Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“And now the day bleeds

Into nightfall,

And you’re not here

To get me through it all…”

He didn't think about it every day anymore. It had been two years now. He'd gotten to the point where he didn't dwell on it as much. He could go out there, he could race, he could coach Cruz, and he could even wear his mentor's old #51 jacket and cap when he sat in that pit box.

But that didn't mean he had to go through all the stuff in Doc's house. That didn't mean he had to move anything or clean it out. It was just fine the way it was—the way it had been when Doc was still here.

Sally could encourage him, Sheriff could nag him, and Mater could make it sound like it would be the best dang thing out there, but Lightning was perfectly fine with leaving everything just the way it was—the way it used to be.

If Doc were here, he would've reminded Lightning that the longer he went without getting that kind of closure, the harder it would be to truly move on. Lightning would have then reminded Doc that If you were here, I wouldn't have to move on.

And besides, why would I want to move on?

One just didn't move on from someone like Doc. So, Lightning held tight to his mentor's old teachings and did his best to pass them on to Cruz.

Besides, I already got closure when I met and talked with Smokey, so we’re all good here, Doc. It’s all good…

It was a different feeling, meeting Cruz at each track instead of driving down with her. He and Doc had always driven down together…

Closing his eyes, Lightning sucked in a long, steadying breath. That first year without Doc had been nothing short of absolute hell, but now was not the time to think about all that.

Easier said than done while standing at the side door of Doc's house.

It always happened this way. The handful of times he had needed to set foot back in the empty rooms never failed to bring back memories. Some were beautiful and nostalgic… and some cut deeper than ten thousand knives. Lightning would rather wreck his car every damn race than relive those memories.

Biting the bullet, he forced himself to turn the doorknob.

The kitchen was quiet. It usually was these days. The coffee maker still sat in its rightful place on the counter. He was sure Doc had never moved it in all the years the man had lived there. Sometimes, when the pain wasn't hitting as hard, Lightning would brew a cup of coffee and leave it at Doc's spot on the table next to that morning's newspaper. Sometimes, he would do a few lines of that edition’s crossword puzzle.

Sometimes, he couldn't even look at the table.

That morning, the pain had been more manageable. He was going to be on his way to the next track—Watkins Glen, one of his favorites because he and Doc had gone camping there after a race once and—

Lightning took another breath.

It had been two damn years, after all.

You should be over it by now.

Right.

Setting the coffee pot to start brewing, Lightning wandered upstairs. He wasn't there for a trip down memory lane. He was on a mission.

Cruz was great. She was lively, energetic, and always up for anything. Her smile never failed to light up the whole room. Though he was loath to admit it at first, just being around her gave Lightning back the spark that he'd gradually been losing over the past year or so. They were only halfway through the season and he couldn't picture life without her.

She was only a decade or so his junior, yet she kept him young in ways he couldn't explain. Doc had never quite been able to explain the feeling either, Lightning recalled as he climbed the stairs.

Lizzie was also a blessing because she cleaned and dusted the house when Lightning wasn't around, keeping it as fresh as Doc used to. When he had time, he tidied it himself with Sally and Paula's help.

Bracing himself, Lightning stepped into Doc's old room. Cruz, in all her passion for the sport and its history, was going to love seeing the statistics book he and Doc had compiled over the years. From what worked and what didn't to tricks and hacks for each track.

With any luck, maybe Cruz would want to expand on it a bit—add her own observations and experiences.

He couldn’t wait to surprise her.

If he could just find it...

Maybe not cleaning out Doc's closet hadn't been the best idea. The small room looked just the same as it always had, but Lightning couldn't find anything. It was the kind of organized chaos that only the man himself had been able to manage.

"Come on, Doc... Where'd you put it?"

It should have been easier to find the notebook, but it wasn't until he reached up for a box of junk and it tumbled all over the floor that he finally saw it.

Bingo.

Snatching up the small book, Lightning thumbed through it to make sure he had the right one. It took less than five seconds for him to realize he hadn't.

Or... maybe he had.

"The heck is this...?" he whispered. Talking aloud in Doc's house made the rooms seem a little less empty sometimes.

Dear Lightning…

His fingers froze, and for a single moment, he felt his heart stop. The words toward the front of the book were scribbled in an old, familiar handwriting, yet Lightning had never read them before. The first few pages had been filled with medical notes and grocery lists from what looked like years ago.

But this page… This page looked newer.

He couldn't stop his eyes from scanning the rest of it, devouring the words almost faster than his brain could comprehend them.

... I hope you don't mind me taking a page out of your mom's book, but I have a feeling you'll appreciate something like this when the time comes around. By the time you get this little journal, I plan to have taught you everything I know. In case we don't get that far, however—

Lightning slammed the book shut. It was the cruelest form of Deja Vu. First his mom with her Letter-A-Day journal she'd left him all those years ago… and now Doc.

Closing his eyes against the incoming prickle of tears, he sucked in a deep breath.

"Damn it, Doc," he whispered to the empty bedroom. "Damn it…"

The journal was worn, the leather soft beneath his skin.

Just when you thought you were over it, huh, McQueen?

Another breath stabbed at the lump forming in his throat and he forced his eyes open. Choosing to ignore his damp rims for now, Lightning blinked a few times and focused on the page. It was a letter addressed to him, and if he flipped through the rest of the book, he didn't doubt he'd find a dozen others just like it.

A letter from Doc to Lightning. One filled to the brim with so much warmth and love that he could practically hear Doc's voice as if the man were sitting there beside him.

Sitting...

Lightning glanced about. He didn't know when he'd made it down onto his knees, but he couldn't quite find the strength to stand again.

—Here are a few lessons I learned from my own crew chief back in the fifties.

A ragged breath echoed off the walls as Lightning read on.

Things sure were different then, but the heart of the sport was still the same. Everyone was there to feel that same thrill, that same high of flying over a dusty dirt track—

—Can'tcan'tcan'tcan't—

His next breath didn't come as easily as the others had and Lightning clutched a hand to his chest.

"I can't do this again," he choked out. "Do you hear me, Doc? I can't do this again!"

Why didn't he give this to me himself?

"You could have at least handed it to me and explained it, or something. You think it's fun to find stuff like this, huh, Doc? First Mom, now you. Damn it, you guys!"

Throwing the book would have been childish, yet Lightning found he had to tighten his grip on it to keep from letting it fly.

It had all happened so fast. The heart attack. The health decline. The doctors… 

Sniffling, he swiped at his eyes. "Guess you didn't really have much time to explain, did you? That's fine." Another sniffle. "That's fine—"

His voice broke off as a suffocating sob claimed his vocal cords.

He wasn't going to do it. Don't you dare do it again… He wasn't going to repeat the past. Maybe he was leaving Doc's house alone just like he'd done with his mom's, but he wasn't going to leave this book for later. He wasn't going to ignore it for days.

Not this time.

The next entry was more of the same. Racing techniques, short histories of Doc's career, and an anecdote or two. The third matched it in content.

And in each letter, Doc found some unique way to explain how proud he was of Lightning. How much he had always loved the kid like one of his own… 

The pages bled with familiar nicknames that Lightning hadn't heard spoken out loud in two long years.

Rookie.

Hot Rod.

Son…

Even after his first Piston Cup win, Doc still kept calling him a rookie.

"You know I haven't been a rookie for, like, two years now, right?"

"When you've got three Piston Cups under your belt," Doc had replied with a chuckle, "then maybe I'll think about dropping the nickname."

Lightning clutched the book, flipping through the pages now to see exactly how many Doc had filled.

All of them.

He filled all of them...

All but the last few. How long had he been working on this? When had he started?

"And why the heck didn't you tell me? Why didn't you...?"

Another sob cut off his words. Barbed wire gripped his throat, piercing him with thick shards of emotion that he couldn't swallow down. Digging his phone out of his pants pocket with fingers that wouldn't. Stop. Shaking, Lightning pulled up his list of recent calls.

He needed to talk to someone. To hear something else besides the sound of his own turmoil. And for a moment, his finger hovered above Sally's name… 

… Before switching gears and tapping Doc's name instead. The phone seemed to ring for eternity. He could see the device in his mind's eye. It would be where he always kept it, in the top drawer of his dresser back home. Even after all this time, Lightning had never let Doc's iPhone run out of battery.

The iPhone Doc had never truly learned how to navigate.

"You've reached the brand new iPhone of The Fabulous Hudson Hornet…" Lightning’s own playful voice filtered through the speaker. "He's super busy and can't take your call right now. That, or he probably doesn't want to—"

"All right, rookie." He listened to the familiar scuffle; that old chuckle. "Go record your own voicemail." In a slightly louder tone, Doc stated, "This is Doc Hudson's phone. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

The tone sounded and Lightning took a breath, trying to steady himself.

"Hey, Doc," he whispered, unable to get his voice to go any higher. "You know, you could've told me about this journal. I had to find it on my own. Didn't even know I was supposed to be looking for it, but I found it anyway. I know everything happened so fast, but you could have at least mentioned it in the hospital or something." He could feel his insides twist and turn as he got more riled up with every word. "It was hard enough to meet Smokey and find out about all those letters you sent him. All those newspaper clippings about me—about us—and hearing him talk about you like you weren't gone—"

A fresh sob cut him off around the same time as the voicemail did. It might as well have intoned "Please insert another quarter" like those dumb payphones used to do, Lightning felt the same sort of rage.

Redialling, he waited for the voicemail greeting to end—and tried not to get even angrier at past Lightning than he already was, because past Lightning had Doc.

He didn't even wait for the voicemail tone to finish its long, monotonous beep before launching into his next tirade.

"And another thing, Doc, do you even remember how damn hard it was for me to get through the book of letters from my mom? When you were writing all this, did you even think to remember who helped me get up the nerve to read her letters in the first place? Do you even remember that I wouldn't have cracked that book open if it weren't for you? How am I supposed to get through this one without—?"

Click.

Lightning was redialling before his fingers could even comprehend the motion. This time, someone picked up on the other end.

He didn't lie to himself. He couldn't.

He knew whoever it was wouldn't be Doc.

"Hey, Stickers."

Sally.

He might have known.

Forcing his voice not to waver, he swallowed. "...Hey, Sal."

A beat passed as she took a breath. "Are you all right?"

Was he…?

Hell no.

"He wrote letters," he forced out through clenched teeth. "A whole damn journal full of letters. To me."

She let out a slow breath and just the sound of it began to calm him. "I think you should come home, Stickers. You don't want to miss your flight."

Right.

Lightning couldn't remember when he had started flying to the tracks that Mack couldn't get to within a day. It was just easier that way. Besides, he and Doc used to drive the Hornet to races, so… 

It took him a moment to realize that just nodding wouldn't cut it, so he told Sally he'd be home in a few minutes.

"I can't deal with this right now," he said to the empty room as he pocketed his phone.

The journal sat in the middle of the floor, taunting him with a silence that weighed half a ton.

"I can't deal with you right now," he told the journal.

It just stared back in silence.

And he almost left without it, grabbing the small book at the last minute before jogging down the stairs.

The coffee pot had finished its dutiful brewing.

He'd forgotten all about the coffee pot.

With a muttered screw it, he dumped the pot in the sink and left it there.

Cruz had a race to win.

He didn't have time to deal with anything else right now. If he could just dump the journal back home and get on that flight, maybe he could be there for her like Doc always was for him.

And maybe, he could forget all about the stupid, wonderful letters. Maybe he could ignore the way the old wounds throbbed in pain, ripped open again by a hurt he thought he had gotten over. A hurt he thought he had taken care of already.

You're supposed to be over it, McQueen.

It's been two years. Why aren't you over it?

What's wrong with you, anyway...?

“...I let my guard down

And then you pulled the rug,

I was getting kinda used to being

Someone you loved.”

Chapter Text

“And I tend to close my eyes,

when it hurts sometimes

I fall into your arms,

I'll be safe in your sound 'til I come back around…”

He was supposed to leave the journal at home. He had told himself to leave it at home.

Yet, somehow he'd found it tucked away in the folds of his suitcase. Between venting to Sally and kissing little Paula goodbye, he didn't even remember putting it in there.

On the plane ride over, he'd read another couple of pages. Why his brain insisted upon torturing him, Lightning didn't know. He hadn't even wanted to take the journal out of the suitcase, and yet…

… Part of him just couldn't seem to resist.

Stop.

Lightning took a breath, ditching the journal in his—Cruz's—trailer along with his suitcase.

You don't have time for this right now, remember?

You don't have time for this.

Even Mater had seemed to pick up on the fact that Lightning wasn't up for chatting. Most of their flight he'd spent in silence while the rest of his team talked on and off amongst themselves, and Mater had left him alone.

"You all right, buddy?" was all Mater had asked as the plane landed.

Lightning had given him the most reassuring smile he could manage. "Just tired. Come on, let's win this thing."

Setting off for the pits, Lightning forced himself to breathe deeply. In… out…

You're gonna be fine. You've been fine up until now. You're fine.

"Morning, Mr. McQueen!" Cruz burst into his line of sight seemingly from nowhere. She was already in her tracksuit, her dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail. "Mr. Weathers says it's going to be a beautiful day for racing!"

And, here we go. In… out…

"How many times have I told you?" Lightning began, forcing a smile. He'd done it hundreds of times for the press in his early days, but doing it for Cruz… It felt wrong, somehow.

Doc would've faked a smile for you.

No, he would've talked about whatever was wrong.

No, he would've made you talk about what was wrong.

Right.

"You can call me Lightning," he finished. "Mr. McQueen makes me feel old."

She giggled at that, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face as they entered the Dinoco pit box.

Lightning didn't really know when his dream of racing for Dinoco had faded. Maybe sometime around that first year with Doc… It had been years since he'd even entertained the idea, so it still caught him by surprise every so often to realize that Cruz drove for Team Dinoco.

And he was her crew chief.

"Mr. Weathers, hi again!" Cruz's jovial voice drew Lightning's attention to Cal, who was leaning against a wall. "Isn't it a beautiful day?"

"Said so myself," Cal said, chuckling. "And please, Mr. Weathers is my uncle. Just Cal is fine."

"With our luck," Lightning couldn't help but comment as he took a look at the sky, "there'll be some flash flood or something tomorrow."

It was too blue, too clear and bright. Too happy. The sky was mocking him with its cheery attitude, wondering why he couldn't act the same.

It was a race weekend, for crying out loud. Lighten up a bit, McQueen.

Before he could feel the full force of Cal's confused stare—which he knew was about to drill holes into the back of his head—Lightning turned to his friend.

"Hey, remember that time there was, like, two feet of water on the track?"

That pulled a nostalgic smile out of Cal. "Yeah, I remember you and Bobby swimming in it, even though both your crew chiefs told you not to."

Crew chiefs…

Don'tthinkaboutitDon'tthinkaboutitDon't—

"You were no fun, not wanting to get your hair all messed up, even though you were literally about to smash a helmet onto it for three hours." Lightning shook his head, letting himself enjoy the laughter coming from Cruz. If only for a moment, his self-inflicted suffering could take a backseat to her joy. "Always a stickler for the rules."

"Speaking of which…" Cal nodded at Cruz's vehicle. "Isn't practice about to start?"

Biting back a curse—because why did time seem like it was playing tricks on him lately, always moving too fast or too damn slow—Lightning grabbed his headset as Cruz snatched up her helmet.

"All right," he told her. "You've got this. Remember, to everyone else, it's just practice, but I want you to act like you're trying to win tomorrow's race."

“Just don't wear yourself out before qualifiers, rookie.”

Lightning swallowed, barely missing a beat. "Just don't wear yourself out, okay? You still have qualifiers after this."

Cruz gave him a salute. "Got it, Mr. McQueen!"

"You don't need to—" Lightning stifled a sigh. "You know what? Never mind. Just saddle up and we'll test the channels."

Cruz hadn't been gone for five seconds when Cal sidled up to him.

"So, what's with you?"

Making a face, Lightning spared his friend a glance. "What do you mean, what's with me? "

"You seem… off."

"I'm fine, Cal. And shouldn't you be off commentating something?"

"You know I don't have to do that until tomorrow during the actual race."

"I think you need to work on your mindset, my friend. You don't get to do that until tomorrow."

It was Cal's turn to make a face. "It's not as thrilling as it looks, you know."

" Really? ” Lightning flashed a look of mock surprise. “Sitting in the booth and doing verbal recaps at the end of each stage isn't one hundred percent Thrillsville? "

"First off, how are you still so cringe?"

Lightning snorted. "No, you were always the cringy one."

"And second, " Cal pressed on as if Lightning hadn't said a word, "you're trying to change the subject."

Giving his eyes a roll, Lightning gave him a smile. "I'm fine, Cal. You're always such a worrywart about everything."

"Yeah," Mater said, bounding into their conversation with an energy that could rival Cruz, "he's just tired."

"Yeah," Lightning agreed as he donned his headset and handed another one to Mater. "Just tired. Some of us can't sleep on airplanes."

"Hey, it's not my fault I get lulled to sleep by the engines every time," Cal shot back, but Lightning was relieved to see his friend was grinning.

"It's downright obnoxious, is what it is. All right, Mater, let’s do some checks and then you can be on your way."

Making Mater the spotter for Cruz had been one of Lightning's better decisions over the last few months, he couldn't deny it. But that morning, seeing Mater in a headset only served as a reminder of that whole fiasco in Japan. And that reminded him of Doc. And that reminded him of the journal tucked away in his room.

He felt like it was calling to him. Screaming at him.

Read me, you coward!

Doc didn't write me just so you could ignore me. Why won't you keep reading—?

"Uh, Mr. McQueen, are you there?"

"Sorry, Cruz." He adjusted his headset and mic. At some point, Mater had left to join the other spotters at the top of the grandstands. "How's it sound out there?"

He could practically hear her smile. "I read you loud and clear."

"Great. All right, let's race."

Cruz qualified third, which wasn't bad, but Lightning couldn't help but feel like she could have done better.

Like he could have done better.

Should have done better. You were distracted, McQueen. What's wrong with you?

Just tired. He repeated the lie to himself as he trudged up the steps of the trailer. With Cruz still out chatting with some of the other racers, he had made the journey back alone.

Why'd you have to do that?

I dunno.

The trailer was dark when he entered and part of him was tempted to keep it that way.

You never were much good at being alone, kid.

Shut up.

Cursing himself for telling Doc's voice to shut up, Lightning snapped on the lights and immediately went to close the door to his room, putting a barricade between him and the journal.

The rest of the team would be back at some point, and Mack was always lingering around somewhere, so he wasn’t alone. Not really.

He sank into the couch and grabbed the TV remote. A distraction from his thoughts was very much in order.

That's when Mater came in with a beer.

"Hey, buddy," he greeted, keeping up that subdued, almost cautious air that he'd put on at the airport. Back when Lightning had made it clear that he didn't want to talk about his sudden mood shift. "How's it goin'?"

"Just watching a little TV, Mater." Trying to keep the sigh out of his voice, Lightning made a subtle shift toward the edge of the couch.

A silent invitation for Mater to come and end his loneliness.

Lonely. He scoffed at his brain. I'm not lonely. He had more than enough friends around him. How could he be lonely?

You're lonely for the one person you know can't be here.

The realization struck him to the core, numbing him as Mater claimed the open seat.

"Don't seem to be watchin' much yet, are ya?"

It was then that Lightning noticed the dark, blank screen. Oh.

Distracted. Why are you so—?

Well, now he knew why. He had a name for it. The Lonely that had plagued him in his early years—back when it was just him, Mack, and Harv—now returned at full force. Though, this time, it took a new shape. It felt… different. Familiar in a way he didn't want it to be. In a way he hadn't felt in nearly two years.

He hadn't been lonely for Doc in a long time.

Slamming his finger down on the remote button, Lightning welcomed whatever crappy show was about to pop on. It took a few skips through the channels to find something they would both enjoy, a demolition derby that was obviously a replay from the early 2000s.

"I mean, look at that guy's clothes," Lightning pointed out. " So early 2000s."

It took a long moment or two, but he soon noticed how he was making a conscious effort not to look at Mater's beer. He still didn't even care for the drink, not really, but the can wouldn't stop looking so damn enticing.

When Doc had passed, Lightning shed quite a few tears. He wasn't ashamed of that. In fact, it had been beyond relieving to know that he could cry for his mentor. Once upon a time, he had used a different kind of coping method.

And now, it took everything in him not to just come out and ask Mater the alcohol content of his drink.

Probably not more than four or five percent.

Something light. Something you don't need.

It wouldn’t even do anything for you.

Right.

He'd been able to cry over Doc, so he hadn’t felt the need to drink.

He hadn't been able to do that for his mom. Not for a long time. Not until Doc had stepped in and helped him—

Damn.

If his mind could just move away from Doc and the journal and everything…

Lightning swallowed a sigh. Then that would be just great.

He wasn't going to drink. After all, he hadn't used alcohol to cope for years now.

Doc had made sure of that.

The last time Lightning had been blackout drunk—besides the moonshine incident, which definitely didn't count—Mater had ended up having to drive him home and carry him into the house.

And Doc had stayed up with him all night…

No. Lightning blinked, focusing on the TV screen. He would not do that to Cruz. Never in a million years. She didn't deserve to have to put up with his tortured, overly dramatic soul.

He was the one who was supposed to be taking care of her, not the other way around.

You took care of Doc sometimes, a small voice whispered.

Yeah… But I don't think we're there yet.

Much as he liked Cruz, it had still only been a few months and a couple handfuls of races.

Lightning pulled his legs onto the couch, hoping the warmth of them pressing against his chest would stave off some of the Lonely's frost.

Yeah… We're not there yet…

The trailer door opened with a bang. Silhouetted against the inky backdrop of the night stood Cruz. She had ditched her yellow and blue #51 tracksuit long ago in favor of the windbreaker that matched Lightning's.

That matched Doc's.

Lightning subconsciously tugged Doc's old jacket tighter around his frame, almost having forgotten he was still wearing it.

"I can't race tomorrow," she blurted before either of the couch potatoes could greet her.

Holding back a sigh, an eye roll, and his growing selfishness because he didn't need this right now, Lightning furrowed his brows.

"What? Why not?"

"Third place?" Cruz came in and leaned against the counter, clearly trying to stabilize her nerves. Somehow. "That's really bad for me, isn't it? I mean, I usually get first or second. If I can't even qualify in the top two in practice, how am I going to win tomorrow?"

"Top three really isn't bad," Lightning said, going for calm. Doc always went for calm first. Unless he was angry because you were being stupid.

Like driving while sick or crashing your car into a fountain…

"But third today could mean fourth or fifth next week." Whatever she’d been doing to try to settle those nerves, it definitely wasn't working.

As Cruz got herself more worked up, Lightning hit mute on the TV. He didn't need the extra sound to add to his mounting headache.

"What if I'm slipping back? What if whatever talent Dinoco thought I had was really just a fluke? That's it, isn’t it? I was always meant to be just a trainer, wasn't I? This is all just a fairytale and it's about to go away because I can't—"

"Cruz, take a breath!" He hadn't shouted, per se, but if he hadn't raised his voice a little, he knew she wouldn't have heard him over the voices in her head.

The same kinds he'd had to battle as a rookie.

Been there, done that. Didn't even get a T-shirt.

Thankfully, she was breathing again, so he gave her—and himself—a moment or two. A moment for her to catch her breath. A moment for him to think of something enlightening or encouraging to say.

Doc always knew what to say. Most days, Lightning felt like he was tripping through life.

Not most days, no. Just the days since finding that stupid journal.

Yeah.

Maybe he really was fine, overall. Maybe I really am just tired.

Yeah… That's it.

That's it…

Realizing she was still waiting for him to say something, Lightning uncurled himself from the couch and stood up.

"Look, everyone has bad days. Bad weekends, even, but this isn't one of yours. I don't know how many times I qualified in third—or tenth—and still came out on top. The more you worry about it, the harder you're gonna make things for yourself. Just stay loose, stay focused, and you'll get where you need to be."

That's it? That's really all you've got?

I mean, for now… Just shut up or something, will you?

"And hey," he added, "it's early enough in the season that you won't be sacrificing that many playoff points if you don't come in first. Just make Top Ten and we'll all be happy."

She cocked a brow. "You want me to be happy if I come in tenth? Uh, I don't think I can't do that, Mr. McQueen."

"Okay, fine, well… I'll be happy, then. And how many times—? You know what? Just call me whatever you want. It doesn't matter."

He couldn't even imagine having called Doc "Mr. Hudson" all those years…

It didn't register that he was pushing past her until she asked where he was going.

"Just for a walk."

Cruz perked up at this. "Oh, need company?"

"No, thanks."

With that, he shut the door. Mater's still in there. She'll be fine. He's better company than me right now, anyway.

Maybe he could find Cal… Or Mack. Just someone, anyone who would distract him enough to keep him from sniffing out the place where Mater had bought that beer.

In the end, he found only himself and his own mind—the very last thing he’d wanted to be caught alone with that night.

Doc would've done it better.

He blamed the shiver that wracked his frame on the slight evening breeze.

"Doc, you would've done this so much better," he whispered to the darkness. To the silent track and empty grandstands. "And why the hell did you write that damn journal? And why didn't you give it to me in person…? Why didn't you—?"

Pursing his lips was the only way to keep the rising emotion at bay. To keep it from turning into a rogue sob or something stupid like that.

He would've done it so much better.

Why can't you be better, McQueen?

Swallowing hurt, so Lightning found himself holding his breath.

Why couldn't he get better…?

Chapter Text

“It’s easy to say,

But it's never the same,

I guess I kinda liked the way

 you numbed all the pain…”

Dear Lightning,

We were working on your reflexes today. I hope I've told you more than enough times that yours are some of the best I've ever seen. But keep this in mind when you're tempted to let those words go to your head and get lazy: the reflexes are the first thing to go. You've got to keep at them, keep the practice up. It's not like riding a bike, kid. You can't come back after a few months and expect them to be in tip-top shape. When I'm not around, I expect you to keep doing those exercises we made up, got it? I know you will. You're a hard worker, even if you do have a habit of sleeping in late…

Lightning could hear Doc's humor bleed through the page.

"Yeah, Doc," he whispered. "I remembered..."

My own crew chief taught me some of those exercises back in the day. I didn't always listen to him. Thought it was boring, just doing the same thing over and over again. But he drilled them into me. I guess, in a way, I'm still practicing them by teaching them to you. Maybe one day you'll meet him...

"Already did, Doc. Did that without you, too, so thanks for that." His own sarcasm bit at him more than it should have and he sucked in a breath. "Sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

I love you, kiddo. Never forget that. Even when I'm gone, I want you to remember how proud I still am of you.

Love,

Doc.

"How can you be proud of me if you're not even here?" Lightning hissed through clenched teeth.

A knock on the door had him glancing up, slamming the book shut, and blinking back tears.

"Hey, Lightning, you ready?" Mack's muted voice echoed through the closed door. His barricade to the outside world.

Curled up inside his room, it was just him and Doc. With the way he'd been feeling this weekend, however, Lightning wasn't so sure that was a good thing… 

"Be right there!" he called, tossing the journal into the corner where his suitcase sat open and overflowing with the clothes he hadn't bothered to unpack.

Doc would have made him unpack them… 

Zipping up Doc's jacket, he ran his fingers over the old threading that made up the #51 patch.

"Please, help me focus today," he whispered before taking a breath and forcing himself out into the fray.

Everyone buzzed around, pushing past him to get to their own pits. Reporters and commentators flitted about, eager to start getting their driver interviews on live television.

Despite Lightning's previous predictions, the weather was beautiful. Doc would've called it glorious.

Even though he let that thought bring a smile to his face, he crossed his arms.

That doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you about the journal thing.

Doc's voice stayed silent.

Probably ignoring him because he was being such a selfish brat.

Lightning rolled his eyes at his inner critic.

Oh, shut up. I'm not, I'm just… 

… Just totally thrown off-guard.

And the only one who had really been able to pick him up when he fell wasn't here.

Not only pick you up but dust you off and point you back in the right direction.

Yeah, well, Doc wasn't the only one who could do that. I do have other friends, you know.

Then why don't you let them help you, rookie?

The pang of Doc's sudden voice struck him harder than he'd anticipated and Lightning quickened his steps.

So you’re silent when I need you and loud when I don’t? You do remember that Harv was like that, right?

Silence.

Right…

If he could just get to the pits, get his headset on, and help Cruz win this race, maybe he could wallow a little later. When this was all over. When he was back home and—

Focus on the present, kid. How many times have I told you that?

I'm still mad at you, so just go away.

"Morning, McQueen!" Mater greeted him the moment he entered their pit box. "Still tired?"

It was a layered question, one that bled concern and hope that his friend was feeling better.

Sure, Mater. I'm fine.

Flashing a slight smile, Lightning gave his friend a pat on the shoulder. "I'll be fine."

Mater's brows gave a slight dip. "Did ya sleep well?"

"I slept just fine." Liar. "Now, come on. The Dinoco Team has a race to win."

Smiling, Mater donned his headset, did a few checks, and then booked it for the grandstands. Lightning couldn't climb into his own overlook until he found his driver, who hadn't greeted him that morning with any of her usual fervor.

Or at all, for that matter.

Just as he spotted her pacing in front of her car, his phone began to buzz in his pocket.

One missed call from Cal, followed almost immediately by a text that Lightning had seen coming from a mile away.

Cal: U ok?

Later. He would have time for his friend's worries later. All that mattered right now was Cruz. Not Cal or Mater's concern, not that stupid journal, not his own distracted mind.

Just Cruz.

She was already suited up when he approached her.

Of course, she is. She's been more prepared than you have this weekend.

Ignoring the swirling chaos of his mind, Lightning cleared his throat, trying not to startle her too badly.

"Cal was right," he began with a grin, "it looks like a perfect day for racing."

Despite his slow, gentle approach, she still whirled about, eyes wide and filled with the same look he'd seen in the mirror countless times during his rookie season.

He waited as she forced a breath into her lungs and tried for a smile. "So, third's really not that bad, right?"

"Of course, not. You can make up those two positions in no time."

"Even if Storm's in first right now?"

Lightning nodded. "Even if Storm's in first. You can't qualify first all the time, but that doesn't mean you won't finish first."

"Okay. Okay." She seemed to be trying to convince both him and herself, and Lightning wondered what sort of mini pep talk was going on in her head right now. "Okay…" When her tone took a slight shift, he knew they weren't out of the woods just yet. "Okay, but what if he leads every lap? What if no one can get past him? Remember Atlanta?"

"Then he'll lead every lap and you'll take second. But remember, this is Watkins Glen. Anything can happen," Lightning reassured her. "At the very least, you hold third and make Top Five."

"I thought you said even tenth would be okay…”

"Yeah, tenth would be fine, but that doesn't mean you don't try for the best position you can get. Look," Lightning went on, taking a breath and recentering himself. His mind was all over the place, pulling tips and tricks and info from dozens of Doc's different lessons.

Just form something coherent, all right? Make it make sense for her.

"Just keep your body loose and your steering tight. You let yourself get all stressed out and that's when the crashes happen. Fluffy cloud, remember?"

She calmed a bit at this, her shoulders relaxing. "Right. Right. I’m a fluffy cloud… Okay, I've got this."

"You've got this. Sure, Storm led every lap at Atlanta, but he's good at the intermediate tracks and superspeedways. You kill at the road courses. Not just anyone can do what you do on those sharp turns and curves."

"Not just anyone can drift like you can, kid."

"Yeah, except you, old man. You're the best there is."

"And that's why it's my job to make you even better. Now, let's get out there."

Right.

Blinking back the memory—now was not the time for tears, pull yourself together, McQueen!—Lightning placed a hand on Cruz's shoulder.

"Just give me your best," he said. "That's all I'm looking for, whether that's first or last on the podium."

"Maybe you should race the first half," she countered. Just when he thought they were getting somewhere… "Oh! Or we could do the reverse of what we did in Florida! I'll race the first half and you can finish it out this time!"

"What? No, come on, Cruz. You can do this!"

"But you race so much better than I do!"

"Are you kidding? I haven't driven a good race—and I mean a really good race—in almost a full year!" Maybe if he'd had Doc's letters earlier, he could've learned something, and then maybe Storm wouldn't have beaten him and—

This isn't about you right now, why can't you understand that?

"Because, guess what? I'm selfish. That's just who I am, or did you forget already?"

He'd yelled that at Doc once, a long time ago, when Harv was trying to make his life miserable and Doc had just been doing his best to help.

"I don't think that's who you are anymore, son."

That's not who you are anymore. Lightning swallowed. And you haven't been that for a long, long time.

"You're a great racer, Cruz," he pressed after taking a deep breath. "And whatever happens out there, I'm so proud of you for making it this far."

For a brief moment, she looked startled, her brows furrowing. "What did you say?"

"I said… I'm proud of you, rookie. Now, go get 'em."

He clapped her on the shoulder and felt something in his chest warm at the sight of her growing smile.

Maybe this really was a perfect day for racing.

Yeah, definitely perfect.

Lightning took a moment to indulge in a smile as Cruz stole the lead from Jackson Storm for the third time that afternoon.

"See? What did I tell you? You've got this."

"Yeah," she replied with a chuckle. "I think I was just letting him get in my head again or something."

"Wait." Lightning frowned. "Did he say something to you this morning?"

Static crackled through his headset for a moment before Cruz said in a small voice. "No... Not this morning. Last night."

And if you'd been out with her instead of wallowing in the trailer, you'd have known that.

"Okay, you can tell me about that later." Lightning sucked in a steadying breath. "Right now, just hold the lead until the end of the stage. Then—"

"You've got a flat!" Mater's frantic tone echoed through the speakers and Lightning cursed himself for not catching it sooner.

He felt like he was watching Cruz in slow motion. She slid, wobbled, then finally regained traction as Storm passed her by.

The reflexes are the first thing to go, kid.

Yeah... Lightning blinked. Yeah, I guess you're right.

"Just bring it in slowly, kid," he instructed.

"What happened?"

"You blew a tire, but don't worry. It brought out the caution. You've got time."

"Which tire?"

He knew what she was asking, so he asked Mater, "Can you see which one it is?"

"Uh... Looks like the right front tire."

Dang it.

"Looks like it's Debbie Richardson…" he said, almost in unison with her cry.

"Not Debbie!"

"Guido will get it fixed up in no time. Just remember your pit speed. We don't need any penalties today."

"Got it."

The tire change was quick and Cruz was out in no time.

Perfect.

"Get back in your groove and you'll be able to catch him again. You've got this."

"I've got this," she repeated and Lightning could hear the concentration in her voice.

Come on… 

Laps came and went, but Cruz finally took the lead once more.

Hey, remember that one time you went camping with Doc after Watkins Glen?

Lightning grit his teeth. Not. Now.

With five laps to finish, he didn't have time to get distracted.

Get your head in the game, Hot Rod.

I am! Now, just shut up, okay?

I thought you wanted Doc around. I thought you wanted him to come back.

"Yeah, but not like this," he hissed under his breath, "so just knock it off!"

"What was that, Mr. McQueen?"

"What? No, not you, Cruz." Damn it. "Sorry, you're doing great. You've got a nice groove. Ride it till the end."

And ignore me because I'm straight-up insane. Thanks a lot for that, Doc.

If you'd only let someone help you, kid—

I said, stop! he shot back, biting his tongue until he tasted copper just to make absolutely certain that none of the words escaped this time.

"McQueen, crash on turn five!"

At Mater's warning, Lightning glanced up at the screens. Sure enough, a handful of cars at the back of the pack were spinning out.

"Yellow again, Cruz," he told her. "That'll put Storm right on your tail, but you've only got a handful of laps to go."

"Okay… Okay. I've got this…"

"You don't sound sure. I need you to sound sure. Even if you don't win, I want you to do it with confidence."

"All right." He heard her take a deep breath. "All right. Confidence."

"If anyone knows anything about confidence and motivation, it's you."

"Yeah, but that's the thing… It's so much easier to motivate others! When it comes to myself…"

"That's what I'm here for. You can do this."

And she did, holding first all the way to green and well after, even with Storm practically biting her fender.

"Last lap!" Lightning called. "You've got this in the bag!"

It all happened so suddenly. It always did.

Cruz had barely finished her premature whoop of joy as she approached the finish line when Storm bumped into her from behind.

Sending her sailing straight into the wall, nose first.

As smoke enveloped the #51, Lightning found himself wishing Storm had sent her rolling instead.

Why the hell would you wish that?

Because.

Wall crashes like that were the most dangerous kind.

"Let me tell you something, kid. You suffer a lot less damage when you flip your car as opposed to smashing into the side of the wall or whipping around in a circle..."

Doc had told him that after Cal had gotten in a particularly bad crash.

Yeah, back when you had a freaking panic attack on the grass.

Even now, he could feel his chest begin to tighten along with the thickening smoke.

"All right, Cruz. Talk to me."

Nothing but static.

So this is how Doc felt, then, isn’t it? This was what it felt like to be on the wrong side of the mic. The waiting side.

“Cruz, are you all right?

The panic side.

"I need you to talk to me. Give me something."

Nothing.

"Damn it, Cruz! Don't do this to me! You can't—" He took a shaky breath. "Just say something. "

A crackle, a choked cough, and then… 

"I think… I think I did something to my arm…"

"Oh, thank God…" Lightning breathed a sigh of relief. "You didn't do anything. Storm played dirty and you got caught up in it. The medical team is on its way now. Are you all right besides the arm?"

"Um… I think so?"

"I need you so be sure."

"Yeah," Cruz said after a moment. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Good. I think you blacked out on me for a second there."

"Did I…? Uh… Yeah, that sounds familiar. Wait, did I win the race, though...?"

His heart pulsed to the worrying beat of possible concussion as he watched Cruz try to climb out of her vehicle before the medics could arrive.

"Hold on, Cruz. Just wait for the medics. Cruz, wait—! "

Her tumble out of the window was the last straw. Lightning ripped off his headset and practically leaped down from the box. He was pretty sure Doc had gotten in trouble for running onto the track once, but Lightning didn't care.

Just as Doc had once been trying to get to him, Lightning needed to get to Cruz.

The medics had her surrounded like an old western posse by the time he arrived.

"Sir, you can't be on the track—"

He shrugged off the medic. "The hell I can't be here. I'm Lightning McQueen, I can go wherever I need to, and right now, I need to be with her."

Not waiting for a reply, Lightning pressed forward until he was hovering next to Cruz.

"Hey," he began, voice soft. "How're you feeling?"

She winced and he noticed how she was cradling her right arm against her chest. "I don't think my head's supposed to hurt this much. I didn't even hit it against anything."

Her added "What's wrong with me?" was so soft, Lightning almost missed it.

"We should've gone with your plan," he said as the medics began prepping to get her into the ambulance. "Storm would've done that either way, but I know I wouldn't have been in first, at least. This shouldn't have happened…"

She gave him a look he couldn't decipher, but before he could even try, two medics lifted her onto the gurney and wheeled her away.

Lightning was right on their tails.

"Sir, I told you—"

"Let me in that ambulance or I'm suing all of you. My wife’s an attorney."

None of them needed to know that the threat was as empty as the Piston Cups in Lightning's garage. And as long as it got him in the door, it didn't matter.

"How's your head?" he asked Cruz the second he shoved his way in.

"Better…?" Cruz gave it a minute before changing her tune. "Nope, never mind. I lied. Sorry, it's worse, I think."

"All right. That's okay. They're gonna check you out at the care center and then you'll be good as new."

A new thought struck her, he could tell the second it did by the crunch pain rippling across her face.

"Wait, what if I can't race next week…?"

"Let's take things one step at a time. If you can't race, it'll be fine. You have, like, a heck of a lot of points so far. Missing one race won't kill you."

"Doc, I'm gonna die if I can't race! Don't make me sit this one out!"

"Son, you have a fractured ankle. You're sitting this one out whether I want you to or not."

Lightning stifled a wince of his own, shoving it back to the depth along with the memory. The small flashes of the past had only gotten worse since finding the journal. Where once he had enjoyed them, now they were just plain distracting.

Distracting him from the race. Distracting him from his life. Distracting him from Cruz…

That's why she crashed. Because you were distracted.

No, Storm took her out. It could've happened to anybody.

Keep telling yourself that, McQueen.

"It could've happened to anybody, kid."

"But I'm Lightning McQueen! For crying out loud, Doc, it was a rookie mistake! It shouldn't have happened to me! 

"Mr. McQueen…?"

Clamping his eyes shut against Cruz's pain and confusion, he found himself slipping his hand into her good one and holding on for dear life.

"One step at a time, Cruz," he breathed, willing the memories to fade so he could think for a minute in peace and quiet. "We're just going to take this one step at a time…"

“It’s easy to say,

But it’s never the same,

I guess I kinda liked the way

You helped me escape.”

Chapter Text

“I need somebody to heal,

Somebody to know,

Somebody to have,

Somebody to hold…”

He could've kicked himself for ending up there. Actually, he wished that was physically possible. He wished someone would come and kick him if he couldn’t do it himself.

Instead, he heard his mouth order another round, as if in a dream he couldn't wake up from, and felt the burn of whiskey trail down his throat.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Lightning scoffed, forcing himself to take this round a little slower than the first. The pace was agonizing, but hopefully that would mean he wouldn't get as drunk as fast.

At this rate, he would probably miss his flight, but he'd done that before. Multiple times, in fact. It didn't matter, nothing did.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Racing mattered. Cruz mattered. His team mattered…

Yet, here you are, falling back into old habits you haven't battled in years. Some crew chief you are.

Doc wouldn't have done this. Not if you'd crashed like that.

Screw it. Lightning downed the rest of the drink. Cruz is fine.

A bit concussed, but fine overall. There hadn't been any need to take a trip to the hospital. The Infield Care Center had sorted out her minor bumps and bruises. As for the concussion, Lightning knew firsthand that only time could heal that.

She'll be fine.

Sure, but will you?

Lightning ignored the question and ordered two more rounds. In a split-second decision he knew he would regret big time, he told himself that if he was going to do this—if he was here anyway—he might as well go all in.

He hadn't even wrapped his fingers fully around the shot when someone slid onto the stool beside him. The new presence would have gone unnoticed and unheaded had the sigh that filtered through the air not sounded so familiar.

Damn it.

Lightning shifted, turning to face his driver. "What are you doing here?"

With a shrug, Cruz ordered a drink. "I could ask you the same question."

"No, I mean..." Forcing the muck in his head to clear, he pressed, "Shouldn't you be resting? That was a bad crash."

"It was too bad. We didn't even need to go to the hospital.” Again, she shrugged, flashing him a soft smile. In that single expression, he saw concern, which was to be expected, but he couldn't place his finger on the source of the guilt that followed.

"How did you even find me?" This seemed to be the next logical question, and it earned him another shrug.

"When you didn't show up at the trailer, we all waited for you a bit. Then, Mater said he had a feeling he knew what you might be doing, so we went out to look for you." Cruz's grin took on a conspiratorial twist. "I found you first."

"We?" Lightning blinked. Clearing his brain was proving to be a lot harder than he'd hoped. "Who's we?"

"Me, Mater, the team. Oh, and Cal, too."

Slumping against the counter, he massaged a hand over his face. "Great... Just great... You know, I don't need a babysitter, Cruz."

"I know. You're perfectly capable of making bad decisions on your own just like the rest of us. But..." As her smile dropped, her gaze seemed to dig deeper into his soul than he thought was possible. "I thought maybe you could use a friend."

"You have a lot of good friends, rookie... Why don't you try letting them help you once in a while?"

Nope. Not drunk enough for this.

He downed one of his shots just as Cruz's drink arrived.

"What is that?" he asked when he saw the colorful concoction.

"I don't know, really." Cruz turned the glass around a couple times. "I just picked whatever looked the most fun. I like the fruitier drinks. You know, the kind where you can't actually taste the alcohol?"

Lightning couldn't help it. Despite the gloom and haze that was trying to knock him into oblivion, he chuckled. "That's one way to drink, I guess. Hey, how's your arm?"

Giving the brace on her wrist a little shake, Cruz smiled. "Not too bad. Still aches, but I'm glad it was only a sprain. Means I can still race next week."

"Let's just keep an eye on that concussion before we make any decisions on that."

To her credit, she didn't say much else on the subject, and for that, Lightning was grateful. Of all the things he wanted to hear in that moment, complaining about not being able to race was not one of them.

"So," he began again, turning his entire focus on her and decidedly ignoring the second shot that called to him from the countertop. "What did Storm say to you last night?"

A wry grin was not the response he'd expected. "Sorry, Mr. McQueen, but I didn't come here to talk about my problems."

"Right." Lightning heaved a knowing sigh. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say that means you're here to talk about mine?"

"Bingo." Her levity faded along with her smiling, making room for a couple of furrowed brows and that annoying worry again. "Who were you talking to during the race?"

"I talked to a lot of people during the race, Cruz." But even so, he prayed this conversation wasn't going where he had a skin-crawling feeling it was going…

Cruz was on the ball with it almost instantly. "You said, ‘Yeah, but not like this, so just knock it off,' but then said not to worry because you weren't talking to me." She took a small sip of her drip before asking, "So... who were you talking to?"

It was the moment of truth. One single decision could mean the difference between walking out of the bar that night... or stumbling out half-drunk.

You practically shouted at her through the headset—

Not at her.

—She deserves to know.

Beneath the counter, Lightning clenched a fist.

Come on, rookie. You can't do this on your own. Not forever, at least.

"I mean, it sounded pretty harsh," Cruz went on, always being on to fill the silence, "so I figured it must have something to do with this."

Lightning frowned. "With what?"

She made a sweeping gesture to the bar. "This. I've never seen you like this before."

"There are a lot of parts of me you haven't seen..." The sardonic chuckle cut at his throat and Lightning eyed his shot. "That's mainly because I thought it was all in the past. I guess this proves it's not."

Carding a hand through his hair, Lightning brought it to rest on his chin. He felt like he was caught in a twisted game of Truth or Dare. And not the fun kind he'd once played with Doc on the way to Vegas. The Tell-All or Take the Shot kind.

Tell Cruz the truth... or down the whiskey.

The latter felt more appealing in a quick-fix, drink-now-suffer-later kind of way. Before Lightning had met Doc and everyone in Radiator Springs, drink-now-suffer-later had been a sort of a way of life for him. It had been painful, but easy. Easy because with alcohol, he could drown his emotions.

And painful because the press and the rest of the world thought he didn't have any.

You're slipping back into who you used to be. The snide voice made him want to reach for the shot.

Oddly enough, even after the day's events, it was Doc's voice that brought him back from it.

But you don't have to. You're not alone anymore.

Lightning squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath. Then why do I feel alone...?

"He..." Clearing his throat, he kept his gaze fixed on the countertop. There was a thin scratch in the wood that he figured he might as well study in-depth.

It was better than looking at Cruz and waiting for that inevitable look of pity and helplessness to cross her face.

"Doc, before he passed away," Lightning clarified, "he wrote letters to me, and I... I just found them this weekend. I know..." he went on with a huff and a shake of his head, "I know that I should be over it by now. That it shouldn't be this distracting. It's not fair to anyone and it sure as hell isn't fair to you. But I... I-I don't know. I keep... I keep hearing his voice in my head and the more I try not to think about it, the worse it gets."

Blinking back the unwelcome prickle forming beneath his eyelids, Lightning caved at long last.

And reached for the shot.

It burned his throat, but it was a satisfying sort of pain. The kind that reassured him that what he was feeling would soon be numbed.

All he needed was a little more alcoh—

"My grandma did that." It was such a quiet, unexpected statement that between the shock of it and the alcohol, Lightning had almost forgotten Cruz was there. "Sort of. We were all going over her will a few days after her passing and before anyone could realize what was happening, a legal document had turned into pages and pages of one last, long letter to her family."

Cruz shook her head and flagged the bartender down for a shot. Lightning had to fold his hands tightly in his lap to keep from ordering one of his own.

You've had enough. You're better than that.

Only after Cruz downed the vodka did she sniffle and shake her head again. "We had always been so close, my grandma and me, and after hearing that letter... I couldn't even go to the funeral. I couldn't make myself look at that casket because with that letter... Well, it almost felt like she was still there. Like she’d made herself alive again with it, and that she’d sent it in the mail and Mom was just reading it to the family. Like a normal day. I didn't want to see her casket—seeing it would've made it all real."

Lightning blinked, willing the world to stop blurring around the edges. How Cruz had been able to keep a calm exterior all this time was so far beyond him that he didn't even try to figure it out.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, but she was already shaking her head, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“It’s okay. It happened a while ago, and… Like I said earlier, I didn’t come here to talk about my problems. I’m here to help you with yours.”

Good luck. The cruel thought cut through the haze in his mind and suggested another whiskey shot, but he held his tongue. The bartender was down at the other end, anyway. He didn’t need to call the man back over here and… You’re fine. You don’t need it.

But damn, would it taste good as it numbed a bit more of the pain…

Cruz leaned against the counter, propping her head up with a crooked arm as she studied him.

“What?” he finally managed to ask.

She just continued to flash that soft, sad smile at him.

“Cruz?” he went on, hoping for another distraction. “What did Storm say to you last night?”

Shaking her head, she answered his question with a question. “Tell me about him?”

Lightning felt his nose crinkle as his brows dipped in confusion. “Storm?” But that couldn’t be right… Maybe the liquor was hitting him harder than he’d thought…

“No, silly! Doc.”

Oh.

He couldn’t help the bitter smirk that tainted his lips. “Nope. No, I know what you’re doing. He did that to me once.”

“Did what?”

“Made me start talking about my mom so I would finally cry over her even though she had been gone for three years. You’re trying to get me reminiscing about him now and all the good times we had so that I can get all my tears out. Well,” Lightning scoffed, flagging down the bartender at last, “I’m not falling for that. Not again.”

But Cruz gave a small chuckle. “I like to think that I’m not that sneaky. Really, I just wanted to hear about him a little bit. I never met him and all I know is what I’ve heard from the press, the history books, and from you.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m not—”

“Do you know the best way to mourn someone?” she cut in, her once soft smile pinching into a frown. “We talk about them. We keep their memory alive. If you make Doc a taboo subject, then every time someone else talks about him or you even think about him, you’ll end up like this. You have to keep his memory alive and make talking about it natural. Lightning… You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

It struck him that she was using his first name now and not…

He swallowed, feeling himself beginning to crumble a bit because of it. “Doing what…?”

“This.” She waved a hand at him, then the bar. “Running away from it all, stuffing everything inside, spending so much energy trying to pretend that you’re not hurting. It’s okay to hurt sometimes, and you shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

When her hand came to rest on his arm, it was all Lightning could do to hold back the tears. The bartender answered his summons from earlier, but Lightning waved him away, earning another soft smile from Cruz.

“He was…” Lightning choked back a rising sob and took a long, slow breath. He could do this. “He was… an anomaly sometimes. Predictable to a certain degree, but just when you thought you’d figured him out, he’d agree to do something completely off the walls. I guess…” The chuckle that escaped his throat betrayed the emotions that wanted nothing more than to wallow in misery. And yet, laughing felt good. “I guess that’s why we both got along so well. He was the one who turned my life around. Well, I suppose they all did, but Doc… Doc was like the father I never had. He taught me so many things, and not just racing… He taught me life, too. There was actually this one time…”

And so, he told her about going to his mom’s old house in Jacksonville, about Doc taking care of Paula’s croupe, about a crazy thing that happened on the way to Vegas.

About a moonshine daydream and that one curious incident of a boat in the summertime.

About father’s days and trips to New York, and airport codes and missed flights…

“I see a lot of myself in him…” Lightning finished with a sigh, “and in how I coach you, actually.”

As she nodded, a slight cloud drifted over her features. It was this small storm that had him nudging her shoulder with his own.

“Come on, Cruz. What did Storm tell you?”

He didn’t think she would answer as she let her gaze drift to the far wall.

Then, she swallowed and gave a noncommittal shrug. “I shouldn’t have let myself get so worked up. It was nothing.”

“It’s never nothing with Storm.”

Another shrug. “He said… Well, he entertained the idea that maybe… Maybe my racing is just a fluke waiting to fail. That,” she went on, and Lightning had to bite his tongue to keep from interrupting in outrage, “if I kept getting placed so low in the polls, I would find myself sitting in twenty-ninth or thirtieth before long and then…”

“And then?” Lightning prompted when she didn’t finish.

“And then…” came her quiet reply, “both you and Dinoco would drop me.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’d never drop you, Cruz, and Dinoco wouldn’t, either.” It would be so easy to say, Lightning knew, but harder to believe… So, instead, he kept his mouth shut.

She didn’t need words. Not right now. Sure, the pen was mightier than the sword, but sometimes the pen bled across the page. Sometimes, it lied. Sometimes, it hurt.

No, words would be fine, but Lightning realized with a pang that Cruz needed a hell of a lot more than mere words. In that single precious moment of vulnerability, she needed action.

They both did.

His arms were around her before she even had the chance to protest, not that he thought she would, anyway.

She melted into the embrace, returning it with twice the strength. Twice the emotion.

“I’m…” Clearing a clump of unwanted tears from his throat, he savored the feeling of her arms around his shoulders. “Cruz, I’m so proud of you. You know that, right…?”

“I think,” she said, trying in vain to hide a sniffle, “uh… I think I’m starting to… Thanks, Lightning.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he whispered, but she was already shaking her head.

“I meant, thanks for letting me help you.”

Chuckling, Lightning pulled out of the hug so he could see her face.

You’ve got a lot of good people around you, rookie. Doc’s voice echoed through his mind as Cruz’s soft smile beamed up at him. Let ‘em help you once in a while, and I think you’ll be just fine.

Right.

He heaved a sigh and sagged against the counter, exhaustion coming over him in waves.

Thanks, Doc.

“There you are!” Cal’s voice drifted through the bar and Lightning found himself swallowing a groan. “How about letting a guy know you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, Cal.” Sharing a look with Cruz, Lightning smiled. “At least, I am now.”

“Good, well I’m not.” Cal called over the bartender and ordered a beer before plopping onto the stool beside Lightning. “I mean, I was looking all over the track for you. I asked around and your pit crew hadn’t seen you, Mater hadn’t seen you, Cruz hadn’t seen you. Nobody had! And then you don’t answer my texts for hours and just expect me to be okay after that? You’re lucky I found you in a bar or else I’d be dragging you to one right about now for a drink.”

“You didn’t find him,” Cruz said with a smirk. “I did.”

“Yeah.” Lightning gave Cal a once-over. “How’d you find us here, anyway?”

Instead of Cal, it was Cruz who replied. “I may or may not have sent out a little group text while you were busy drinking.”

“Wait… Little? How little, exactly…?”

Lightning’s question was answered by Mater’s sudden appearance in the doorway. “McQueen! There ya are!”

Followed by Luigi and Guido.

And Sarge.

Fillmore wasn’t too far behind, with Mack bringing up the rear.

Torn between indulging in a nice, long facepalm and soaking in the joy filling his chest at the sight of their relieved faces, Lightning chose the latter. A facepalm would just hurt his head with as much alcohol as he’d consumed that night.

Besides, smiling seemed more appealing at the moment. Especially now that Mater was slapping him across the back and Mack was apologizing for losing him again, but in a humorous, not-as-serious-as-last-time sort of way.

“Guys, guys!” he laughed as the circle of friends continued to grow. “I think we need a booth or something. There’s not enough room at the bar for the kind of party you all seem to be trying to make.”

“Well, shoot!” Mater exclaimed, scanning the room. “There’s a nice little table over there.”

“And a booth over there,” Sarge butted in, leading the charge to the back of the bar.

The rest of the group followed suit, leaving only Lightning and Cruz behind at the bar.

“Thanks, Cruz,” he said, giving her one last grateful smile. “I mean it. This night… Well, it was going in a very different direction before you showed up. My life was going in a very different direction, too, before you came along.”

She just chuckled and slid off the barstool.

“What?” he asked, but she only shook her head. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” she said at last, turning back to face him, a grin lighting up her features. “It’s just… Well, from what you’ve told me about him, I’m pretty sure Doc could’ve said the very same thing about you.”

“Now, I need somebody to know,

Somebody to heal,

Somebody to have

Just to know how it feels.”

~ “Someone You Loved,” Lewis Capaldi