Big thanks to the readers and reviewers! PrideLander - Thanks for the review! I'm going to try to update more consistently, definitely. That's one of my goals for this story. CarsCars2Fanatic - thaaanks :D I'm glad you're enjoying the fic, that really makes me happy. MrsChickHicks - Thank you! I'm SO glad I was able to convey the emotion! I love writing Chick. He's such a dynamic character and there are tons of possibilities for him!

Anyways, here's chapter 16. And as usual, all reviews are welcome and appreciated! :3

Georgia stretched herself out on her parents' front lawn, letting the warm morning sunshine loosen her up a bit. The more time she spent here, the less she felt inclined to go back to the old house. The daily breakfast at the cafe, the access to her parents, and the general liberation she felt made her decision to stay or go harder. But all that aside, she had the nagging feeling in her tank that there was something else drawing her here.

Chick.

Never did she imagine that he would be the car she found the most fascinating. And what concerned her was her growing fondness for him, and the apprehension of the coming race next week. She had been fortunate the first time - he had come back, but what now? Would she get so lucky again? Stirred to movement by the feeling, she passed through the opening in the white picket fence and drove out onto the side road that would take her to the cafe.

She turned the thoughts over in her mind for the time being, knowing that it was up in the air with Chick - you never knew, despite everything. Really, you never knew. After all, he had turned around and surprised her, showed her that he wasn't what he appeared to be. She wouldn't put it past him not to come back to Radiator Springs if he had the choice.

Georgia passed across the back of Flo's lot, stopping for a moment to greet Sam.

"Mornin', Sam."

The big rig nodded to her, offering a smile, though it was half-hearted. "Morning."

"Everything all right?" She paused where she was, turning slightly to look up at him.

"I think so. I'm just a little worried, but when am I not?"

"About Chick?" A million apprehensive thoughts passed through her mind.

Sam glanced in the direction of the Cozy Cone. "He hasn't been out all morning. Not once."

"Maybe he's sleeping? He's probably recovering from the race."

He didn't seem convinced. "I don't know. Maybe."

"You want me to check for you? I'll take him a drink or something."

"Would you? I'd appreciate that..."

"Of course." Georgia nudged his tire gently, before retreating to get something strong in case the stock car was just coming out of the throws of sleep. Then she turned around and made her way to over to the cone that was his for the time being, wondering if she would get an answer if she knocked. After a moment of waiting, she drove up the ramp slightly and tapped her tire on the door. "Hey, it's time to get up and see the light, sunshine."

Georgia waited, her brow rising as she listened for any sign of movement or stirring. Asleep, I guess. The Plymouth started to reverse, but she felt a presence behind her. Expecting it to be Chick, she did a 180 degree spin to face him - but to her surprise, it was a smaller car, cleanly groomed, with far more subtle features about him.

"Oh." He blinked. "I thought you were Strip Weathers."

"I get that a lot." She extended a tire. "Georgia Weathers. Pleasure to meet you...?"

"Stamose. Brick Stamose." The car shook her tire, before backing up so she had room to move. "Georgia Weathers. Any relation to Strip?"

She looked at him curiously, though she retained a polite smile. Something about the way he said 'Strip' bothered her. And she didn't know what it was - maybe he just sounded too friendly about it - but whatever it might have been, got under her sheeting. "Yes sir."

"Interesting." Brick glanced past her to the garage door. "Is this your cone? I must have the wrong number."

"Not my cone," she said, shaking her hood. Her eyes caught on the hTB logo on his side. So he was part of the company that sponsored Chick? Interesting.

"It still probably isn't mine." The car squinted at the paper, before looking up at Georgia, eyeing the coffee. "I'd kill for a hot cup of whatever that is."

She pointed. "The cafe. Flo's staff makes some of the best I've had."

He glanced backwards. "Ah. I'll have to try that."

Georgia's questions - which she'd have to ask Sam - were bubbling over under her hood, and the conversation was polite banter. "If you need to know where anything is, just ask. I can direct you to the basic places." She offered a smile, a gesture that he returned, though he spoke.

"You know Chick Hicks?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"If you see him, tell him Brick is looking for him. I'll be in my cone."

They exchanged a very tension-filled, prolonged set of glances, as if Stamose was trying to make a point to her, and as if her skepticism was clearly written across her hood. But then it was over, and the car abandoned her there for his cone. She drove away casually until she was sure he wasn't watching; then she sped up and crossed the road in haste to get back to Sam.

As she drove up to him, she asked, "Who is Brick Stamose?"

Sam did a double take. "Brick Stamose? That's Chick's sponsor's aide."

"Well he's here," Georgia replied.

"He's here?" Sam turned from what he was doing. "Does Chick know that? Malone must be upset if he sent the aide after him."

She quirked a brow. "Malone? The sponsor, I assume?" The big rig nodded, so the Plymouth continued, "From what I could tell, Chick's not up. I don't even know if he's in there." Now Sam looked worried, which concerned Georgia. "Where do you think he is?"

"He wouldn't have left. Maybe he went out before I was up." Sam looked past her, watching the small form of Stamose drive into a cone. "This doesn't feel right."

Georgia glanced back. "Why is that...?"

Sam shook his hood. "Malone is a little...intimidating, to say the least. Even to a guy like myself. I'm thinking Chick's really aggravated him this time around."

"How?" So many questions. The whole situation was becoming very peculiar, with Chick's - presumed - disappearance.

"The entire reason that Chick's out here is to scout McQueen. And he hasn't done that, once."

Georgia stepped back for a second. She had spent a good portion of her time with Chick - was that the reason he hadn't scouted McQueen? No. She shook her hood. Knowing what she did, and having spent that time with him, she felt that there was another reason. But regardless of whatever that may be - her, or something else - she wanted to help him out.

"I'll find him. Let him know that Stamose is here." I guess Sam shares the sentiment about Stamose. "Anything I should know about the guy?"

Sam shrugged. "The way to his heart is a good can of alcoholic oil."

Georgia nodded, her brow arched. "I'll keep that in mind."

They shared goodbyes, and then she left the space on Flo's lot to hit the main road, but after a moment of thought, she decided to take a back street, through the small division of houses. Where would he have gone? After they had split up the night before, he had gone to his cone, she to the cafe. And she had stayed there for a while, chatting with Tex and some other cars about the upcoming race. She tried to remember if anything had seemed off, but besides the sheriff having to chase off a few cars - night owls, as they were called - everything had been normal.

But wait. The night owls. If any cars had seen anything, it was them.

Georgia wheeled in the road, turning again to head towards the old brick buildings where they had been hanging out. During the day, the neon signs looked their age, old and slowly giving way under time's extended hand, and the buildings' windows were boarded up.

The perfect hiding place for the night owls.

Georgia stopped at the mouth of the alley, listening as muffled voices split the air and crates shifted around. She glanced at the boarded up windows, at the faded brick-work, and then back to the alleyway. Might as well. She turned her tires and started down the path, listening as the voices got louder and words became clearer. Crates still moved, and tires stopped and started in the dirt.

She peered around the corner to see three cars perched there, the same as from the night before.

"Hey," she started, coming out from behind the wall slightly. The voices stopped abruptly as they spun to look at her. "I need to know if you've seen some car." No sense in beating around the bush, she figured, though she watched them closely.

"We ain't seen nobody," one spoke. The other two echoed.

"I'm not looking for anybody that you run with," she reassured them. There had been kids like this all over her neighborhood, which they called night owls (some things never changed) but the cops had a less polite and ill-chosen name for them. But she knew what to say mostly because of Charlotte's brother.

"And how do we know that?" another asked, brow arched.

Georgia cut to the chase. "I really have no interest in what you do or what you intend to do. I just need to know if you've seen a green Buick runnin' around here."

"That guy with the mustache?" He was promptly smacked in the side.

"Yeah. That guy."

She supposed the one who spoke next was the 'leader'. "So what if we saw him. What are you going to do for us?"

Georgia glanced backwards, sighing internally. Way to relive part of my childhood. She couldn't count the number of times she and Charlotte had to bribe her brother to get things from him. "I'll tell you what. If you tell me - or better yet, show me - where you saw the Buick, I'll hook you up with a full tank so you can get out of here." She knew that they were desperate for some kind of gas ration - that had been the issue last night, and they were very loud when they talked. So really, she was killing two birds with one stone. Getting them out of here and getting what she wanted.

The leader gazed at her firmly, though the other two were ready to pounce on the offer. He held up a tire. "Gas ration first. Then before we split, we'll show you where we last saw him."

So the Plymouth had them wait there while she drove back over to Flo's to speak to the former show girl herself. "I'm going to get these kids out of here. Maybe they'll find something better to do than bust boxes." And Flo thought it was a good idea, so Georgia drove back and brought the boys up to the cafe.

Flo helped them personally. "Where are you boys headed?"

"Hopefully California. Maybe Washington. Our families are there," the youngest of the three said.

"Well good luck," Georgia chimed in, assisting Flo. "I hope you find whatever you're lookin' for."

"Me, too. What's your name?"

"Georgia. And you?"

"Mickey." His tank was filled first, and he looked between the two and said, "I'll show her so we can get out of here."

And before a protest could be made, Mickey was driving off with Georgia close behind. "You're from Washington?"

"Yeah. Seattle," he said, driving her back through the alley again. "I just hope we can make it there."

"How far have you come?"

"Florida."

Georgia whistled. "Wow, long way to drive." She got a glance from him, but in that glance she saw that he had done some things and made some mistakes along the way. "All in the name of gettin' home." And he nodded.

They reached a small bridge that lead over a shallow gorge. "He went this way. That's as far as we followed him."

"This mornin' or last night?"

"This morning."

"All right, thanks Mickey." She nudged his side and nodded back towards town. "Now get outta here. And good luck."

The younger car nodded and started to drive away, but he turned around. "Hey, if you meet us again and you need a favor!"

Georgia laughed slightly, shaking her hood. "You've got it covered?" He nodded, but was quick to scramble after that. Cute kid. I hope he makes it there all right. She turned to look out over the bridge, which lead onto a dirt path through the forest. "I guess he's still out there." But why? Had he known Stamose was coming?

Only Chick had those answers.

But whatever the case, she just wanted to know that he was all right.