I already had this chapter edited, so you guys get it early :3

DISCLAIMER: Hmm, lemme see… yup, still no Cars in my possessions.

"C'mon, Doc! We're losing daylight!" McQueen skidded through the dirt as he came to a screeching halt. His skidding momentarily shocked him; he hadn't realized he was going that fast.

Doc chuckled as he made his way down the slopes. "Well, you're certainly chipper today," he said. As he came up beside the younger racer he arched an eyerim. "Is this because of your next racing season coming up?"

McQueen shrugged. "I can't help it, Doc. I'm just excited," he replied, "I know you said those awards are just empty cups but… Gosh, I just really can't wait to get back onto the track again…"

Now Doc smirked. "I'm surprised you have any energy left at all today, seeing as you spent the Manufacturer knows how long having a wild ride with Mater last night."

"W-Wait, how– ? How'd you know about that?"

"What, do you two not realize how loud you two talk? You were cruising back into town at two in the morning, chatterin' your little bumpers off!"

"Okay, okay, you got me." McQueen rolled his eyes, though he was smiling too. He then crouched into his normal starting position, waggling his haunches a little as he shot Doc a grin. "You ready to lose, old man?"

Doc laughed as he crouched as well, mimicking McQueen's cocky expression. "Oh no, rookie, are you ready to lose?"

Warmth flooded McQueen's engine at their standard exchange before their daily race around Willie's Butte. Just as it did with everything the two did – early morning chatting over a mug of oil, sharing any racing advice McQueen hadn't already learned, and sometimes even sharing small history lessons on Radiator Springs.

But it never really mattered exactly what they did – McQueen relished in it all.

He waited, revving his engine. He heard the soft rumble of Doc's own engine as he counted down. Once Doc reached one he paused.

Then, as soon as Doc yelled at him to go, McQueen took off.

~x~

McQueen thought he'd already seen Doc at his lowest. And while his 1954 crash still qualified as his absolute worst moment, this was a definite close second.

The room stunk of sanitizer. The high-pitched beep-beep-beep of the engine monitor punctuated the heavy silence every so often. A tube ran down from the monitor, connecting into a port in the Hudson Hornet's side. He laid in the solitary bed in the corner, snoozing soundly thanks to the sedative the nurse put him under just half an hour ago. But to McQueen, the only physical sign that Doc was alive was the soft rise and fall of his frame as he breathed.

His breathing…

McQueen sighed as he stared at Doc's still form. A shudder ran through him.

Even though a few hours had passed, McQueen's memory replayed the event as if it was mere minutes ago. He was in his prime back on the dirt track, relishing in the wind against his hood until he realized with a jolt that he was alone in his joy. No blue bullet followed in his wake– he couldn't hear any "old grandpa car" laughter behind him as he liked to call it–

At first he thought everything was fine, like he'd simply blown out a tire. Then he saw Doc shuddering as he gasped for breath.

Shock washed over McQueen as he approached the old car. He didn't speak – he couldn't think of anything to say. He put a tire on Doc's trembling frame – and then immediately snapped it back under his fender when the Hudson Hornet slapped it away.

"I… I'm f-fine, rookie…" Doc growled, "Just keep driving, I'll catch– " His eyes then grew to the size of hubcaps as he panted, unable to get the words out.

"No no no, Doc, stop," McQueen said, refusing to let his horror shake his voice, "I– I'll go get Mater, he can take you back home– "

"Oh piss off! I'm fine!" Doc snapped. He tried to rise. "I just need to– " He immediately collapsed again, heaving his every breath. He shut his eyes and winced. "Oh Dodge Ram it…"

That did it. After one last reassurance (though he knew Doc was too focused on the pain to notice), McQueen sped back up the slopes, determination flooding his inner workings. And throughout the whole drive back to town all he could think about was how Doc – Doc freaking Hudson, the legendary Hudson Hornet, who'd survived crash after crash, race after race, and always emerged from them stronger than he'd ever been – had looked so weak. Helpless as a newborn with no mother– frail as the tiniest Beetle–

A light knocking pulled McQueen from his thoughts. The nurse from earlier, a sky blue VW Bug, stood in the doorway, a clipboard held in the cleft of her tire.

"Mr. McQueen, I am very sorry," she said, "but I'm afraid visiting hours are over. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

McQueen nodded his cab. "Okay, but…" He gestured towards Doc. "Do you… Do you think I can stay for a few more minutes?"

Her lips curled into a warm smile. "Of course," she said, already beginning to back out of the room, "Just be gone before five-thirty."

McQueen smiled back. "Thank you…" And once she left, he realized how much he meant it.

McQueen's eyes went back to Doc, still snoring away. His tank coiled at the sight of him He wondered if his engine was still struggling in there, using every last smidge of energy it had to keep itself pumping…

He remembered the look on Sally's face when he explained the situation, how it seemed like she could've had an engine failure then and there. He remembered how quickly they'd grabbed Mater and raced back to where Doc lay grimacing – Mater had been in a blind panic, trying desperately to calm Doc down (and possibly himself) before finally hooking him up. He remembered how he'd driven behind the tow truck the whole ride to the county hospital, keeping himself as close to Doc as possible and muttering, more to himself than to his friend: "You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay…"

"His engine gave out," the doctor said.

"Was driving too fast for it to handle," the doctor said.

"May have to keep him in for a few days."

"He might end up lucky."

"But I'd recommend preparing for the worst."

"I'm afraid he might– "

A loud crash sounded in McQueen's head, cutting the memory off. But McQueen still remembered the end of that sentence perfectly – it'd been burned into his brain, making it echo within his mind like some sick prophecy.

McQueen's eyes widened with realization. His tank twisted even more. The engine monitor seemed to grow louder with each second that passed, each new beep sounding like a death march.

McQueen tried to imagine it– going home without him– having to break the news to the rest of his friends– watching him as he–

"No. Stop it. Just stop it. He can't– He won't– " He couldn't bring himself to say it, even in his personal thoughts.

McQueen's gaze found Doc again, still snoring away, still looking so peaceful yet so pitiful at the same time. He clenched his teeth, furrowing his eyerims.

He drove several inches forward. He extended his tire and, carefully as to avoid disturbing him, wrapped it around Doc's closest tire.

"I am not giving up on you," McQueen whispered, pouring every ounce of sincerity into his voice, "You're gonna be fine. I know it. They'll do what they can to fix you, and then… we can all go home. You'll see everyone again soon. I promise. We can race again, and you can talk to Sally again…" He paused. Then, now gripping Doc's tire: "If you can hear me, squeeze my tire."

The room grew eerily silent, save for the monitor's persistent beating. A beat passed. Several beats. McQueen began to think that he should leave.

Then his engine leapt when he felt Doc's tire twitch ever so slightly.

Ooh man, we're starting to get into the emotional stuff. Don't you worry, guys, this story won't be too depressing – Lightning's just having feelings right now

Thank you to everyone who's followed since yesterday. You guys are fantastic :3

BTW, the editing for the next chapter might be a little slow. Just a heads up.

See you in the next chapter!

~Pixel