"This might not be a tiebreaker race, Bob, but I'm certainly getting some of those early 2000's vibes off of McQueen after being gone for a week."

"And not only McQueen, Jackson Storm is finally present and accounted for as well. With no time to lose as teams make the final adjustments to their cars."

Lightning couldn't remember ever actually being nervous for a race. He got his helmet on before hearing a muffled version of his name and turned to see Sally rushing toward him. With the bulk of the helmet in the way, she felt like there was a barrier between them that she couldn't break through and settled for resting her hands on either side of the heavy protective piece.

"Stickers."

"Yeah, Sal?"

She studied what she could see of his face, which wasn't much, before meeting his eyes for an extended moment. "This isn't the end, no matter what happens. Ok?"

Sally watched as he glanced past her shoulder to the crew that had been with him since the end of his rookie year, the people who'd given him a home, and made him one of their own. They'd been there for every single one of his races since, he couldn't let them down.

He blinked a few times and looked back at her. "Yeah, I know." She could just barely tell he was smiling but it never reached his eyes. "Thanks, Sally."

She offered her own hesitant smile and drummed her fingers lightly on his helmet before she leaned forward to hug him quickly and pressed a quick kiss to the cold surface over his cheek.

Since they hadn't been present for qualifying, both McQueen and Storm were at the back of the line up. Lightning felt like it was cheating but he had every intention of drafting off Storm to get to the front of the pack.

It was a technique...not cheating. Maybe he felt like it was cheating because he'd never really done it before.

He still felt adrift even as he climbed in to his car, the calm before the storm, standing on the edge of the cliff where a single misstep could lead you to a painful end.

The Florida 500. Was this once the track Doc's career ended on? He'd never considered it and would have to breach that subject with Smokey.

But later, he felt like that would be a bad idea to discuss now.

Ignorance was bliss and all that.

Only a week ago, he was standing at the Rust-eze training center and listening to the most outlandish idea he could imagine. Was it really only a week ago?

Had he really only met Smokey days ago?

Was his racing career really hinging on the next 500 laps? It felt like a badly written fanfic.

That had been a mistake he'd made, stumbling upon that years ago, but he wasn't going to concentrate on it now.

He had a race to win.

Somehow.

Lightning wasn't the only one struggling. His anxiety was rolling off in waves, leaving the rest of the crew edgy and quiet aside from the usual words of encouragement. Most of them had no idea who Smokey was, but if Lightning trusted him enough to hand him Doc's old headset, then it was good enough for them.

It didn't mean the next few hours would be any easier, though.

Once the race was underway, it didn't take long to move up the ranks. Drafting wasn't difficult but it was trying to get in front that was the hard part. Jackson might have mellowed out some throughout the week but it didn't mean he was just going to stand by and allow Lightning to do as he pleased. They were still competitors after all.

Lightning was currently boxed in, surrounded by Next Gens but holding a steady fifth. One wrong move would send him back to where he'd started though. He huffed lowly, barely half way through the race and he was exhausted. He didn't feel like he'd even worked that hard, but mentally he'd run himself ragged.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly and grit his teeth. "I wish Doc were here-"

"I know kid, but I'm the closest you're gunna get."

Lightning cringed, he'd been so used to silence from the pit box the last few years that he'd forgotten that channel was open, even though they'd been conversing the entire race.

"Sorry, I just-"

"Don't be sorry, just keep doing what you're doing."

He nodded, as if he could be seen and tried to find an opening for the next 150 laps, but lap 400 was when his last shred of hope hit the proverbial concrete wall.

"Oh! Trouble in turn two! McQueen's loose-!"

"He's reigned her in, Darrell, but it appears he might have blown the engine."

"Everyone knows what that blue smoke means." Darrell's voice took on a sympathetic tone.

"Caution has come out as #95 limps back to pit row."

"I hope he didn't have anything riding on this one, Bob."

Lightning had never climbed out of the car so quickly, yanking the helmet off he looked toward the rest of the crew who were scrambling to see about getting the back up car ready.

"It's no use, Sal. Even the backup can't make it over 198. Those cars have been clocking in over 210."

They moved aside as the #95 was rolled behind the wall and Lightning caught sight of Sterling out of the corner of his eye. "I should probably go talk-"

It was chaos, Lightning was vaguely aware of the others pulling the cover off the backup, yelling and working as quickly as possible. Smokey had come down from the pit box and was making his way toward him when all movement in their space ceased. All attention turned quickly to the black and electric blue #2.0 that had sped into the #95 space. All time seemed suspended for a brief moment, and Lightning felt like he was moving in slow motion when he approached the car. Storm was just getting the webbing of the window undone as Lightning leaned down to see him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Came to check up on you. What's it look like I'm doing?"

"You know, now is really not a good time-" Lightning glanced toward Storm's own crew and could tell they were totally in the dark as well. "You've missed your space by a good 100 feet."

"I know how to drive. I hit my mark." He undid his own helmet and could tell Lightning was about to speak again but cut him off. "I think #95 needs to finish the race."

"What-"

"You heard me. Or maybe you didn't, I hear that's one of the first things to go."

"No." Lightning shook his head quickly, realizing the rest of the group was slowly beginning to gather behind him. "Besides, there's no time."

"Time for what?" Sally asked.

"Stormy wants to drive for Lightnin'!" Mater cut in.

"Tell your buddy to refrain from calling me that."

"He can do that?" Sally asked.

"No." Lightning started. "Storm just said he can't call him that."

Smokey fought the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. It had been a long time since he'd refereed a bunch of kids speaking too fast for their brains to catch up. "She means the driving, kid."

"Oh. Yeah, he can- but no- he's not going to."

"I just need a number!"

Sally knew they were wasting time. "Is that allowed? It's not even the same car..."

Before anyone could explain, it was Jackson who surprisingly laid it out for everyone. "As long as the team number is displayed, a car or driver can be substitute."

Sally looked toward Lightning for verification, but Smokey was the one to answer.

"He's right. You just have to have his number covered."

Lightning was fairly sure the only reason Jackson knew that was because of the book, but he wasn't going to ask now. "We don't have any decals-" He cut himself off and spun on his heel. "Hey Ramone!"

The IGNTR car was left in the artist's capable hands after Jackson had climbed out and rushed to give an explanation to his own crew.

AN: Jackson might be driving but not sure he's going to be diggin' the new paint job!