Woo! Another chapter. :) A biiiiig thank you to CarsCars2Fanatic and MrsChickHicks. Your reviews make this even more enjoyable to write. :D Thank you for being patient and waiting for the updates. I love that you enjoy the interactions between Chick and Georgia. Sooo, here is another chapter for my wonderful readers and reviewers. Enjoy!

Reviews, thoughts, critique, all of it is welcome!

Chick thought a lot about what Georgia said as he tossed and turned that night in the cone. And, though he wouldn't admit it, he thought a lot about her in general. The more time he spent with her, the less he doubted her, and the better he felt. But that frightened him; the way she just felt him and the relief he felt at this lack of judgment on her part - it scared him.

And now, on top of that, he felt the impending doom of his career seeping in. He hadn't scouted any of McQueen's moves - not that he wanted to, but - and he had blown his first race. He was running out of luck, and sooner or later, Malone would put his tire down.

Why can't I just sleep? Chick sighed in frustration. "Forget this." He pulled out of the cone, out of the lot, and onto the main road. He ignored the night owls on the side streets, ditzing around under the late night neon. He wanted to forget about the accident, he wanted to forget about the fear; he didn't want to stay in this damn hill billy town any longer. His career was going under anyway, so why bother? Why bother, when he hadn't won a race in seven years? When Malone took advantage of him, tried to shake him down?

But what bothered him was the answer his mind produced.

Georgia.

Chick shook his hood, stopping beside a stack of crates under a neon sign. Why, why, why? She was such a distraction. But that's what I want. He caught himself and pulled away again, countering himself. No, it's not. If anything, I need to be focused. If I lose this sponsorship, I'm screwed. Chick Hicks is done. But was it worth it? To sell himself and what was left of his dignity for a losing battle?

He felt that he was fighting a war inside himself, and without the sleep he so desired, it became clearer to him that he really had no idea what he was doing anymore.

The stock car drove out onto an old dirt road behind the town, taking the turns easy, just trying to breathe and get his hood together. The next race was in a week, and he knew that every race from this point on had his career riding on it. He had to do better than before. He had to win. No matter what it took. But he hated it, and hated himself, though he was very much in love with racing, the only steady thing he had left, so what could he do?

Out on the back roads, driving just to drive, he had time to take stock of himself, and what he saw left him with a heavy heart.

"Never used to be like this," he mumbled to himself, wandering now.

Never used to be like this. But that first race, with nothing left to strive for, had left some kind of dent that he'd never been able to fix.

Chick had Sam drop him off a few blocks away from his home, because his father was not exactly the most patient car.

"You sure you don't need anything?"

"Yeah. Thanks, man." Chick dismissed him with a gentle gesture, trying to smile to make the big rig feel better. Sam really was a nice guy, after all.

"All right. If you're sure." The big rig paused before he pulled away from the curb, his engine roaring, drowning out the sound of his head.

Chick, satisfied that he was alone, drove the last few blocks to his parents' house. He had only moved out a few months earlier; he had worked two jobs, put all of his time and effort into racing and working to pay for his own place so he could get out of this hell hole town, and here he was, coming back to them. Everything still looked the same, though he felt like it should look a lot different. The only thing, however, that seemed to be different was him.

Even the paint chips on the door were the same, quivering with the weight of his tire knocking against the door.

"Who is it?" a voice called. A small pair of brown eyes peered up at him through the glass, though he knew the voice didn't belong to those eyes.

"Chick." His voice was flat. So tired. He just wanted to rest.

The locks clicked and the door slid open, revealing two cars, a smaller, fragile one still behind the window, and the slightly larger, sleeker form of his mother. Rain had begun to fall behind him, but he didn't mind. Rain was something he had always grown up loving.

His mother looked past him. "No cameras?"

"No, Mom. Just me. Can I come in?" Chick felt frustrated. She knew he was coming.

"After your first race? Of course... Come in," she said, looking behind her, before opening up the door fully so he could get by.

Chick drove in, though he felt like he was putting his battle armor on. 'Take it off, Chick,' he told himself mentally. 'You're here to tell them the great news. Second place. No battle armor.' He drove through the hall and into the living room, which was empty, so he shifted around to the kitchen, which was empty and dark, and finally he made his way to the family room.

But there was no one there, either.

Chick spun around, looking at his mother, trying to cap his anger. 'Be patient... You only have to visit with them. Be patient...' "Where is everyone, Mom...?"

"They're all out," she replied, stopping in the doorway. The younger car stopped a few inches behind her, peering out quietly.

The Buick gave a half-hearted half-smile. "Did you forget that I was coming?" He tried to keep his tone joking.

His mother simply sat there, blinking, just watching him. Like she didn't know him. Finally, she said, "No. I didn't forget..."

That hurt. "I'm sorry... Then why is everyone out?" 'Please, why can't this be a joke?'

"They didn't want to be here." Her voice was soft, and suddenly her eyes knew everything about him, and there was pity. But he didn't want that.

"Why not...? I haven't seen you guys in months..." Chick glanced at his little brother, but the boy just shrank back, ashamed.

His mother stayed where she was. That hurt, too. He felt like a child; he wanted her to comfort him and tell him that it was all just a misunderstanding, that he was very welcome at home. Somewhere he had tried so hard to escape, and now he wanted it back - at the very least, he wanted his family in his life, and here it was, laid out in front of him. They didn't want him back. They were glad to see him move out.

"Your father is disappointed, Chick. You know that..."

"Because I wanted to do what was right for me?" Chick struggled to keep himself in check. 'Don't ruin all of your hard work. Don't blow up now.'

His mother just shook her hood. "He wanted you to do what was right for you, you know that. He just doesn't agree with your decisions."

The stock car took a deep breath, though he felt himself shaking. "So he won't support me."

"No, he wants to support you, he does, but how can he?" She gazed at him. "You threw everything we worked to give you away."

"So I could work for it myself and be a better man." 'Nothing valuable ever comes easy...'

"But how do you think your father felt? You dropped out to race. Something that not only is a waste of time, but could get you killed." She sounded distraught.

Chick sat there, parked in the middle of this foreign living room in which he was not welcome. "I just wanted him to support me. I thought he would be proud of me for taking on my own responsibilities. I worked hard for this, Mom. I placed second today. For my first big race, I'd say that's pretty damn good." 'But it isn't good enough for him, is it? I'm not a lawyer, or a doctor, or anything that Dad wanted me to be. I'm my own man... You'd think he'd appreciate that.'

"But where will you go from here? What happens when you lose, when you get hurt, when your career is over?"

"I'll figure it out when I get there."

"You're a fool."

'I'm done.' He cracked a smile. "A fool only a mother could love, right? I guess that's a lie, too."

"Chick!"

"What else do you want me to say? All I want is support, Mom. Not to come home to an empty house where nobody, not even my own father, wants to see my face."

She stared at him, her eyes watering. "Your father can't support you in this type of job."

"But what about you, Mom? Can't you? Won't you? Give your oldest son the benefit of the doubt? I've worked so hard to prove - to prove what? And to who?" Chick felt waves of frustration that he had held inside wash over, spilling over the edge of his sanity. He was done. Done being the nice guy. Done being walked all over. And it hurt, it stung, Chrysler did it burn him, deep down inside, and he felt like he had been wounded.

His mother put her tire down. "I can't. I'm sorry."

"Because you have to stand by Dad, right? Who never did a damn thing for us. I worked, Sissy worked, the whole family besides him. And this is what I get?"

"He's my husband!"

"I'm your son!" 'I sound so selfish. But why can't she just help me? Show me something to prove me wrong, prove that you care...'

His mother said nothing. Her eyes flickered to the door as it shifted open and three or four other cars drove into the house. His father, his sister, his cousins. They were all about to witness the shit storm that was Chick.

"Ron," his mother started, looking over to him. "Chick stopped by while you were out. But he was just leaving."

"No, I'm not." The air grew heavy with the statement, the cousins shrank back, Sissy covered her grill, and his mother fled the room with his little brother.

It was him against his father now. 'Damn it, Dad. I'm an adult...'

"Pardon?" his father asked wryly, his brow rising.

"I said, I'm not leaving." He leveled with his father, sat up on his tires, looked him in the eye.

"I think your mother wants you to leave, Chick."

"I'll say it again. I'm not leaving. Not until we work this out."

"Chick," Sissy's voice was soft against the stale air, but he ignored her.

"There's nothing to work out." Ron's voice was calm. "You made your choice."

"I just want to know that my family's behind me." But Chick knew, at that instant, that he was fighting a losing battle.

That hurt, too.

"Why should we give you that privilege? You threw away your chances at college, everything we worked for, everything we did for you. How can you come here, like that, expecting us to do all of that over again?" His father's tone was still calm, but the air was heating up and getting sticky with the tension.

"I don't care about the money, Dad. I'm doing something for myself, that I worked for, and I'm giving it my all. Can't you just be proud of that? You know, no. I don't even care about the pride anymore. Can't you just show me a little love? Back me up, forgive and forget..."

"Forgive you for leaving us when we needed you most? We had a house of seven and you left us to go and be something that you're not. A racer." His father outright laughed, rising on his tires slightly. "But all of a sudden, you take your money and you run, and we don't see you or get anything from you. How can I be proud when my son ran and left his family hanging?"

Chick stood there, unblinking, engine racing. How badly the words cut into his sheeting. "I didn't leave you to be an ass. I left to start my own life. You want me to stay here forever? Excuse me, but I wanted to better myself. That seven car household? Yeah, I knocked it down to six. Yeah, you lost the income, but you also lost another mouth to feed. I fed myself, I took care of myself, I did that. While I was working for you, while Sissy was working for you, what were you doing, Dad? We were being forced into adulthood, but what were you doing? Where were you? Sitting here letting us do the work. You could have done something. Anything."

In a flash, his father was in front of him, and there was a burning sensation at the side of his hood, and Sissy was taking the cousins out of the room.

"Don't talk to me like that."

Chick opened his eyes and met his father's fiery gaze. "Don't touch me." But he didn't back down, and he didn't shake.

"Get out."

"Are you going to answer me?"

"Get. Out."

Chick raised his voice, rising on his tires. "What are you going to do, huh? Push me around? Explain that to Charlie! Explain it to Sissy! Do it, Dad. Then tell them."

His father raised a tire, but it was an empty threat now. Chick wasn't afraid.

"Get out. And don't come back."

Chick, picking up what he had left of his dignity, left the room, was out the door, and was gone in an instant.