AN: Jump in the wayback machine! We're heading back to the 50's!


She can't remember what had started the argument, but she certainly remembers the remarks that had ended it. Well, her's anyway.

She'd told him that all he was trying to do was replace Ruth, and that she wasn't going to put up with it. He'd blanched, eyeing her in shocked silence for a moment before slamming the tools he'd been using into Smokey's tool chest and leaving the garage.

Sometimes she wished someone would punch him in his perfect teeth. Sometimes she wished it were her.

She isn't that surprised when Smokey appears in the doorway of the garage, asking just what the hell had happened. When she explains the situation, his eyes harden and his tone isn't exactly one of sympathy or understanding.

"Well, don't expect to hear from him for a few days."

She never mentions Jesse's deceased twin sister again.

Smokey's right, she doesn't hear from him, but where he said it would be days, it draws out into weeks.

Then, Jesse really does get that punch in the teeth, a thousand times over.

Louise stands in the hallway of the hospital, flanked by Scott and Moon after driving a dazed Smokey from the track. He'd been silent the whole ride, only mentioning once they'd gotten out of the car and were entering the main doors that he'd killed his brother. It was his fault.

"He was going to scratch-"

"Sm-" She'd hesitated and started over, turning to face him fully. "Henry, look at me. He always considers scratching out on sand tracks."

Moon points out that this was a championship race, no way in hell was Hud actually going to scratch. When had he ever actually scratched?

Hours pass with no word. Louise watches the nurses behind the front desk and holds Smokey back from asking for information for a third time. Nurses, doctors and family members visiting patients meander up and down the hall to their right and she wonders vaguely how serious Hud's injuries are in comparison to the other emergency cases here. She squeezes Smokey's hand once as their attention is drawn toward the heavy wooden doors of the waiting area. With some effort, one of the nurses in a white cotton dress holds it open and looks over the group questioningly.

"Mr. Hudson? Your brother's in room 11."

Without a word to the rest of them, Smokey leaves the group in the waiting room.

Time stands still. She glances up at the clock, sure that at least an hour has passed, only to be forcefully reminded that it's only been 15 minutes. That can't be right. Louise closes her eyes in an attempt to relax, but every time she does she sees cars swerving ahead of her as the drivers lay on the breaks, her own front end nearly colliding with Scott's and a familiar pattern of navy and white tumbling across the shore ahead of them.

She doesn't know where all the medical personnel had come from, but by the time she'd gotten out of her car they'd already had a barricade put in place. Her heart had jumped into her throat, fearing the worst when they had denied Smokey's request to pass through. The Hornet was a mess, and at least a dozen people surrounded where Hud must have been lying on the ground beside it. Louise had hoped to at least get a glimpse of him, to see if he was alright, but was terrified to at the same time.

Sometimes it was better not knowing.

She stands abruptly, and at the questioning looks from the other two explains that she needs air. Leaving the building, she stands under the portico and watches the hustle and bustle of the town she's not even sure she remembers the name of. She's surprised to see that evening is drawing on, the last time she'd been outside the sun had been beating on her neck as she stood in line with the other racers watching the medical crews.

Louise doesn't understand, listening as a few older gentleman talk and laugh amongst themselves and a child that bounces alongside his mother across the street. How can they be so cheerful? How can the rest of the world continue as if nothing is happening inside those doors. Jesse Hudson could be dying, their lives could be turned upside down any moment and people had the nerve to go about their usual business as if nothing were wrong. She needs a cigarette, but they're back in the car she'd left at the track.

Scott's beside her suddenly, and she feels a touch of apprehension when he speaks.

"Smokey just talked to us...they're only allowing family back for the meantime...and visiting hours are over anyway."

"What'd he say-"

"He's a mess, Louise."

She's not sure if he means Smokey or Hud.


They pile back into Moon's car and the knots in her stomach have tightened considerably. She doesn't know what the term flail chest means, but she's fairly certain she doesn't want to.

They unanimously decide to stay with Smokey that night.

He's red eyed and hoarse, trying to explain as they sit around the old coffee table in the hotel suite. "They'd put him in one of those iron lungs-"

"What?" Scott asked with a skeptical look. "Isn't that for pneumonia-"

"Or polio?" Moon added.

Smokey nodded before continuing, he gestured around his chest. "They have this band around him, to support his ribs-"

Louise closed her eyes.

"They want him on the oxygen to help him breath."

Moon's hesitant to ask. "Is that...the only-"

Smokey only shakes his head.

They find places to sleep for the night, the couch, the extra room, the floor. Soon it's only Smokey and Louise sitting in the little main room, chain smoking and drinking the hardest stuff available.

Which at the moment is sweet tea.

On any other night, the group would be up till all hours of the morning, the orange lighting hazy with cigarette smoke as they dealt another hand of poker. They'd all work their hardest at getting whatever purse money had been won that day, usually by Jesse, but he was never willing to risk more than a hundred dollars.

He always looked totally at ease, whether on the track, playing cards or in front of a camera, but it was moments like those, after races when they were trying to get his money off him that he looked most relaxed, shuffling the deck and wearing that brown fedora he loved so much.

She's silent, exhaling and crushing the end of the cigarette into the ashtray. She looks about the little kitchenette of the hotel room and feels her throat tighten. She can almost layout Jesse's routine from that morning.

A half empty cup of coffee sits on the counter beside the folded paper, and a scribbled list of who's scratched from the race lay beside that.

That happened more often than not, she'd heard some drivers complain that there was no point entering a race The Fabulous Hudson Hornet had entered. They'd scratch as soon as they saw the title on the field list.

She turned back toward Smokey. "Did-" Her mouth forms a thin line before she forces herself to continue. "Did they explain-..."

"His injuries?"

She nods silently, and reaches for his hand when he takes a deep breath.

"Uh, well..." He hesitates. "Took a good blow to the head...chest, right arm fractured in two places-"

Louise squeezes his hand, seeing the cracks widening in her friend's facade.

"I think they said a fracture or severe sprain to one of his ankles."

Smokey's brow furrows and his mouth straightens into a tight line, staring at the table. "Was bad enough losing Ruth."

She leans forward over the table. "He's going to be fine." She moves her chair closer to sit beside him. The wall he'd built around himself crumbles when she reaches out to wrap her arms around him.


AN2: Walk In The Woods will certainly be continued, but I don't always post arcs in order