I FINALLY UPDATED. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors. I didn't feel like copying the document into word to spell check, so yeah. I would also like to give A HUGE THANKS to all of the reviewers and readers and followers, especially MrsChickHicks, CarsCars2Fanatic, and SeptemberMistAngel. :D I'm so glad you're enjoying the story so far.

Sooo... On that note. Here it is! Chapter 14! Leave a review and tell me what you think. The feedback is appreciated. I only own the OC's.

Gordon Malone was not a happy car.

"He's been there for a week and a half, and what has he done? Nothing! He didn't anticipate any of McQueen's moves." Malone paced around his office as his aide stood, parked in front of the large glass window looking out over the city. Night had fallen and buildings were lit up, shining brightly against the dark sky and setting the mood for many cars to go out and have a little bit of fun. The aide had sincerely hoped he and his boss would be two of the many cars going out tonight to a bar to celebrate Hicks' win, but the stock car had fallen short of even second place.

Malone drove over to the window and scoffed, looking over to the aide.

The younger car shook his hood. "I'm not sure, Mr. Malone. Maybe we could give him another week? It's only the beginning of the season."

But the aide jumped when Malone smacked his tire roughly against the carpeted office floor. "He should have improved by now! Hicks is in a downward spiral, and he's taking HtB with him." The car turned and paced back to his desk as the aide watched, unable to find words with his mind in a bit of spin. He cleared his head and drove over to the desk cautiously, looking on with careful eyes.

"Do what you think is best, sir."

Malone began to speak but stopped abruptly, eyeing the aide. "What do you think, Brick?"

The aide paused for a short moment before he spoke. "Maybe it would be wise to check up on Hicks..."

"Check up on Hicks?"

"Yes, sir."

Malone drove back around to park beside Brick, who reversed and turned to face his boss as he spoke. "Good idea, Brick. You can take a business trip out to Radiator Springs to visit our racer. Make sure he's doing what I've asked of him. And if he isn't scouting McQueen, you can send him back to me and I'll...take care...of things." Malone smiled a very cold smile, which stretched from one end of his silver grill to the other.

Brick nodded quickly. "Uh, yes sir. When should I leave?" The aide wanted to get out of the office as quickly as possible, maybe drop by the bar, and then leave in the morning.

But Malone had other plans. "Tonight."

The next morning, Chick was up bright and early - much to his annoyance. He had wanted to sleep in, but as soon as he woke up, he found that he couldn't go back to sleep. All he could think about was - well, whatever it was that Georgia was going to show him. What could it be? His mind wandered on the thought as he looked through the small slits of the blinders, which wouldn't close all the way, as much as he tried.

After a little idling in the cone, he opened up the door, stretched out his axles, and considered wandering over to the V8 cafe. Local residents were having their morning can of oil, and it was uncomfortably crowded for his tastes. He could have dealt with that, though, but The King and his wife were parked together there and he didn't want to face Lynda again, let alone Strip Weathers.

A flash of gold caught his eye, and reflexively he glanced over to see the golden Cadillac driving by. Tex. He would know where Georgia was, and that would prevent him from having to speak to the Weathers. Chick quickly sped up to drive along the road next to Tex.

"Hey," he said, not knowing how else to begin.

Tex glanced over at him, did a double take, and slowed down a little. "Mornin' to you, too. What can I do for you?"

Chick tried to keep it short but polite, though his tone didn't come off the way he would have liked. "Do you know where Georgia is?"

The Caddy shook his hood. "Sorry, man. I don't know where she is. You could ask her folks, though." Tex gestured back to the V8 cafe.

The green Buick drove around a telephone pole. "Ah, no thanks. I'll just wait around."

"Heh." Tex snorted. "I wouldn't wait on that girl."

Before Chick could ask what he meant by that, Tex had turned a corner and was driving off down some dirt road. Chick stopped, contemplating calling after him, but he huffed instead and reversed to head back to his cone. "Wouldn't wait on that girl - what is that supposed to mean? Chrysler."

As he was driving back up, he looked over at the Weathers. He could stop to ask them where their daughter was, couldn't he? He hated to. Strip would look at him and Lynda would look at him and it would all be very uncomfortable. But Chick couldn't, for the life of him, get Tex's words out of his head.

And another thing - why did he care so much? Chick rolled his eyes at himself. Why did it matter about Georgia, anyway? Why was he so worried about what the old fart Dinoco owner had said? At any rate, it was a mess and it wasn't what he had wanted the morning to start off like.

A voice behind him startled him. "Lookin' for someone?"

He reversed in the parking lot of the Cozy Cone to face the car. "Yeah. You - and don't startle me like that."

Georgia raised a tire. "Sorry. I was looking around."

"What's there to see?" Chick took a look and saw nothing of interested.

"You'd be surprised. But, hey. Speakin' of looking around. You ready to see what I've got to show you?" she asked.

His eyes narrowed as he locked gazes with her. Calm, rusty eyes. But what was that - was that? Was that nervousness? He wasn't sure if that's what he really saw in her gaze, because her smile deflected whatever fear she might be feeling. He put it out of his mind.

"Yeah. Let's get this over with."

Together they pulled out onto the main road, which forked off at the courthouse. Georgia took a left, glancing back to see Chick following. She sped up a little when they hit the dirt of the left side, although she took the curves in the road slowly.

The Buick was a few paces behind, and stayed there, observing. He hadn't had a chance to see this before, but her style of driving was cautious. She took the curves slowly, leaned in enough to keep her bearing. She didn't stray from the path she had mapped out for herself - at least, that's how it looked to him.

She led him all the way out to Willy's Butte, stopping at an overlook that allowed them to see the majority of the dirt track. Chick wasn't sure if he believed that this was what she had to show him.

"Is this it?"

"Yep."

"Not to be rude, but I've seen this before."

"Oh, I know. I just thought it would be nice to test the waters."

"Test the waters," he repeated blankly. Georgia glanced at him, her grill pulling up slightly in a smile, for which she received a glare, though Chick felt like it was forced on his part. "Well, whatever. What do you mean?"

The Plymouth gestured to the dirt, shrugging her frame a bit. "I thought we could have a little friendly competition."

Chick snorted, breaking into a smile as he angled himself towards her. "A little friendly competition?" But her expression was serious enough. "Oh. Sure, all right." He looked at her with scrutiny for a moment, seeing a flash of the young car he met several years prior in her posture. Slightly forward on her tires, eyes set wide, intently waiting for an affirmative answer. For the first time since that meeting, he saw not Strip Weathers, but Georgia.

"Well...? Come on, it'll be Christmas before we do this."

He shook his hood and turned to the track. "Yeah, all right, come on." He didn't wait for her.

Together they stopped at a line marked by two tires on either side of the dirt road. "On three, to make it simple."

"Any regulations you'd like to impose first?"

She sounded surprisingly calm. "No. Friendly competition, remember?"

Chick could think of about a thousand that were usually implicated, especially when it came to races where he was involved. No bumping, no cheating, no spitting, no raging, no shouting, no, no, no. The list could go on. He turned his tire in the dirt slightly, making a small print in the dust.

"Friendly competition." He snorted, again, shaking his hood. "Three laps. On three."

"One." Their engines came to life, the dull roar of the Buick's a sharp contrast to the purr of the Plymouth's.

"Two." It was a desert melody, just between the two of them, their engines harmonizing; out of the corner of his eye he saw her set forward on her tires.

And before three could be murmured, she had taken off, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake. Chick immediately shouted, "Weathers!"

But she just laughed. "Friendly competition!"

Chick barreled through the cloud of dust, chasing after Georgia, whose tires were still churning up dust and pebbles, even as she took the turns. She took them very tightly, pulling herself in with self-restraint, as if she was trying to confine herself to a perfect rectangular box. It was stiff and far less fluid than Strip's movements, even as he got older, but the control was there.

It didn't take him very long to catch up to her, and when he thought he had an opening to move to her side, she blocked him.

"Weathers!" But she laughed again, not even needing to turn around to see the annoyed expression on his grill. She held him in that position for nearly the rest of the lap, blocking his moves as if she had watched him all her life. In reality, she'd always watched his races, up until the races following The King's accident. And she had listened well enough to pick up on some of his tricks.

"How's the tailfin look?" She crossed the invisible line between the tires, dirt and rocks flying up beneath both of their tires now.

Chick scoffed, muttering under his breath, but reflexively his eyes were drawn up, a sight he thought would be familiar. And it was - or it should have been - powder blue trunk ornament, as he thought of it, but it was distinctly hers and he wondered how he could have confused it or compared it to - no. What was he thinking? And speaking of thinking - all of that had put him several paces behind her. Maybe that was her game? Throw him off, play his mind?

He looked away, gritting his teeth and pulling out his experience vs her knowledge. Because it was a simple fix, something he should have seen earlier. He had the speed to overtake her, without a doubt. And he did just that, by faking her out and coming up on her right side and instead of left. He smirked at her and passed her by, her brow rising as he caught a glimpse of a grin.

"How's the view?" He taunted, thinking to himself that two could play at this game.

But she called back, "Not bad. A little too green, if you catch my drift."

He rolled his eyes and sped up, eyeing the turn up ahead as his course of action ran through his mind. His execution was nearly flawless, which he hadn't been able to achieve in months, but his glory was short-lived and interrupted by the sound of screeching tires and shifting gravel.

Chick didn't stop at first; he hardly heard the noises behind him, but knowing that it was just the two of them and not the 27 of them, he cast a glance backwards when there was a straight stretch of the road. Across the way - and off the path - Georgia was perched in a lonely group of dying strands of grass, dust settling on her hood, one eye closed and frame tilted sideways a bit.

He finished out the lap before he drove over to her, smirking. "Did ja wipe out?"

"Unfortunately..." She shook her hood, righting herself on her tires. "Turns have always been an issue, so I'm not surprised."

The stock car chuckled, though Georgia looked a little serious, even for her, as she shook off the thin layer of dust on her chassis. She glanced up at him, shaking her tire to get rid of the dust layer there while he spoke. "Ooh. You were serious. Never got them right to race?" His eyes shifted back behind them, noticing the skid marks there.

"Exactly. Never got them right to race." She pulled out from the patch of dying grass and onto the dirt road, looking back as if to ask if he was coming along. "And besides, McQueen was right when he said dirt and asphalt are two different things."

Chick scowled at the name. "Great, one more thing that the kid is right about."

Before Georgia could answer, a third engine roared through the desert, the powerful sound resonating on the rock walls and through the cacti.

"What was that...?" She glanced at him, but by his expression, he already knew.

"Speak of the devil," he muttered, turning around to drive away.

"McQueen?" Georgia reversed and followed after him. "He's probably coming out to practice."

"Exactly, which is why -" The Buick stopped short. I can do what I was supposed to do. Thoughts of Malone flashed through his mind, along with the incident several weeks prior at the practice track and the incident at the last race. "Which is why we need to stay here."

The Plymouth's brow shot up when he said this. He hates McQueen. Wouldn't he want to avoid him? "What...?"

Their brief silence was broken by the sound of McQueen's engine drawing closer, and as both turned, he appeared around the bend of a rock, slackening his pace when he saw them. McQueen's eyes first landed on Chick, only sparing Georgia a glance and then a double take.

"Hey McQueen." Chick sat back on his tires, his usually cocky bravado returning as he started down the red racer.

"Chick," Lightning greeted. He nodded to Georgia. "Georgia, is it...?"

"Yeah man."

"I thought you were The King for a sec there." McQueen had already shifted his gaze back to Chick. "Well, nice seeing you both. I'm heading out." He started to move again, trying to avoid a confrontation - but Chick blocked his path.

"Whoa, where ya going man? You just got here. Don't want to talk to your old friend Chick?"

"I didn't know we were friends," McQueen replied, eyeing the older car skeptically. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Plymouth sit back on her tires, watching the progressing engagement with nonchalance. The red racecar thought to himself, Why is she even out here with him? You'd think she'd want to avoid him.

Chick chuckled coolly. "Yeah, well. You going out to practice?"

"Yeah. Listen, Chick, I hate to cut this short," McQueen started, eyes narrowing, "but I really have to keep in shape. Wouldn't want to let myself go like this other guy I know. Hey, I think you know who he is. Kind of boxy in the sides, let his mustache get out of control. If you run into him, tell him I said hello." With that, Lightning smiled politely and shifted around the green car.

"Yeah, well! I know a car that let himself go, too!" Under his breath, he muttered, "Screw you, too, McQueen." Upon turning, he caught sight of Georgia, who he had forgotten was there and who was now laughing quietly. "I think McQueen has lame comebacks anyway." Chick started to drive past her, feeling rather mortified that she saw that and beyond furious with McQueen for saying that.

And he couldn't help but wonder - did his mustache really look that bad? He examined his sides - or tried to anyway.

"What in the world are you doing?" the powder blue car asked, driving up beside him.

Chick felt his engine heat up slightly. "Nothing! I'm not doing anything. What are you doing? Asking me questions."

Georgia's eyes lit up as she shook her hood. "You're real messed up..."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I like you, but Chrysler, you have one hell of a temper, enough for you to make a fool of yourself."

"Yeah, right." Here we go. This is just what I've been waiting to hear. Just like all the rest...

Georgia looked at him curiously. Beneath the surface of that temper, she could see that it was his safety net. And it made her wonder what his life was like before she met him - or during that time - like who he was and what he had aspired to be, and in all of this she saw a lot of herself and what she used to be and who she had wanted to be. All of it had left her wondering what her place was and how to fit in, and she felt that in him.

"Well?" he snapped, staring her down.

She cracked a small smile. "I like the temper, too."