AN: Long time no see. I rejoined the world of tumblr recently if you're interested check that out lol. The username is the same.
This was hard...
So learning the stages of grief had been no help at all. He'd finally caved and done an online search. It felt like defeat. It felt like he was just writing Doc off.
He'd really just been facing reality.
It only left him more confused, though, and heartsick.
Was he supposed to follow those stages? Was it like a map? Because he was all over the board and at any given time was feeling four of those five stages at once.
He'd told himself repeatedly that he'd never reach acceptance. There was no way, and for anyone to expect him to just accept losing his mentor, they had another thing coming.
It was that first race Doc had ever missed that brought that lingering fear to the forefront. What had been waiting calmly in the background, creeping and twisting slowly had suddenly tightened in a vice like grip, causing his stomach to do somersaults and his heart to race violently in his chest.
"I'll still be able to see everything."
"But you won't be there."
"I'll still see it."
Doc's expression was cool, and realizing what Lightning was thinking caused him to clarify with a deadpan expression as he'd gestured with the remote in his hand. "On the television?"
Lightning had stared at him briefly, as if he'd just realized himself he'd been thinking of some metaphorical sense of the phrase I'll still see it.
The clarification of television didn't ease his nerves that much. Not when Doc had been sitting up in a hospital bed.
"But what about...you know- all this..." He'd gestured vaguely, still unable to verbally address any of it.
"This is protocol." Doc huffed and yanked the oxygen tube from around his ears so that it fell on to the bed.
Lightning was petrified something would happen while he wasn't there. There hadn't been any severe changes and Doc had explained that it was routine. Lightning had been fairly sure they were going above and beyond routine anything but was also willing to live in that state of ignorance. As long as Doc said it was ok...
And it must have been, because they'd gone right back to the usual day to day in the months that followed.
It had been unseasonably warm for the end of October and unbearably humid. Overcast and dark for a midday race, the air had been thick and the threat of thunderstorms had delayed the start time. Lightning had eventually removed his helmet and debated getting out of the car. The only reason he'd remained in the driver's seat was Doc kneeling at the window as they'd discussed the possibility of a postponement and what that could change in their scheduling over the next week. He'd listened to everything his crew chief had to say but felt like he wasn't really listening. Even as he responded or laughed over some quip, he was preoccupied with the idea that he may never get the chance to talk like this again. How many more times would he sit in the driver's seat of his stock car while Doc leaned an arm against the frame, kneeling so they weren't quite eye to eye but close enough that there were no outside intrusions to the conversation. How many more times would he have to stop midsentence because something would come through the headset and cause Doc to pause and turn his attention away from whatever they may have been talking over.
Piston Cup had decided to continue with the race and he'd watched the back of that navy blue jacket carefully before fixing the webbing of the window.
The race itself had been uneventful, aside from a few reminders to get his head out of the clouds and pay attention to what was in front of him. That had become a consistent remark over the last year though as well.
It was his wandering thoughts that had kept him in third place on the last lap, but that meant they could pack it up and get out of there sooner. He wasn't interested with sitting in the winner's circle or having long talks in front of the camera at the moment. He'd climbed out of the car as quickly as possible and strode purposefully to where Doc was returning headsets to the charging stations. He never usually stayed in the pit box long after a race but it had caused Lightning to panic to look up and see the #95 box empty as he'd come down pit row.
"What's wrong?"
Doc had only glanced at him sidelong, winding a mic cord around the corresponding battery pack. "Nothing's wrong."
Lightning had looked about the space to make sure no one was within earshot and was cut off before getting a chance to form a rebuttal.
Doc had made sure everything was in its place, pressing the electronics securely in to the memory foam before closing the case. "Just the past come back to haunt me, Kiddo. No big deal."
He hadn't been sure what that meant, but for the rest of the afternoon he'd been on edge. All he'd wanted to do was get home, thankful that they had a bye week.
They'd only been home two days when he found himself in Flagstaff and unable to stomach anything.
"I've always figured they secretly poisoned the jello anyway."
Lightning had forced back a choked laugh, because how ridiculous a statement was that when they'd been faced with the situation they'd been in. He only shook his head and rapidly blinked away tears.
"Nothing on this earth is naturally that color green."
He didn't care about the stupid jello. "How-...how can you-?" He gestured helplessly, unable to speak.
Doc had only shifted to get more comfortable and Lightning's gaze caught on the multitude of IV lines, the blood pressure cuff, whatever those things were that could read oxygen levels and the like. Doc wasn't supposed to be the one on the patient's end of all this...
He'd answered even while readjusting the cuff on his arm. Of course he had to correct their work.
"When you've lived as long as I have, seen the things that I have..." He paused long enough to check his work, forming a fist before flexing his hand again. "Lost as many people as I have-" He looked back toward Lightning finally and he was struck with just how tired Doc looked. How much had he been pushing himself lately? "There comes a time when you're just ready."
"Well I'm not." Had been his immediate response.
"Unfortunately we don't decide that."
They'd had the same conversation in countless different ways over the last year and a half and while sometimes they left him feeling better, this was certainly not one of those times.
He caught himself looking at his phone, only because he was supposed to be updating everyone. It only put him more on edge that all of Radiator Springs had considered it urgent enough to come along, blocking off nearly an entire floor of the closest hotel. Doc didn't think it was necessary but he hadn't exactly been the most forthcoming with information lately either, no one had been and it was driving Lightning mad.
The longer they stayed, the worse Lightning's anxiety grew. He'd only leave long enough to get a shower at the hotel, he hadn't eaten, he slept in the ridiculously small and grotesquely patterned chair in the hospital room and spent the rest of his time flipping through channels on the flat screen in the corner.
They hadn't released anything to the press, he'd hate to see the media storm it would kick up and wasn't interested in speaking to anyone outside the family.
It was just a scare anyway...there was no need to make it known.
It was amusing, he had to admit, to see everyone squeeze in to that room. Filling every corner, lining the walls and blocking the doorway. It was easy to tell where Mater had been that day, as a trail of dirt would be streaked across the floor.
What he'd never forget though, were the evenings. The fear of why they were allowing him to stay would weaken, RSN would be playing some documentary, news updates, or running through the driver's statistics of that year and they'd just talk. Real coffee in the paper cups the hospital provided, he'd sit reclined in that stupidly small chair with his feet propped on the side of the bed and they'd talk about whatever came to mind. If he closed his eyes and ignored the harsh florescent lights, he could almost believe they were back in Radiator Springs, sitting in Doc's kitchen or the garage. Doc would split his attention between Lightning and writing. Lightning had always debated over looking to see what had been written during their conversations but fear always won out. He didn't want to know.
Before he knew it, they'd been there a week.
He flipped through the channels mindlessly. At seven in the morning there wasn't much to choose from and eventually he set the remote aside without paying attention to what was running. He looked then toward Doc, who looked...surprisingly comfortable. He wasn't used to seeing his crew chief still, he was always doing something, reorganizing the garage for the nine-millionth time, filing paperwork for the season, going through the clinic's inventory, but never still.
Lightning didn't think he could stand to see him get any worse. If this was it then...well...
He looked up at the monitors and watched the little green line that measured the heartbeat, that weird squiggle you saw on bumper stickers that were slapped on the back of a nurse's car, the cliche image in all the hospital dramas on tv. It was a universal symbol, Lightning didn't have to be a genius to recognize that particular line. Steady and seemingly strong at the moment, he couldn't handle the thought of it going flat.
His eyes welled with tears suddenly and a rush of air escaped him. He took a shuddering breath before swallowing heavily and looking toward the only person he'd ever considered as a father.
"Uh-..." He glanced down and hummed lowly in the back of his throat, like it was some kind of reset button that could help him start over.
"Doc-" Lightning croaked out quietly, not intent on waking him but needing to speak. He wouldn't be able to do this later. "I uh-...I'm-"
He took another harsh breath and forced himself to continue. "I'm not ready-...but...if you- if you are then I'll-" Lightning looked toward the window quickly, steeling himself to say what he couldn't believe he was about to.
"I'll be ok...we'll all be ok-"
How could he say they'd be ok, that he'd be ok when he broke down staring out the window.
That wasn't acceptance. It wasn't.
Because he wouldn't. Ever.
He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew it was late afternoon and the room was filled. The television had been shut off and there was animated chatter and laughter throughout the room. Sally had perched herself awkwardly on the back of the chair he'd slept in and grinned down at him tiredly as she played with his hair.
"You ok...?"
"No..." He murmured in response.
Her grin became comforting. "Yeah...me either..."
"You should get a real night's sleep."
"What is a real night's sleep anyway?"
"The kind that doesn't have you passed out-"
"Doc-"
"-in that chair. You do have a race this week."
"You really think I care about a race right now."
Doc had only shrugged one shoulder noncommitally. "An actual bed would do you good. I am still your doctor."
He did actually crack a grin at that and finally stood slowly, stretching his arms as far as he could reach and feeling his back crack in several places.
"Who am I to argue with the Doc Hudson?"
He almost felt a sense of normalcy at the eye roll his comment received, and in an uncharacteristic fashion, he leaned over and carefully hugged his crew chief. It wasn't awkward, and when Doc returned the gesture it felt like they'd been family for decades, not merely a few years.
"Get some rest."
"Bye, Doc. I'll see you tomorrow."
Lightning was nearly out the door when Doc's voice stopped him. "It's never goodbye, Kiddo. Just see you around."
He'd promptly collapsed upon reaching the hotel room, and it was the sound of his phone going off that woke him at three in the morning. Lightning stared at it blearily, feeling like he was looking in to the sun for as bright as the screen was. When his eyes finally adjusted his brows drew together.
An email? That was probably spam, he'd worry about it later. It was the four missed calls that he was interested in. All from the same number, which of course he didn't recognize. When his phone began to ring again, he declined and like any reasonable adult, Googled the number instead.
It was the hospital.
No.
No no no no no no no. No.
He'd shot off the bed, having never changed and in his panic woke Sally. When the phone began to ring again he held it out in a trembling hand, breathing quickly as his vision blurred. "I can't, Sal-...I ca-..."
She'd taken the phone from him and ushered him out the door even as she answered.
He wasn't sure how they managed to get everyone there but that didn't really matter. Funny the details that stick out in a moment of crisis, he remembered the hallway of the hotel and how unbearably long it was. How dark it was. The smell of the newly shampooed floors in the lobby as they'd rushed out the main doors. The crushing weight and fear in his chest that only grew as they'd practically tripped over each other and the look on the nurse's face when she'd looked up from the desk at the nurses' station. She'd gotten to know Lightning McQueen fairly well that week and a half.
She'd only shook her head slightly, her voice low in the stillness of the hallway. "I'm so sorry, Mr. McQueen."
One Week Later
He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand that there was a half a pot of coffee still on the counter, or that there was food in the fridge. A newspaper glared up at him from the table and upon further inspection he realized there were points in an article surrounding Piston Cup that had been circled hastily. He wandered through the apartment in a daze and couldn't help but feel like he was intruding. He'd been there millions of times, had stayed there for months, but everywhere he looked it felt as if every belonging and personal effect of Doc's were watching him in disappointment, that the very walls were closing in and the deafening silence in his home chanted you're not Doc. Where's Doc? Dust had already begun to collect and settle through the place, which was decidedly not Doc. Unless it was the dirt floor of the garage, everything was well maintained and clean...
It tore the air from his lungs when he opened the door to the garage.
The Hornet looked no different than it ever had, but without the garage doors swung open wide and only the single bare bulb over the work desk to light the space, it was the most depressing thing Lightning had ever seen. A fine layer of dust had settled on the '50s race car and he felt a knot form in his throat as he considered the way the navy blue looked dull after only a few weeks. He stood on the step and nearly jumped out of his skin when the door shut with a quiet click behind him.
If the apartment and clinic had felt uncomfortable, the garage was torture.
It was as if the Hornet knew, but that was a ridiculous thought. He needed to stop with this constant projecting. He did pause briefly and lower his brows when the driver's side door didn't open immediately, though.
"Get a grip, McQueen..." He muttered lowly to himself with a sigh as he slid in to the seat and let the notebooks slide across to the passenger seat. His brows lowered at the box that was moved in the process, but that could wait a moment.
Three heavy notebooks had been left for him, no instructions, nothing to explain what they were for. One smaller one buried beneath the others had caught his attention. It looked like one of those cheap ones picked up at Wal-Mart, barely any larger than a three by five index card with some ridiculous illustration on the front, but what interested him though, was that it was a certified Piston Cup product. The cover sported a lightning bolt and #95 across the top and #51 and the Hornet's emblem across the bottom. It was not something he could see Doc buying. He flipped the cover over and inhaled harshly at the sight of Doc's distinctive, sharp, handwriting.
Talk to Sally about the cover. She picked it up, not me.
He'd have to read through it later, he couldn't bring himself to at that moment and set it aside with a quiet sigh. What he had gathered, though, was it was filled with different observations and thoughts from the time in the hospital...he'd wondered what Doc had been writing...
His attention fell on the small box and his brows lowered as he reached for it. He paused only momentarily when he saw his name on it.
A smaller box, this one gift wrapped, sat within. He grumbled to himself when there was another inside that.
"Never took you for much of a jokester...at least in this sense..."
He finally held a brown mailing envelope in his hands and turned it over a few times. Needing better light, he opened the door before tearing the end of the envelope, when the contents wouldn't release from the parcel, he turned it over and attempted to shake them out in to his hand. A small set of keys fell in to his palm and a soft thunk of something falling in to the dirt of the floor caught his attention. Glancing down, a larger set of keys caused him to pause and the familiar looking ring caused his throat to tighten quickly. Carefully grabbing it from the ground, he studied the two well worn keys to the Hornet and turned over the Hudson emblem key ring.
Hudson Motor Car Co.
Made in Detroit USA
He shook his head. "Oh, Doc I can't..."
Lightning bit his lip and glanced within the envelope to see a note stuck to the plastic interior. He fished it out carefully.
Smaller keys are to a safe deposit box in the hall closet. You know what the other set's for.
A surprised bark of laughter escaped him at that, even as he began to cry. There was no date but the envelope was beaten up...so how had the keys...?
He slid back in to the driver's seat and looked at the ignition, the keys were newer.
Doc had been using copies...
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, but his arm was sore when he finally reached over for one of the heavy, leather bound books he'd carried out with him. He took a deep breath and cracked open the cover, unsurprised by the sharp handwriting within. Blue seemed to be Doc's trademark color, and it stood out nicely against the cream colored pages.
In the summer of 1950 I was just a kid in Thomasville-