They sat there a while, side by side on that third step for what felt like hours. Reality told Doc it had only been about five minutes, but he still felt trapped in a world where time moved both slower than the longest eternity and faster than a heart attack.
As Doc mulled over Lightning's pained confession, the kid shifted and swiped at his eyes. Then, almost as abruptly as he'd first sat down, Lightning stood and finished the climb to the second floor that he'd started what felt like ages ago.
For a moment, Doc bided his time, clasping his palms tightly together and taking in a long, slow breath.
They could do this. Somehow, they would have to do this. If he hadn't been absolutely certain that Harv was a deplorable agent before, he sure as hell was now.
Every time Lightning's words replayed themselves in Doc's mind, he could feel little fires of anger ignite in his chest. He needed to fix this; he needed to do something.
Praying for strength would just have to suffice for now, at least until Sally arrived and they could all start forming a game plan.
Indulging in one more heavy sigh, he hauled himself up the stairs, taking the open bathroom door as a silent invitation, whether Lightning meant for it to be or not.
The kid had the cold water gushing out of the tap and Doc leaned against the doorframe. He played the part of the quiet observer for a moment or two, watching as the kid soaked a washcloth. Without even ringing it out first, he brought it to rest under one of his eyelids, still red and puffy. After patting the area for a long moment, he switched the cloth to his other eye.
"Just trying to get rid of all this red before Sally gets here," was his brief explanation.
Doc pursed his lips. "I think she would be the last person to judge you for crying."
Lightning just gave a tight shrug, hearing the words yet clearly not believing them.
"And I hate to break it to you," Doc said after another silent minute of watching Lightning rewet the washcloth and press it to the skin around his eyes, "but I'm not sure that method actually works."
Another shrug. "It's worked before. Besides..." Lightning flashed a weak smirk and Doc admired his small attempt at levity. "Don't you know that everything you read on the internet is one hundred percent true?"
Doc ignored the sharp pang that reverberated through his chest at the implications of those words. Keeping his expression neutral and his tone light, he asked, "You looked up how to make it look like you weren't crying?"
"Googled it a few months back," came Lightning's nonchalant answer as he ditched the cloth in favor of splashing water on his face.
Careful to keep his steadily rising anger from surfacing, Doc told the kid to take his time. "I need to go grab something out of the garage."
Lightning replied with a distracted Sure as he continued to fiddle with his face, even going so far as to restyle his hair.
It felt to Doc like he couldn't get out of that house fast enough, and the fear that the kid would witness something they'd both regret burned in his chest along with his rage.
"Yeah..." Lightning's shaky yet certain words reverberated through the old driver's head. "If he pushed me off."
Breathing was getting harder with every step he took. Out the door, across the drive, into the garage…
Smokey's voice returned, warning him to keep his temper in check—reminding him of the kind of consequences losing it would surely bring. But Doc had shoved his old crew chief onto the backburner, focusing instead on the kid.
"Doc I… I-I don't know what to d-do."
Nails dug little divots into his palms, reminding him of the bruise blossoming on Lightning's fair skin.
"I'm trapped and I don't know what to do. I don't—"
Kicking an old paint can across the room did nothing to ease the pain building in his chest. It was empty; it didn't do enough damage. It wasn't enough.
"Just leave it alone, Doc. It's better that way."
Better. Doc scoffed. None of this was better.
It was worse. So much worse than he had originally suspected.
"Has it ever happened before?" The following silence that Lightning had given him rang through his mind loud and clear.
Doc snatched up the first thing his hand could find. One of his old Piston Cups. 1953.
How many times had Harv laid a hand on the kid like that?
Tightening his fingers around the smooth metal until he was certain he'd bust a blood vessel, he pulled his arm back…
"He'll ruineverything."
... And flung the trophy at the far wall. He hoped it would shatter. He wanted to hear the sound of metal breaking into a million pieces and be satisfied. Instead, a sharp thud echoed through the garage as the cup hit the wall before clattering to the floor, where it rolled to a stop underneath the Hornet.
As suddenly as it had filled his chest, all the fight sapped out of Doc and he sagged back against the workbench. Burying his face in one hand while wrapping the other around himself, he fought to regulate his breathing. Fought to regain his usual sense of calm.
Calm. Doc huffed. That was a joke. Nothing about the situation made him feel like being calm.
But, for the kid's sake, he would.
Damned if he didn't want to bring back his infamous left hook, though. The kind that had produced more than a few black eyes on his fellow racers after certain drivers would take him out of the race on purpose with an untimely crash.
He vaguely wondered if he'd ever have to get on Lightning for starting a post-race brawl… After all, Smokey had pulled him off a small handful of drivers in the past. And the more he saw of Lightning's personality and drive, the more he realized that the kid was right.
Under the skin, they were the same.
Part of him figured he'd better fish that Piston Cup out from underneath the Hornet, but the other part of him couldn't seem to move from that position. Over the years, vanishing into the darkness of his garage for hours on end had been his specialty, but he knew he couldn't do that now. Not this time.
No, this time, there was a kid in that house who needed him.
Neither of them were alone anymore.
Though it took everything in him just to shuffle across the floor, Doc emerged from the garage—though not before giving a sharp kick to the Hornet's back tire for good measure. Just to make sure he didn't take any of his earlier rage back into the house. Something told him Lightning had seen more than his fair share of unjustified anger.
Yours is justified.
Doc took a steadying breath.
No anger is justified when it makes men act like that. And for a moment, he couldn't tell if he was thinking about Harv or himself.
The house was silent when he entered. A glance up the stairs showed him an empty hall and a darkened bathroom. The kid's room, the kitchen, and the living room all boasted that same emptiness. It wasn't until Doc chanced a glance out the front window that he found Lightning.
He was sitting on the front porch swing beside none other than Mater, who had some sort of small animal huddled against his chest.
Several moments passed as Doc observed the two of them. Mater was doing most of the talking, per the usual, but Lightning appeared to be engaged. At some point, Mater transferred the animal—a Red-Spotted Toad, by the looks of it—to Lightning and the kid examined it with great interest.
As he watched them, he felt the calm beginning to return. Slowly, gradually, but returning nonetheless. Then, Mater said something and Lightning laughed. Not just a passing chuckle, a throw-your-head-back kind of laugh that warmed Doc's heart.
Of all the days for Mater to unearth a random toad… Despite the lingering strain of the day's events, Doc let a small smile slip onto his lips.
As if sensing his presence by some manner of magic, the kid passed the toad back off to Mater and walked over to the window. Doc slid it open and waited expectantly for whatever Lightning had to say.
"Hey, Doc," he began, "hypothetically, would you be mad if we brought this toad inside?"
Doc blinked at the odd, "hypothetical" request.
"Hypothetically," Doc countered, doing his best to keep his rising humor at bay, "what would possess you to bring a toad, of all things, into the house?"
Lightning glanced back at Mater. "He wants to know why we want to bring it inside."
"Shoot, to give it food and water!"
Turning to Doc, Lightning said without missing a beat, "To give it food and water."
It was getting harder to swallow his laughter with every passing second, but somehow, Doc managed.
"Son, it doesn't need food and water. At least, not the kind we have in here."
Once again, Lightning looked over at Mater. "He says it doesn't need food and water."
"That's just 'cause he hasn't seen the hungry look in its little eyes."
"Clearly."
"Boys," Doc cut in, "I'm right here, and this porch isn't big enough to require whatever game of Telephone you're trying to play."
"So, we can bring it in?" Lightning pressed, eyes shining and hopeful. And far too crafty in that moment for Doc's liking.
"Where in that sentence did you hear me say you could bring that thing inside?"
Lightning waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind. Sally's probably going to be here soon, anyway. But hey," he said, glancing once more in Mater's direction, "if you keep that thing around, maybe I can come over later or something and we can look up what it eats."
"Or you could return the poor thing to its proper habitat," Doc suggested.
Mater just shook his head. "Aw, we will soon enough. But in the meantime, I have the perfect crate for this guy… See ya later, McQueen!"
As Lightning waved goodbye, Doc shut the window. Seconds later, the kid joined him in the living room, looking at his empty hands with a raised brow.
"I thought you had to get something in the garage."
Right. "Couldn't find it," was the best excuse Doc could conjure on short notice.
Pacified, Lightning wandered into the kitchen and Doc followed, starting up a pot of coffee as the kid took a seat at the table.
The contract sat right where they'd left it earlier, and from that thin stack of paper radiated a certain kind of stress Doc had only experienced once or twice in his lifetime.
The kind that backed you into a corner until you couldn't breathe.
The kind that made you believe you had nowhere else to go…
True to his word—or, Doc supposed, Google's word—Lightning's face showed no sign of phantom tears. He looked more than just put together. He looked almost perfect. Perfect skin, perfect hair… Even his jacket was situated just right.
The almost part came in the miniscule stress lines that pinched the outside corners of his eyes. It came in his slightly furrowed brows; in his frown as he stared down at the contract.
And in the heavy sigh that filtered through the kitchen. "I guess we should read this thing, shouldn't we?"
Doc poured his coffee, then grabbed a water for the kid and joined him at the table. "Eventually. Once Sally gets here."
"Earlier, you said we were running out of time," Lightning pointed out, his face now a mess of confusion. "Now, you're saying we should wait?"
"Here." Doc passed him the water and Lightning downed half of it in one go. "I've been thinking about what you told me. About everything that's happened, and I think you have more tools in your belt than you might realize."
"What do you mean?"
"Before I explain, I think we'd better go over the sort of things Harv is holding over your head. You said he could ruin everything. How?"
Doc had to give the kid points for keeping his expression neutral, even if the tiny cracks in his mask betrayed him. The quiet but sharp intake of breath, the subtle shifting in his seat.
"Well…" Lightning shrugged. "He holds all the strings, which means he can pull them whenever he wants to."
"What kind of strings?"
"He can fire Mack, for one, and get him blacklisted so no one will hire him again. Then there's the fact that he can hire more lawyers than any of us can even afford right now, and I'm Lightning McQueen, so that's saying something." Hesitation was quickly replaced by mounting anxiety as the kid ticked the points off on his fingers. "He can put my name in the tabloids more than it already has been and that would totally ruin my image. It could also kill my sponsorship with Rust-eze. I don't know which magazines he has in his pocket, but I know he has them. He also says he can ruin you, too, and I have no idea how, but if anyone can pull off something like that, it's him."
"How can you be sure?"
While Doc was trying to make sure they covered all their bases, leaving no stone unturned, the kid looked at him like he'd just uttered the five most stupid words in the world.
"Because I've seen him do it," Lightning stressed.
"Examples, rookie. We're going to need examples and proof if we want to win this thing."
"Fine," Lightning said with a sigh, slumping forward and taking another drink of water. "Okay, so… Remember how he fired my first crew chief?" Doc nodded, already not liking how this was going, yet knowing they both had no choice other than to dive back into the past.
He would have to make it up to Lightning somehow for making him dredge all this up.
"Kyle Moreau. Look at any of the Piston Cup teams today and you won't find him. Look him up anywhere and you won't find him. Why?"
Doc tightened his grip on his coffee mug. "Let me guess: blacklisted?"
"Harv takes his jealous streak very seriously," came the matter of fact answer.
Not for the first time, Doc wondered how the kid had lasted this long under the thumb of that man.
How he's still standing… How he's still smiling is beyond me.
"And then we have the tabloids," Lightning said, moving on with an almost detached air. "Harv's all about publicity. Any kind. Did you know I had an affair with Keira Knightly in March?"
"You're kidding."
"I heard it was hot and heavy, but I wouldn't know for sure… because I wasn't even there. I also had a nervous breakdown in August and inherited my great-grandfather's fortune in June."
"Did you?" Doc couldn't help but ask.
Lightning gave a melodramatic sigh. "Nope, not a dang cent."
"I was talking about the nervous breakdown."
The kid shook his head after giving Doc an Are you kidding me? glare. "No. But I did accidentally fall asleep at a table in an LA cafe. Someone must've gotten pictures…"
The more the kid spoke, the more thankful Doc grew for the two other trophies he had stored in the garage. If it came down to it, he'd have two more outlets for his anger.
You won't let it come to that.
Doc adjusted his grip on the mug, loosening it ever so slightly.
That was a one-time thing.
Throwing old trophies won't do anything to help the kid.
"Everything I've worked for," Lightning said in closing, "he could rip away from me. And he will if I don't sign that contract, so… I'm open to any ideas you got."
All right.
Doc steeled himself for the inevitable fight. He didn't like the idea any more than the kid would. But it might be our best shot.
"Doc?"
All right.
Taking a breath, Doc kept his tone calm, reasonable. "Like I said, you might have more tools in your belt than you think. You know Harv better than I do. How do you think he would react to an assault charge?"
His words took longer than he'd expected to sink in, but when they did, Lightning brushed a hand over his arm in what could only be an unconscious motion.
His response was quiet, almost distant. "I don't think that would go over very well…"
"That just might be the point, son. Right now, you said he holds all the strings. Well, I think our best bet is to show him that he's not as powerful as he thinks he is."
But Lightning was already shaking his head. "I don't… This…" He rested his hand on his bruised arm. "It's not the kind of thing I want a lot of people to know about… Isn't there some other way?"
Though his heart went out to the kid more than he could say, Doc had a feeling it would take something a little more drastic to get Harv off their case than simply letting the contract expire.
"You said that kind of thing has happened before, right?"
He could feel Lightning switching on the defensiveness just as intensely as he could feel the cool air blowing out of the air conditioning vents.
"I never said that."
"You didn't deny it," Doc gently pointed out. "Sometimes, that's the same as admitting a thing out loud."
Instead of openly denying it as Doc was almost certain he wanted to, Lightning changed tactics with a slight, somewhat desperate roll of his eyes.
"Look, if I didn't want Sally to see that I'd been crying, what makes you think I'd want her to see this?"
"Like I told you before, she's not the kind who would judge you for something like that. She has your best interests at heart. We all do."
At this, the kid seemed to deflate. "I know…" He propped his arm on the table and sunk his chin into his palm with a sigh. "I know, I just… It's sort of a hard concept to get used to, I guess."
Yes, Doc was definitely glad that he still had two trophies left to throw at the wall.
"Maybe…" Another sigh snapped Lightning back into business mode and he straightened. "Well, let's just see what Sally comes up with before we do anything drastic."
"All right," Doc agreed with a nod. "I just want you to keep that tucked in your back pocket."
Though Lightning nodded, only time would tell if he was being honest about that answer or simply pacifying the old doctor.
The kid's stretch was overly casual as he pulled himself out of his chair and wandered over to the coffee pot.
"I think I'm gonna need coffee if I want to get through the rest of this day," he said.
Doc couldn't help but glance over at him with a wry smile. "I thought it didn't do anything for you?"
The moment that Lightning glanced back with a grin of his own might have just been the last shared moment of levity they would have for a while, Doc realized, because just as the kid started to pour himself a cup, a knock sounded at the side door.
"That'll be Sally," Doc said, making his way to the door.
The smile on her face when he let her in was somewhat of an enigma. Though edged with hope, there was a subtle darkness shrouding it that cut through Doc's soul.
And her eyes held a knowing look.
"I think I might have found our way out," she began, flipping through some of the papers in her flowery folder. "That's the good news. Maybe I should've prefaced it with the fact that I have good news and bad news."
"All right, then. What's the bad news?" He asked, yet deep down, he found he didn't really want to know. He wanted to have Lightning pour her a cup of coffee while they all sat down around the table and chatted for a few minutes before diving into the heavy stuff.
As Sally took her next breath, Doc resigned himself to the fact that they were doing this now. That it had to be done now.
Sooner than later, I suppose. Like ripping off a bandaid.
"The bad news is…" she said, sucking in another breath, "I don't think either of you will like it." Without waiting for him to reply, Sally found the page she had been looking for and held it out for Doc to see. "Making a few calls led me to dig up that. I think we can scare him off with a potential past assault charge."
Behind him, Doc heard the coffee pot slam down hard onto the counter with a dull, angry thud. The harsh sound was followed by Lightning's weary, biting, "Damn it."
Though muttered under his breath, Sally's brows dipped in concern and Doc knew she had heard it, too. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"Why don't you come on in and have a seat? Lightning'll pour you some coffee."
"Thanks, Doc."
As she sat down, Doc glanced at the kid. There was a visible cloud tension lining his shoulders as he grabbed another mug. And yet, as he turned around to face them, he sported a soft smile, the previous tension fading with every step.
Sliding back into his chair, he passed Sally a mug. "Hey, Sal."
"Hey, Stickers," came her warm reply.
For a long moment, they just gazed at each other, and Doc began to wonder if he'd have to be the one to kick things off.
But then, Lightning gave a small sigh. "Well, team, let's get this over with."