Whumptober Prompt No. 11: Sloppy Bandages and Self-Done First-Aid


The second the phone rang, Doc knew something was up. No one in their right mind called at such a late hour.

He almost didn't pick up.

But he knew the kid wouldn't stop calling until he did—because even though caller ID was lacking, it couldn't be anyone else but the kid.

Apparently, the voice on the other end didn't know he'd picked up. That, or it didn't really care.

"I'm telling you! He's gonna pick up! Knock it off, Cal, we're fine, just—Oh wait, hello?"

Doc didn't even attempt to stifle his sigh. "All right, what's going on?"

"What do you mean, what's going on? Nothing's going on. We're fine."

"Come on, Lightning," a familiar drawl sounded from somewhere in the background. "Just tell him and get it over with."

"Okay, okay!" came Lightning's hissed reply. To Doc, he said, "So, you're probably gonna laugh when I say this—and if you don't laugh now, you'll definitely be laughing later! But, uh, Cal and I were wondering if you could, uh, come pick us up…?"

Doc gave the bridge of his nose a quick massage. "That all depends. Where are you?"

The silence was deafening.

"Lightning?"

"Just tell him! Rip it off like a bandaid."

When Lightning whispered something to Cal that Doc couldn't make out, he heaved another sigh.

"I've told you before, rookie, I don't talk to air. So either spit it out or I'm hanging up."

"Wait! Uh, okay, so this is the funny part…"

He could almost picture the young Dinoco driver rolling his eyes at his friend. "Yeah, right."

"Lightning. Where. Are you?"

"Jail."

Oh, it's way too late for this.

Activity in the motorhome had long since died down for the evening. A glass of whiskey on the rocks and a good old-fashioned newspaper were calling his name. Instead of such relaxing friends, however, he had to answer to whatever cactus patch the kid had tumbled into this time.

"Doc?"

"Is he still there?"

"Doc? Would you say something?"

"I knew it! I knew he'd hang up!"

"Hey, your uncle didn't even answer and we wasted one of our calls, so there!"

"So," Doc began, if only to put an end to the banter, "jail, huh? Do I even want to know?"

"It really wasn't our fault."

"It never seems to be."

"I mean it this time! We were driving—just driving!—and this wacko came speeding down the wrong lane and forced us off the street. We lost control and went off-road for a while—Cal!"

"Hello, Dr. Hudson, sir, this is Cal. What he's trying to say is he took us off-road. I was just an innocent passenger. Make sure my uncle knows what when you tell him—because I know you're gonna tell him and—hey!"

"Sorry about him, he's stressed out for some reason," Lightning said, sucking in a breath. "Anyway, we ended up, uh, somewhere we weren't supposed to be, you could say. Some overgrown park that did not look like city-owned property, and we, uh…" The forced chuckle on the other end was anything but reassuring. "We may have destroyed a fence. Or two. And a couple of bushes nobody cares about."

Breathe. Doc let his lungs work through his rising irritation for him.

"All right." If his voice sounded calm, it was only by the grace of God. "So, where's the car?"

"… In the fountain."

"In the fountain. The new sports car?"

"He can't hear you if you just nod!"

"I know, Cal!"

Luckily, the doctor in him decided to take over because Judge Hudson was inches away from serving them with ten years for disrupting the peace. "Are you both all right?"

"We're fine. Just a little scraped up, that's all."

"How much is a little?"

"Well, Lightning got this—"

"We're fine, okay? The cops here won't even let us out! It's like they don't even know who we are."

"Imagine that."

"So… you can come get us, right?"

Doc shot the clock a lazy glance, doing nothing to push the smirk off his face. "Sure, boys. First thing in the morning."

"What? Doc, you know there's a race tomorrow night, right?"

"I haven't forgotten. Thought you might've, though. Glad to see you boys are still on top of things."

"You're seriously just going to leave us here?"

"You seriously destroyed public property again? Sorry, kid." Though Doc tried to sound empathetic, it didn't come off very well. "I'd love to come bail you out, but you do the crime, you do the time."

"Man, I wish you weren't a judge," Lightning groaned.

"And I wish you two would've stayed closer to the track instead of riding crazy all over the countryside like banshees. I guess we can't always get what we want."

"You got that right," came the grumbled response.

"Well, you boys have a nice night in the county jail. Tomorrow, we'll reassess and see how much you two owe in property damage. Goodnight."

The phone slammed in his ear, yet Doc couldn't help but laugh.

Well, a night in jail never hurt anybody.

The plan had been to sip slow on whiskey and fall asleep reading the paper. It was a great plan; a relaxing end to a full day of travel and practice.

His brain decided to throw this plan out the window when, an hour or two later, it still wouldn't stop reminding him of Lightning and Cal.

The least you could do is tell the boy's uncle.

He tried arguing with himself. Strip's probably not even awake at this hour.

But maybe he was waiting for Cal to get back. Linda's probably worried.

It has been a while…

In the end, his feet dragged him over to the Dinoco luxury motorhome, where the lights were on and the Weathers team was decidedly not asleep.

"It's two o'clock," he said when Strip opened the door. "Do you know where your kids are?"

"This'd better be some sort of a joke…"

"Oh," Doc replied as the former racing champion invited him inside, "Lightning has assured me I'll be laughing about all this later. And Cal wanted you to know that he wasn't the one driving."

"All right," Strip said, rubbing at his temple, a ghost of a smile stretching his lips. "You might want to start over. Where's my kid and what've you done with him?"

Before Doc could explain, his phone rattled in his pocket, and he had a feeling he knew who might be calling.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dr. Hudson. It's Cal…"

"Speak of the devil," he muttered, mostly to Weathers. "Problem, Cal? I'm just here with your uncle. Maybe you'd like to save me the breath and regale him with tonight's adventures yourself?"

"No, uh, actually, I just have a question."

"Shoot."

"How long does it take for a wound to get infected? You know, like a scrape or a gash or something…"

Of all the questions Cal could've asked, none would have been as successful in stopping Doc's heart as that one.

"What? Cal, what are you talking about?"

"I'm just asking a question!"

"Where are they?" Strip asked, arms crossed.

"Jail," Doc replied.

The King's brows shot up.

"What?"

"Sorry, not you, Cal. Ignore that. A wound can take anywhere from 12 to 72 hours to get infected. Why? What's going on?"

"No, I was just wondering… Like, what if it's sorta deep and sorta jagged? Would that make any difference?"

"Cal, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine! Just a little scraped up, but uh, Lightning's got this big gash on his leg. He says it's fine, but it's still kinda bleeding?"

"Put Lightning on." And, Lord, let Cal be exaggerating…

"Oh, he's not here. He, uh, doesn't know I'm calling you."

"What?"

"Like I said, he thinks it's fine. We bandaged it and everything, but I was just wondering about infection…"

"All right, where are you two?"

"Wait, you're coming?"

"I need to collect a few things first, so you're going to give your uncle the address. And I swear, Cal, if this is some ploy to get me out there early, you and Lightning will be doing practice laps until you pass out. Got it?"

He didn't wait for a reply, handing the phone to Weathers with a sigh. "They're idiots. Both of them. How they've even survived this long is beyond me."

Strip just shook his head, turning his attention to Cal.

Doc's footsteps stomped to the beat of his hammering heart. It could be nothing.

It could be everything.

And it could be fine.

But he had the sinking feeling the night had only just begun.


"You told him, didn't you?"

As the deputy locked the door without a second glance at his prisoners, Cal ducked back into the cell, his hunched shoulders betraying him.

"You wasted our last call on that?" Lightning held back a wince as he gestured to his leg. "Come on, Cal!"

"What was I supposed to do, huh? Just let you bleed out?"

"I'm not bleeding out," he shot back. Even as he said it, his leg burned, throbbing offbeat with his heart.

Cal just heaved a sigh, plopping down beside Lightning on the ratty cot.

Clenching his teeth against the pain, Lightning closed his eyes. "Sorry. You were only trying to help."

"You can say that again."

"…What did he say?" He almost didn't want to know.

"I talked to both of them. They're on their way."

"Well, that's good, I guess. I hope you didn't make it sound like my leg is falling off." The chuckle was forced, but it was Lightning's only defense in the face of their dismal situation.

"I just asked about infection."

Cal's quiet response drew Lightning's gaze down to the makeshift bandage wrapping his left thigh. "You think it's infected?"

Another shrug. "I dunno. Does it feel infected?"

"Beats me." He kept his fingers steady as they fought to untie the knot. "What would that even feel like?"

"Well, does it hurt?"

"Yeah."

"Does it feel warm?"

"A little. Did Doc say those were the symptoms?"

"Nah. He didn't say much about it. I was just guessing."

"Oh." By the time Lightning peeled off the bandage, the pain had escalated, as if determined to eat away at his skin until he had none left to speak of.

His ripped jeans framed the gash in a jagged mess of blood and thread. "It looks… better."

Cal leaned closer. "Does it?"

Lightning ignored his friend, examining the wound in a way he thought Doc might. The red patches streaking his skin seemed new—they definitely weren't there when he'd torn off the bottom of his shirt and wrapped the cut by the fountain.

Cal nodded toward the cell bars. "Do you think they'd give us some fresh bandages if we asked?"

"Who? The sheriff?" Lightning scoffed, shaking his head. "He made it very clear that he doesn't care. I bet he's already forgotten about us."

"Aw, he's just mad that we wrecked his town square. And on the weekend, too."

"Yeah, which is why he's probably not going to help us."

"You never know until you try."

Refolding the blood-stained bandage, Lightning began retying it. "This'll be fine until Doc gets here. They'll be here soon, right?"

"They said it'd be at least an hour. We did drive pretty far out into the countryside."

Trying to keep any trace of his dashed hopes off his face was harder when his whole body ached. He hadn't gotten into a crash like that since his first ride through Radiator Springs.

Biting back a grimace, he tied off the last of the bandage. "How's your arm?"

Cal flexed, doing nothing to keep the pain off his own face. "It's all right, for now. It might be sprained, though… I'm sure I'll still be able to race."

The lack of confidence in Cal's voice cut into Lightning's heart, filling his guilt tank up to the maximum.

"Yeah…" It was the best he could offer—he only wished he could've made it sound more reassuring.

An hour.

Lightning leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes once more.

He could wait an hour. Maybe his leg would even stop bleeding by then.

Yeah. Let's go with that.

The heat rising in his cheeks had been easier to ignore while conversing with Cal. Now that silence filled the dingy cell, his body seemed louder in its attempts to remind Lightning of its rebellion against him.

Just an hour.

They just had to last for one more hour.

Piece of cake.

After all, hadn't they lasted this long already?

"I miss my bed," Cal muttered.

"Hey, you're not the only one."

The silence returned after that, broken every so often by Lightning shifting around, trying in vain to get comfortable. The jail cell in Radiator Springs seemed like heaven compared to this backwater hole in the wall.

"What time is it?" he asked, glancing at Cal through cracked lids.

"Dunno. My watch broke in the crash."

"Oh."

Silence.

It was slowly becoming suffocating. Or maybe that was just the stuffy air in their cell.

Maybe it's your infection playing tricks on you. He nearly scoffed at his own brain.

What does that even mean?

Sleep was too far out of reach to even try to obtain, but at least he could rest his eyes.

He only hoped Doc wasn't as irritated as he'd sounded on the phone. Maybe that stupid gash that wouldn't stop throbbing would distract him from his frustration.

Just an hour. Lightning heaved a sigh. It's just an hour…

"... Lightning!"

Knock it off.

Whoever was shaking him had better stop if they knew what was good for them.

"Come on, Lightning!" That was Cal. Cal was shaking his shoulder off. Right, Cal… "I think they're here."

It shouldn't have been that hard, opening his eyes. With a groan, Lightning's lids fluttered and the world slowly came into focus. And there sat Cal, gazing at him with such worried brown eyes. He couldn't even remember falling asleep, but there wasn't anything he wouldn't give to catch just a few more Zs…

"What?" The heat rising from his cheeks was a bit concerning, but Lightning didn't have much time to dwell on it. "They're here?"

Cal nodded. "At least, I think so. I hear a lot of shouting out there, so hopefully…"

Shouting. Great.

With a stretch, Lightning blinked away the last of the sleep and rose from the bench…

… Only to fall to his knees.

Cal was at his side in an instant. "You all right?"

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Lightning forced a grin. "Yeah. Forgot about the scrape, that's all."

His friend didn't appear convinced. "You sure?"

"Cal, I'm fine. See? I'm—"

"The hell, you are." That was a new voice; an angry voice. An I can't believe we're here and doing this, of all things voice.

That was Doc's voice.

Swallowing, Lightning glanced up, plastering a pitiful smile on his face. "Oh, hey, guys. Fancy seeing you here…"

Doc offered no more than a non-committal hum as he waited for the sheriff to open the cell.

With Cal's help, Lightning stood. Freedom was so close, yet he waited on pins and needles for Doc's instruction. When the man wore that expression, you didn't make a move until he told you to.

After a quick survey of the dingy cell, Doc said, "There's no way I'm treating you here. The both of you are out on bail for the time being. Come on, let's go."

The sheriff said nothing as they hobbled out of the cell, fixing them instead with a hard glare. For the first time that night, Lightning began to wonder how much they really did owe in property damage…

No one spoke on the way out to the Hornet. When the King climbed into the driver's seat, Cal seemed to take that as a silent, non-negotiable invitation to sit on the passenger side. With a hard glance, Doc gestured for Lightning to climb into the back, leaving him no choice but to slide into what could potentially be his last car ride on earth—what with the expressions on both Doc and Weathers' faces.

After climbing in himself, Doc wasted no time in tending to the wound. A doctor through and through, and for that, Lightning couldn't have been more relieved—because maybe it was a little worse off than he'd told Cal…

They drove on in silence until Lightning couldn't handle it anymore. "So… are we gonna talk about it?"

Doc didn't even glance up from his work. "No."

"No?"

"Not yet."

That meant later, and later was never fun. Later meant waiting for who-knows-how-long in the worst suspense of your life until Doc happened to be ready to address the situation.

"Okay…" Lightning met Cal's gaze through the rearview mirror and offered the smallest of shrugs. "Well, can you at least say something about it? The silence is getting old."

"Like what?"

"Like how stupid we were, or how we should've been thinking about the race tomorrow, or something, I don't know!"

"Why should I have to repeat what everyone here already knows?"

"All right. Ouch. Deserved that one—" A sharp hiss stole his breath away as Doc carefully cleansed the wound. It looked dirtier than he remembered…

Before Lightning could continue his protestations, Doc cupped a hand to his forehead. "Mild fever," came the man's only comment as he turned to study Cal. "What about you, Cal? Any injures to speak of."

"No, I'm good."

"Except for his sprained wrist," Lightning helpfully added, earning a glare from his friend. "Hey, you ratted me out. It's only fair that I return the favor."

"I have to know," Weathers spoke up at last, eyes fixed on the road, "were you two just not thinking about the race tomorrow night—sorry," he added with a glance at the clock, "later tonight—or did it somehow slip your mind?"

"I think," Doc answered before either Cal or Lightning could even begin to reply, "they weren't thinking at all."

Weathers nodded. "That does seem to be the case."

A dozen comebacks sat on the tip of Lightning's tongue, but he didn't dare let any of them loose—not with the way Doc stared down his wound like it was some sort of arch enemy.

"You're gonna need stitches on this, kid."

"… Really?" Aw, man. You've gotta be kidding me. "Can you fix it before the race?"

Doc's brows shot up. "Can I fix it? Son, you need a hospital."

"What? No! Come on! You're a doctor, aren't you?"

"A doctor without his office or sterile equipment."

Giving the wound that same glare Doc had earlier, Lightning shrugged. "Maybe it'll be fine later? Maybe it won't really need stitches."

The pressure Doc applied to the wound hurt like hell, but Lightning clenched his jaw against the pain. Somehow, he was sure he deserved it.

"Maybe," Doc said after a moment, "when you get your license in medicine, you can give me medical advice. Until then, I make the calls, rookie."

Silence reigned after that; its dynasty a tedious and painful one.

No one mentioned jail, or the crash, or anything of relevance. No one mentioned anything, and that kept Lightning's nerves on edge.

Throughout it all, the fact that he might not be able to make the race never entered his mind. Only when they arrived back at the motorhome and Doc began yet another examination of the wound did he feel the first inklings of doubt.

Stitches meant he'd be out.

Hospitals meant no checkered flag.

And the deeper Doc furrowed his brows, the further Lightning sunk into the sticky pool of doubt.

Reckless.

Why are you so reckless all the time, McQueen?

As always, he didn't have an answer.


For the past three and a half hours, Doc had forced himself to keep his mind on the race. This was easier said than done, but he'd managed well enough. Between the seven cautions, the threat of rain looming heavy overhead, and the overall hype of the sport, there hadn't been much time to dwell on property damage or jail time.

Or the fact that his driver was out there racing with a good-sized slice streaking down his left thigh. Stitches hadn't been necessary, it turned out, but with every passing lap, Doc found himself losing faith in the bandages hidden under Lightning's suit.

The amount of what ifs sailing through his mind at the moment were more than enough to label him a hypocrite. All those nuggets of advice he'd told Lightning time and time again about living in the now and not being consumed by what ifs…

When are you ever going to learn to take your own advice?

Not applicable to this situation.

Doc crossed his arms, their tight compression against his chest bringing no comfort whatsoever as he kept his gaze glued to the #95.

So far, so good. Of course, hitting the wall hadn't been ideal, and then there was the brief collision with the #12 car, but neither instance had been much cause for concern.

When he thought about it, his heart went out to the Weathers' team. Cal's wrist had, indeed, been sprained, preventing him from racing that night. By the look on Lightning's face, he could tell the kid felt guilty.

Good. A little guilt every once in a while never hurt anybody. Especially when that somebody happened to be out on bail with hundreds of dollars owed in property damage.

It wasn't the first time his kid had wrecked someone's property and Doc had the sinking feeling it wouldn't be his last. Unfortunately.

"Come on, Doc, I can race! I can win this thing, I know I can!"

Those words had been the kid's ticket back into the race. As much as Doc had wanted to keep the kid out, to keep a close eye on his wound, the infection had seemed to be on the downward climb and Lightning would've found a way to race one way or another.

Whatever happened to not racing sick, kid?

Whatever happened to you not letting the kid walk all over you?

They were in the thick of playoff season—the only way Lightning would ever miss a race would be if he were dead.

If you keep coming so close to it, son, Death's gonna snatch you up one of these days…

As Lightning took a curve a little too sharply, Doc adjusted his headset.

"Careful out there, kid. Stick with that bottom lane and you'll slide easy under the #52."

"Got it," came the concentrated reply.

Five laps to go. Doc's nerves never failed to get caught up in that final stage tension.

Come on, kid…

One thing Lightning really seemed to enjoy was pulling out in front at the very last minute, going from third to first in the last two laps.

Blowing out the breath he'd been holding, Doc exited the box and joined the rest of the crew, where they waited out on the green for Lightning to pull up after his checkered flag moment.

Climbing out of the car seemed a subtle struggle, but Doc kept his mouth clamped shut and his smile intact. Where normally the kid would stand on the window ledge, arms raised in victory, he merely sat on it this time, arms still raised.

The threat of a grimace loomed over the kid's smile as he climbed out of the car, and Doc wasn't blind to the way his knee buckled. It was a blink and you'll miss it sort of thing, yet the crew chief was quick to slip a subtle arm around the kid's shoulders, pulling him into a steadying embrace.

"Nice job, kid," he whispered amidst the cacophony of overjoyed shouts and congratulations from the pit crew. "Didn't think you'd pull through on this one."

"I have to admit," Lightning replied, flashing his best smile as he pulled away, "I had my own doubts, but now that it's over… I think I'm ready to go to the hospital now."

A touch of pain bled through his sunny expression, leading Doc's gaze down to the small pool of red seeping through the kid's pant leg.

"Maybe a few stitches could be a good thing…" Lightning finally admitted.

That's how Doc found himself in the waiting room of the general hospital, slouched in a chair, fingers drumming on the plastic armrest until it was time to join Lightning in the recovery room.

"Well," the kid said the moment Doc walked in, offering him a lazy grin, "I guess you were right, after all."

"That does seem to happen a lot, doesn't it?" Smiling, Doc claimed a chair at Lightning's bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I crashed my car into a fountain, sprained my friend's wrist, and still owe a bazillion dollars in property damage."

"Not to mention the fresh stitches."

"Oh, yeah, I completely forgot about those."

"Well," Doc began, heaving a sigh as he crossed his arms, "since you brought up all that other stuff…"

"Oh." Lightning made a face. "I'm guessing it's later then?"

Doc nodded.

"All right, before you say anything, I just want to tell you how sorry I am. We really didn't mean to crash like that, and if I could take it all back, I would!"

"I'm sure."

"And I already apologized, like, a dozen times to Cal, so before you tell me how much I owe, I need to tell you something, okay?"

"I'm listening."

Sucking in a breath, Lightning said, "Thanks."

Doc arched a brow. Confusion was definitely not the word he was looking for. More like surprised or suspicious… He had been expecting another typical, drawn-out Lightning apology, not this.

"For what, kid?"

"You know…" Lightning's bed sheet suddenly became an item of interest, his gaze locking on it as it twisted between his fingers. "For coming and bailing me out and all that. Even if you hadn't come that night, I knew you would've come in the morning, so… just thanks, okay? Not many people would do that… well, at least, that's how it used to be…" A slight shrug followed a sigh. "I would've given anything for someone to come bail me out at Radiator Springs. I mean, if they'd even known where I was, they probably would've, but… it wouldn't have been the same or felt the same, I guess, as when you did it. You know…?"

Flashing a smile, Doc nodded. "I understand, but I'm glad they didn't." Leaning forward, another heavy sigh left his lungs. "Son, let me tell you something: no matter how many times your reckless streak lands you behind bars and no matter how many stupid choices you make, I'll always be there for you. That's one thing you can count on. I won't, however," he added after savoring the kid's smile for a moment, "fix everything for you. If you don't pay for your mistakes, you won't learn from them."

"Oh, I know," Lightning said with a vigorous nod. "Don't worry, I fully intend to pay them back."

"Even after I tell you the amount?"

A pause. "Well, yeah, I mean… I have to, right? Besides, I'll have Cal to split it with me."

"Yes, that should take some of the pain out of it."

"Is this going to bankrupt me?"

Crossing his arms again, Doc leaned back. "No, I don't think so. It'll hurt, though."

"Spending money always hurts, that's nothing new. Come on, how much?"

When Doc finally told him, he got far too much satisfaction than was probably healthy from the kid's shocked expression.

Maybe next time you'll look before you leap, rookie.

But next time—and oh, Doc was certain there would be some sort of next time—he would still be there to bail the kid out.

After all, that's what fathers are for, aren't they?