It had been pure chaos. All of it. The most chaotic race Doc had ever seen; his brain was still working overtime to process it all.

Not once in his life had he watched a Bond film and thought, I want to live like that.

He could do the pre-race rivalry, even the kind that bled off of Lightning and Francesco to him and the Italian racer's crew chief. That had been normal. The crashes and rising controversies over Allinol also bordered on normalcy, as far as the racing world went.

Doc could handle the drama of the racing world.

The secret agents had been a little much, and whatever crazy adventure Mater had gone on was about par for the course when it came to the tow truck driver.

The threats, though… The silent attacks on Lightning's life…

That was something with which Doc was still trying to reconcile himself.

"You!" The professor's snarl echoed through his mind like a broken record. "Why didn't my death ray killyou?"

The danger of it all had come far too close for comfort, and the worst of it was the fact that Doc hadn't known about any of it until after the fact. Being kept in the dark like that made it harder to protect the ones you love.

Should've just called Mater from the start… Maybe certain things could've been avoided if he had.

Maybe it would've made things worse in end. Who knows…?

To be honest, he'd expected the kid to freak out more than he did. After all, Lightning was practically the king of overly dramatic freakouts. And sure, he'd seen the kid's chest shudder a few times—panic banging against his rib cage, threatening a jailbreak—but that had been the extent of it.

Fillmore's confession about Sarge and the fuel had left him shaken, though he'd made sure to keep his outward appearance calm. If Lightning wasn't freaking out, he certainly had to keep it together. But what would've happened had Sarge not been so distrusting of Axelrod's alternative fuel? Had he not stuck to his strong preference for oil?

Try as he might, Doc couldn't push the question from his mind. He knew the answer.

And the mere thought nearly gave him a heart attack every time it entered his mind.

Adrenaline pumped through everyone's veins that day and Doc didn't blame them. He was struggling against his own nerves like a bronco buster on a raging stallion. Only at the airport, when they all crashed at their gate, did things start to die down.

Everyone seemed to deflate, their faces creased as they tried to come to terms with all the danger and excitement. They had a while until their flight took off, yet it didn't seem nearly long enough to even begin to cope.

Lightning and Mater had been inseparable since, well, everything,so Doc was more than a little shocked when the kid opted to say behind at the gate while his friend went off in search of food. Apparently, Flo and Ramone were starving.

With Sally in the restroom and the rest of the team doing their own thing, Doc found himself virtually alone with his young protégé.

Lightning fiddled with his phone for a while, going through the motions of social media before plugging it in when the floor became a far more interesting sight. The longer he stared at the ground, brows creased, the longer Doc stared at him.

Trying to keep that awful question out of his head.

Trying to force his brain to realize that the kid was okay. That he was safe.

It was a task easier said than done and Doc felt that familiar tightness capture his chest—the one that had seized him in the U.K. and still refused to let go.

"Doc?" The kid's tone was thoughtful, holding no trace of the confusion and anxiety Doc had been fighting since London. "Has anyone ever tried to kill you? Like, actively tried to get rid of you. Like, they saw you and said that's who I want to kill—get him."

The question was shocking for all its blunt nonchalance, but Doc kept his tone calm. "No. Not that I know of, at least."

Lightning nodded, crossing his arms. Doc could almost see the gears grinding in his mind.

Doc let him have a moment before asking, "You all right, rookie?"

"I don't know. I feel like I should be more affected by it, or something, but…" Lightning shrugged. "I'm not. And I don't know why. I should be, like, freaking out right now, right?"

"Glad you're not, kid. I'm sure the airline workers appreciate you keeping a cool head."

"Sally said I'm taking it really well, all things considered…" Another shrug. "And I'm not sure that's a good thing. I mean, it sounds like it should be a good thing, but it just feels… weird. Like, I don't know. I want to freak out about it, but I can't. It just… doesn't feel like a big deal."

Not a big deal. Doc swallowed a grimace. Sure.

"It hasn't hit you yet, kid. Trust me." He put a hand on Lightning's knee, finding more reassurance in the touch than the kid probably did. "You'll be feeling it soon."

"Yeah, but it's been, like, hours since it all happened. Don't you think it would've hit me by now? My brain can't still be processing it, right?"

That way the kid looked at him with those big blue eyes, as if only he possessed the key to all the answers in the world.

If only that were true.

"I think it's like most races," Lightning continued when Doc's tight throat kept him silent. "When you're out on the track, you accept the fact that you could die at any moment. It's always somewhere in the back of your mind. I mean, just one bad wreck could be all it takes, and then—" He snapped his fingers, a sound that went straight through Doc like a double-edged sword. "I guess my brain can't see the difference between that and what happened in London. Is that bad?"

Doc folded his arms across his chest, determined to give the kid a thoughtful answer when all he really wanted to do was wrap him in a tight embrace.

"I don't know," came his truthful response. "I wish I did, but I agree with Sally, you are taking it all rather well." Too well, I think. "Like I said, maybe it'll hit you later, but maybe your brain has found a way to block the memories—to make the situation seem less frightening than it really was. A psychological protection kind of thing."

"Maybe…" Though the kid didn't look convinced, Doc didn't have time to tack on any other helpful thoughts.

The second Mater came into view, Lightning was on his feet, joining the small group of food scavengers. They were too far away to hear, but Doc saw Lightning chuckle at whatever Mater had said and Ramone offer the kid some of his pretzel.

So, the anxiety hadn't gotten to Lightning yet. Maybe it never would.

That was good. Less damage control Doc had to handle in the long run.

Maybe that meant he could focus on slowing his heart rate back down to a normal speed. He was sick of it trying to win the Daytona 500.

Doc had always been grateful for his ability to sleep on airplanes. It made for easy, restful travel.

This time, sleep wouldn't come. That's fine. It was just one flight.

When sleep refused to come later on—even in the comfort of his own bed—he knew he had a problem. The first night or two, he would lie awake in bed, reliving London before forcing the event out of his mind.

That only worked for so long. The third night found him venturing down to the kitchen. If he couldn't sleep, he could at least enjoy a warm cup of coffee and the sports section.

The dim light flooding out the kitchen door told Doc someone had already beat him to it.

Lightning sat hunched over the table, his phone in one hand, his head resting in the other.

"Hey," Doc greeted.

The kid barely glanced up. "Hey."

For a few moments, only the clinking of Doc's coffee cup broke the silence.

"You know it's, like, three o'clock, right?"

Doc felt a light grin tug his lips. "I could ask you the same thing."

No reply, only a soft hum.

The coffee machine shuddered as if to remind Doc that it wasn't supposed to be serving humans at this unholy hour.

After several more minutes of simple quiet, Doc popped the question. "Couldn't sleep?"

As he claimed a seat at the table, the kid rubbed a hand over his face.

"Remember back at the airport, you said it would all hit me eventually?" With a grimace that wanted to be a smile, Lightning finally looked at him. "I think it just did."

Doc nodded. "That's only natural. You want to talk about it?"

"No, not really." A buzz rattled the table and Lightning's gaze shifted to his phone. "Mater says he can't sleep, either. Though, I think that's due to excitement more than anything." Chuckling, the kid shook his head. "He says he can't believe he got to be a real secret agent."

"He's going to be telling that story for years," Doc said with a smile.

"Oh, you know it."

"Heaven help us all."

Silence followed a few chuckles as Lightning typed a quick reply.

"Can't sleep, either?" came the inevitable question.

Doc swallowed a sigh, willing his coffee to cool down some. "Let's just say, it's been hitting me, too."

"You want to talk about it?"

A smile graced his face as he stared at the kid. "Talking about it would mean you'd have to talk about it as well."

"True."

"And if I recall," Doc continued, risking a sip of his steaming coffee, "you don't really want to talk about it."

"Nope."

"It might help, though."

Lightning kept his eyes glued to his screen. "Or it might make it worse. I'm just trying not to think about it."

Doc nodded. "And how's that working for you?"

The shrug was supposed to be vague, but it answered Doc's question perfectly.

"I think…" The kid began after a long moment. "I think I need closure, you know? We never finished the Grand Prix, and every time I think about it, it all feels… off. Not just because of everything else that happened… something about it doesn't feel right."

"Do you want to run some practice laps? We could even take it to one of the main tracks."

"That's fun and all, but I want to finish the race. With everyone." Before Doc could even begin to protest, the kid continued, "They all started the Grand Prix and they should get to finish it—to get that closure."

Oh.

Right…

"It's a nice thought, son, but we just got back from Europe. Don't you want to take some time to rest?" And cope?

Lightning shook his head. "I don't mean in Europe. I'm talking about here. We can hold the final race in the U.S., and, well… I was kinda thinking we could have it here?"

Some part of him felt like it was too soon—all those drivers would only add to the chaos swirling around his mind. Still, it seemed like the kid had somewhat of a point. Maybe it would be the closure they all needed. Maybe it would be a disaster.

They wouldn't know until they tried.

"I mean, we have more than enough space," Lightning said, trying to hit the idea home. "And it wouldn't have to be competitive. It might actually be more fun if we threw competition out the window."

The Prix had been all about winning until they had come so close to losing—losing everything. After exposing Axelrod, no one cared much for the race. Everyone was too shaken.

Too many injured drivers.

Too many near-death experiences.

Too many close calls…

"Well," Doc said at last, "I think it's worth a shot—if you can get anyone to come."

"Oh." A dangerous sparkle flashed across the kid's eyes. "I can get people to come, all right."

Doc warmed his hands on his mug, shaking his head. "I don't even want to know what that means. If you decide to do anything stupid, I don't wanna know about it."

The kid gave him a quick salute. "Noted."

Lightning went back to bed shortly after that, vowing to get some sleep even if it killed him.

The casual choice of words sent Doc's heart hammering.

Get over yourself, old man. You're fine.

Even so, he couldn't stop himself from peering in at Lightning's sleeping form as he retreated back to his own room. He just had to know the kid was still there. That he was still safe.

What was it you told Lightning awhile back? "If you cling so hard to someone that you can't move on when they're gone, you're setting yourself up for a lifetime of misery."

Right.

Sometimes, it was far easier to give advice than to take it. He could practically hear Lightning laughing and calling him a hypocrite.

"Why do I have to listen to you if you don't even listen to you?"

Point taken, Hot Rod.

Still, he was determined to outlive the kid, so maybe they would stay away from World Grand Prixs for a while…

Or maybe you can get over it and quit worrying about something that isn't even an issue anymore.

Closure.

That's what they all needed.

And maybe, this race of Lightning's would do a little more than give them a set finish line.

Maybe, it would give Doc the closure he needed, too.

Maybe.

Only time would tell.

Doc just hoped he had enough sand left in the hourglass to find out.