Chapter 14

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Well, the night's busting open, these two lanes will take us anywhere

~Bruce Springsteen, Thunder Road

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The bright flash of red rushed by him, once, twice, three times, and then more than he could care to count anymore.

Chick wasn't bitter that he'd not been able to race in the final of the Piston Cup. Well. Maybe just a little bit.

"C'mon, stupid rookie!"

"Don't call him that," Sally nudged his side with a light frown. "He's been racing a lot longer than some of the others, you know,"

Chick rolled his eyes, attention still on the track. "What the hell was that, McQueen? I coulda cleared that tighter on two wheels!"

"Chick,"

Chick looked at Sally, having the thought to look almost apologetic. "What? I can't help that the kid's all over the place."

He noticed Sally roll her eyes, but it was with good humour, and he was sort of glad that it was.

Things had turned out alright; McQueen was racing, and Chick was dying to tell him some important news. He almost wanted the race to finish now, so that he could just get it over with. That was weird in itself. But these last few weeks had all been fairly weird overall anyway.

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~Three weeks earlier~

He remembered bits of things. He remembered a slow burning all over his undercarriage, and a thick dense smell which he later realised must have been smoke. His eyes had watered, but he'd been too busy trying to remember what consciousness was, and how he was supposed to keep it.

The gorge was hard, that's all he could remember thinking. It was funny really; how could he have expected it to be anything else? But he remembered, as his tires crunched into uneven ground, and his suspension seemed to drill him into the ground for a few agonising seconds, how incredibly hard everything was. He remembered thinking how expensive those tires had been, all ready for the big race, and now they were ruined, ripped to shreds.

He didn't remember anything else. He didn't even think to remember Lightning, who had jumped with him, and who might be in this same position now. Maybe that was why he couldn't remember anything else, because that just didn't bear thinking about.

None of it had mattered though. Not in the end. Whenever the end happened to be.

Everything after the gorge was weird and disorientating for a little while after. He thought there had been mechanics, and strange sensations around his bonnet, and voices that were too low. He wanted to yell at them; speak louder! I can't hear a damn word you're sayin'! I got a race to get to, y' know!

He couldn't say anything. He wasn't sure if he even had a mouth to speak with at that point.

Then something had happened that had sparked something in his memory. He was sure of it, although it might have been a very vivid dream.

McQueen was there at his side, and his voice was familiar and not so hard to hear as all those other voices. It even made him think he might actually have a mouth, and maybe he should say something back.

When he did speak it sounded like thick water rushing through his brain, and though it had hurt, it was almost welcomed when he noticed McQueen's small smile. For some reason it was a good thing; although his mind couldn't quite catch up with why it was just yet.

Everything was still fuzzy and smelt of thick smoke.

It'd be like that for a good couple of weeks. Then Chick came to his senses and almost died of embarrassment.

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"Easy, Chick. You've had some major overhauling done, there,"

Chick had winced away from his crew chief, and anyone else who beared his many sponsors when they greeted him outside of the mechanics. He supposed he should have been grateful. They'd arranged a quiet evening for his departure, so that no photographers would be there, and they'd timed it right.

Not one flashing camera in sight, not one probing mike, and for once Chick reveled in it. There was nothing more perfect than feeling ordinary. He didn't think he had the energy for all that bravado today, anyway.

"You want a lift home, Chick?" his crew chief was suitably concerned, and that was where Chick noticed it. He stopped in his tired, rolling tracks and blinked up at the crew chief.

It was awful. He barely even remembered the guy's full name, and yet he'd been there for all his racing life. Giving him advice, telling him what was best, actually caring.

Chick blinked, feeling a little disgusted at himself. "Nah. I don't need a lift tonight, ah, Toby," he hesitated. "But, um. Thanks, anyway."

He wheeled in the opposite direction before he might gain the crew chief's reaction. Probably keeled over in shock round about now. Chick could almost smile, until he remembered everything else in his dismal life, and then he just felt a bit empty and embarrassed again.

He knew only one thing; he had to talk to Lightning McQueen.

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Maybe his brain was still a bit messed up from the gorge incident, but Chick didn't realise it might seem odd to ring Lightning McQueen at a little past midnight, and then expect Lightning to meet him in a dubious looking bar on the outskirts of town after a simple; "hey, it's Chick."

But Lightning didn't say much on the phone, and Chick waited in the bar, slurping on a can of gasohol he knew he shouldn't really be indulging in, after everything the mechanics had advised him about.

It was quiet in the bar, so he knew immediately when McQueen arrived, looking anxious and upset all at once.

"What are you doing out here?" the red car was right in his face, hissing, before Chick could even begin.

Chick opened his mouth dumbly, and then didn't know what to say. It was strange; the last time he'd seen McQueen it had all been white and dream-like, and smoke had been everywhere. McQueen had looked like safety, and that had seemed to be reason enough for Chick to see him now. Only now McQueen looked angry. Real angry.

"I-" Chick felt stupid now, too. He shook his front. "Look, can I get you a drink?" he attempted.

"What?" McQueen blinked past Chick to the bar, "what...you...no I don't want a drink, you moron!"

"-Hey!" Chick raised up a bit, feeling more defensive than insulted. "What's with this attitude, McQueen? I'm out here, inviting you out for a drink, I'm even offering to pay, and you're calling me a moron?"

McQueen shook his head, a little more baffled than angry now.

"Is it any surprise? You've just been in a huge accident, next thing I know you're ringing me in the middle of the night, and you're out drinking!"

"Yeah. So?"

"So? You think anyone's told me anything? For all I know, you could've escaped! Or been in trouble…or dead!"

Chick stared at him for a tiny moment, then turned a sombre look at his can. "Well I'm not. I'm drinking, and everything's fine. So you can go now if you want, rook,"

"I-I—won't." McQueen bit his lip into a tight pout. "I might as well have a drink, now," he set himself squarely and huffily next to Chick, and Chick smiled hopefully as he ordered another round.

He wasn't sure, but this seemed alright. He was feeling himself relax a bit, and he felt less muddled than he had when he'd first left the mechanics that night.

"So what did the docs say?" McQueen's voice sounded forcibly controlled, like he was trying to swallow sickness. Chick really didn't like it, but he answered;

"Same old stuff. Same old. Just gotta take it easy and all that,"

"And?"

"And what?" Chick looked at McQueen.

"And the race. You know, the Piston Cup. Can you race?"

It was funny. Through the whole thing, Chick hadn't spared the cup a single thought. Since waking and gathering his mind back into something comprehensible, he hadn't thought of much at all, other than wanting to speak to McQueen. And even then, he had never been sure what he would say to him.

He realised this right at that moment in the bar, and then wondered what the hell he was doing there, dragging McQueen along with him. Just what exactly had he planned to say? Or why couldn't it have waited till tomorrow, when his mind felt a bit more...together?

Dear Ford, no wonder McQueen had been so angry...

"McQueen-"

"The race," McQueen repeated, with concern. Then Chick remembered Lightning had been asking him about the race.

"Oh. Yeah. Well, obviously I can't compete no more, McQueen."

McQueen's eyes widened; "what? you mean never again?"

"No," Chick snorted. "Just for this final. They said I should be okay for next season, though." he grinned, and hoped it was vaguely ominous and threatening. McQueen's unimpressed face clearly said not.

"So you're missing the race," McQueen repeated, and looked more like he was talking to himself. He looked at Chick again, and the anger seemed to have all been seeped out and replaced with something softer.

Chick remembered it from before, before the gorge had happened. It made him feel...safe, or something. It was that feeling he'd been trying to grasp ever since he'd properly woken up in a state of confusion.

"Chick, I still don't understand why you did that," Lightning said in a voice that matched his soft expression.

"What?"

"You know what."

"No I don't," Chick took a hasty sip on his gasohol. Maybe he did know, his mind just didn't want him to remember just yet.

"You swapped the motors round. You know it,"

Chick tried to keep his gaze hard on his can, but he could feel McQueen staring at him, and it was uncompromising and inescapable. This was what he'd been feeling so embarrassed about, then.

"What else can I say?" Chick told his can. "I swapped the motors, big deal. It's over now. No harm done,"

"What're you talking about, Chick? You nearly died,"

It hadn't felt like death to Chick. He wasn't sure why McQueen was making such a fuss about it all.

"Chick...I went to see you every day. At the mechanics. I thought you were gonna die,"

McQueen's eyes were large and wide. He looked upset and it made Chick's guts ache, just like before; when they'd been trapped in terrible garages, and stuck in mud, and Lightning had saved him anyway. And then when Chick had thought Lightning was dead...Chick didn't want to know that feeling again.

"McQueen," he started, and hated that he sounded rather pathetic, "I've been...this is dumb. Calling you out here," he gestured round the dead bar. "I guess I just wanted to make sure you're all okay. And you are. So, er, I better get going," he began to reverse round, away from McQueen, but the other car followed him, his face stern.

"You're right, this was dumb, Chick," he said, blocking Chick's path. "You've done a few pretty dumb things, these past few days. "

Chick bumped him, wanting to get out of the bar, and McQueen let him through.

Outside it was cool and things seemed to be clearer in Chick's mind. He looked at the sky and it looked just like those days before, on the wasteland. It was almost like nothing had changed.

"I must have lost my mind," he said aloud, knowing that McQueen was just behind him. "That's what's happened," he took a moment to confront his thoughts. His mind was still a little messed up; he couldn't tell if it was just playing with him.

But it stayed resolute and stubborn, so maybe it was telling the truth.

He looked round at McQueen.

"You're like...well, it's like, I don't usually get attached to things, you know? I don't think I ever...not before..." he tried to process the words into proper order, it almost hurt. "I mean, I was just leavin' the mechanics tonight, McQueen, and my crew chief met me. Then I realised I barely even spoke to him. Like, ever."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I never spoke to him! None of em. I just treated them all like...like tools. And I only just realised that. That's real bad, isn't it?"

"Well, yeah," McQueen sounded like he might be smiling. He rolled to Chick's side. "but at least you finally realised it."

Chick cast him a withering look; "point is, you're like the first car I thought of as…"

"A friend?" McQueen supplied, hopeful.

"Oh, um. Yeah. Whatever. Friend."

"Nice," McQueen nodded. He sounded like he might be smiling a bit more. "Well I would have hoped so,"

"What?"

"Well you're my friend now. It'd be kinda weird if I weren't yours too, right?"

"Uh. I guess so." Chick wasn't sure if that made any sense, but he was more distracted by a strange sense of relief, and an urge to grin stupidly at McQueen.

He managed to contain the grin, and instead gave McQueen a knock on the wing;

"Bet you're glad we don't have to worry about psycho bikers anymore, huh?"

"I wouldn't even bet," Lightning smirked.

Chick mirrored it, and even though they weren't in mortal danger anymore, things felt like they had when they'd been travelling, but in a good way. He guessed that might be what friends were all about. Hanging out without all the negative bits, like psycho bikers and imposing trucks.

"Well, rook. Shame about this year, but next year I'll be leaving you in the dust,"

"Yeah, right," McQueen rolled his eyes.

He went on to tell Chick he was insane and needed to check his clock before calling cars in the middle of the night, but Chick didn't remember much else, besides McQueen insisting he drive him home, and somehow Chick was happy about it.

He was tired, and his mind told him that things were okay now. He'd get over it; even if he had a hangover in the morning.

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He did get a hangover, and he complained loudly about it to the press, but not about much else.

It would have been tempting to go all out, and proclaim himself a hero of sorts, but Chick was surprised to find Lightning McQueen had beat him there too.

A four page paper spread about their little adventure, and Lightning McQueen telling the entire race world about damaged axles, falling rocks, and Chick Hick's saving his life. How surreal it was.

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"Hey Chick, you heard the news?" Mac yelled, dangling a newspaper in his mouth.

Chick turned round and nodded; "somethin' to celebrate, right?" he nudged Sally with a grin; "Doesn't look like Lightning will be,"

"He's winning!" the Porsche protested.

Lightning didn't win, but it was close; a photo finish between him and another up and coming rookie. Taking his second place, Lightning greeted everyone with a pleased and tired grin.

"You were great, Lightning," Sally nuzzled into him.

"Bestest race car in the world!" said Mater.

"Pft. I've seen asthmatic snails move faster." Chick told him. "Better watch out, old man. Those rookie's'll be all over you,"

"Old man? You're kiddin', aren't you?"

"Well it's either that or Rookie. Take your pick, old man," Chick said.

"You could always try 'Lightning?'" McQueen suggested.

"I think I like old man better."

"If I'm an old man, you must be...older."

"Shut up. I've got news for you." Chick said."think they've caught our old pal Dolpha,"

Lightning's eyes widened. "You're serious?"

"Uh-huh. It's all in the news, McQueen."

"Well what happened? Tell me everything!"

"Not so fast, old man. First, tell me. How's it feel to be a part of the great Runners-Up Club?"

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Inside the bar, where everyone was mingling and talking, everything was better.

"Chick, why don't you come outside? Watch us race properly?"

Not everything was better, of course.

Lightning had understood Chick's confusion that night in the bar, and why he'd asked to see him. But he also knew Chick was never going to get all sentimental and tell Lightning he actually cared, and that he wanted to be friends. So they'd never really mentioned it again, and that had worked out fine.

Being friends with Chick was fine, even if he found it easier to call Mater something less flattering, and flirted wildly with Sally. Sally was insistent that it was all in fun, but Lightning would never put anything past Chick, who was dirty in more ways than his racing.

"One day she'll leave me and go off with you," Lightning pouted, when Chick flashed Sally a wink from across the bar.

"I'm not gonna deny I'm a beast," Chick said unapologetically.

Lightning continued to pout; "yeah, yeah. Come on, Chick. Why don't you come watch outside?"

"You know why. I can see the race just fine from the monitors, anyway."

Lightning sighed. "The King isn't gonna hunt you down for being friends with me,"

"You don't know that," Chick said sheepishly. "He hates me,"

"No he doesn't," Lightning sighed again. He'd been through all this with Chick a few times, but much more with Sally. Sally hadn't had much better luck convincing Chick that things were okay. He just wouldn't listen.

Doc had almost got him round a couple of times. It was kind of incredible; Chick seemed to fawn over the Doc a little; and had immediately recognised him. It had made Lightning feel rather stupid for not knowing who Doc was originally. Chick hadn't let that one go, just yet.

"The King will forgive you," Lightning started.

"-I trashed him up-"

"And he'll forgive you. He knows you were just incredibly stupid. He knows what it's like. He's the King!"

"Have you spoke to him?"

"Maybe,"

"You…what?!-"

"Calm down. He isn't coming, or anything. But one day you'll have to face him. Properly."

Lightning watched Chick take an unconvinced slurp on his can.

"One step at a time, rookie. One step at a time. You know it's hard enough for me just trying to put up with all your demented friends,"

"You're not funny," Lightning scolded, but a smile pulled at his mouth. "Hey Chick?"

"Hmm?"

"I kinda like being part of the Runners-Up club."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. This one, anyway."

Chick smiled back. He couldn't help it.

"Same here, rookie."

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END