help but stare in quiet awe.

"He's insane," Kate mutters under her breath, making sure Javi doesn't hear. "How the hell did you get wrapped up in him?"

Willow shrugs, still mesmerized by the sight. "You know me," she says with a wry smile, "I don't usually think when they're that pretty."

—AUTHOR'S NOTE

LEAVING THE MOTEL SCENE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER BECAUSE IT'LL BE A PRETTY BIG AND SIGNIFICANT ONE. i know there's not a lot of tyler in this chapter, but while this is a tyler fanfiction, I'm really using it as a way to express a story about overcoming trauma that isolates you. i don't want the narrative to be that tyler brings willow back but WILLOW BRINGS WILLOW BACK.

i love willow so much she's my baby I raised her and cant wait for her to let tyler in and keep her forever tho

warning: WILLOW AND TYLER'S SECOND FIGHT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER. kate's her ride or die don't ever make a comment about that girl she'll tear you a new one. but don't worry they'll reconcile because tyler's just kind of an idiot and willow just stubborn

FEEDBACK ALWAYS APPRECIATED: comments give me life and I want you to know how grateful I am to have readers on this fic. life has been pretty tough lately as I start my career and coming home everyday to work on this is keeping me going

thank you for reading,

kari