22Tehe guess who has a new procrastination record? I'm genuinely sorry. Life just be crazy sometimes. A few things: 1. There is still a pandemic raging out there, so please be smart and stay healthy 2. Go vote this November
In terms of the story, I changed the timeline sorta. I originally had it so that LMQ would've been 21 at the time of the first movie, but I felt like that was too young. So, in this chapter's flashback, you'll see that I bumped his age up to 24. I have my reasons. Also, I'm taking a gap year right now before going to college, so maybe I'll actually have time to update this again soon (instead of waiting over a year). If you haven't given up on me yet, I appreciate you. Anyways, enjoy! (And of course, all recognizable characters belong to Pixar!)
"Okay, Margaret. You can do this. Don't wimp out now." The maroon Mercedes sat perched outside the doors of the hospital entrance trying to muster up enough courage to go inside. The automatic doors continued to open and close as Margaret repeatedly inched near and away from them. Each vehicle who passed shot her a perplexed glance, unsure of why she might be talking to herself.
"Excuse me, Miss," a cobalt blue Hornet whispered, moving briskly past Margaret and through the automatic doors, snapping her out of her stupor. He didn't seem to notice her odd behavior.
It only took one glance at the Hornet's paintwork for the Mercedes to recognize who the older car was as he passed. Even though she was rarely able to watch Lightning race (due to her husband being around) and had only seen the Hudson Hornet a small number of times, the bold blue car was hard to forget.
She only wished that she could follow the Hornet, knowing damn well that he was going to be with Lightning. Shouldn't it be just as easy for her to go in and visit her son?
One would think.
But it had been years since the Mercedes had considered visiting her only child. She could only imagine how he might respond. Assuming he was able to respond.
At that moment, Margaret's mouth spoke, against her brain's protests. "Uh… excuse me, Mr. Hudson?"
The older car turned to her from inside the doorway with a questioning expression. "Yes?" Despite his obvious urgency, his features were soft. He observed the maroon Mercedes with kind eyes, one eye rim raised.
"I'm Lightning's…"
Just say it, Maggie.
"...biggest fan. L-Lightning's my favorite racer. Big fan of yours too." Margaret bit down on her own tongue, angry at herself.
The Hornet smiled at her. "Well, thank you. It's nice to know that there are still fans out there rooting for us older guys."
Margaret returned the smile. "I hope Lightning's okay," she said, hoping to get an update, but as soon as the Hornet opened his mouth to respond, a female voice spoke up from behind the Mercedes.
"Doc! Thank Chrysler, I've been looking everywhere for you."
Margaret turned to see a familiar Porsche from that morning. Sally.
"Hi, Sally," the Hornet responded as Sally drove up to the pair. He motioned to the Mercedes as he drove back out the main doors, "This is-"
"Oh my gosh, Maggie!" Sally exclaimed, recognizing the car she had met just a few hours prior.
Only then did it dawn on Margaret that Lightning was the boyfriend Sally spoke of.
"Hi, Sally", Margaret responded, smiling warmly. She tried her best to cover up the fact that she was internally panicking. "Long time, no see."
Sally returned the smile before noticing the Hornet's perplexed face. "Oh, Doc, how rude of me. This is Maggie. We met this morning at the hotel."
"Ah. Pleasure to meet you, Maggie."
"The feeling is mutual, Mr. Hudson."
"Please, call me 'Doc'".
"Okay, Doc," Margaret corrected.
Doc smiled politely before turning to Sally, "We really should be going, Sally." He turned towards the doors once more. Sally followed. "Goodbye, Maggie."
"Be confident, Maggie!" Sally chimed in. "Visit your son! I'm sure he misses you as much as you miss him," she called out as she followed Doc.
"Maybe you could show me where his room is," Margaret muttered to herself before sighing heavily. If Sally had spoken truly of Lightning's condition that morning, then he was in much worse shape than Margaret realized. Sally's words bounced around in her mind…
I don't know if he's gonna make it this time.
She shut her eyes tightly, trying to prevent the tears before they could come. Margaret had never felt so alone. She slowly turned away from the hospital entrance: maybe she would find the courage to visit tomorrow.
"Is it just me, or is there something oddly familiar about that Mercedes?" Doc considered.
"It's not just you… I thought the same thing when I first met her. I feel like she and I keep crossing paths, too."
Doc shrugged his tires. "Probably just a coincidence."
"You're probably right," Sally agreed.
"I usually am," the older car quipped, receiving an eye roll in return.
The pair moved through the lobby of the hospital, both knowing how to navigate their way to the ICU without even thinking about it. It was tire memory at this point. They were to be there for Lightning after he got out of surgery. While the race car was still unconscious, and probably wouldn't know if anyone was with him or not, Sally and Doc didn't like the idea of leaving him alone.
Doc felt alone for years after his crash: he didn't want his protege to feel the same way.
After making their way up to the ICU floor, Sally and Doc grew nervous. It was hard to not grow tense as they got closer to Lightning's room; although, Doc often found himself tense in hospitals. He knew too much, he had seen too much, and he couldn't save everyone he treated when he was an ER doctor. It was no place for happiness. Although, he couldn't help but relax a bit when he saw his boy, safe and sound, at the end of the hallway.
Broken, but safe.
A nurse smiled warmly at the pair as she exited the room, recognizing the two cars that most frequented the race car's room.
"He looks a lot better," Sally stated apprehensively, looking her boyfriend over.
"Definitely," Doc agreed. "He no longer looks like a crumpled aluminum can," he chuckled. Sally shot him a glare, evidently not a fan of his insensitive joke. "Oh, come on, Sally. Lightning would've laughed at that," Doc insisted.
"I will never understand you two," Sally chuckled, shaking her hood slightly.
Doc moved on, "Well, he still doesn't look like himself."
While Lightning's body had been smoothed back into its original, curvaceous form, he still sported the drab, grey primer.
Sally moved towards Lightning and lightly brushed his cheek with her tire. "You know, even when he's asleep, Stickers just radiates energy and light."
Doc smiled warmly in agreement, completely aware of what Sally meant.
"It's gone now, though," Sally continued, her voice trailing off. The smile vanished from her face. Doc found her shift in tone unsettling: it was uncharacteristic for the Porsche. She gently pecked Lightning's cheek before excusing herself from the room.
Doc watched Sally with concern as she slowly drove away, her frame almost touching the ground, her features sad. He knew she was down. He knew she was processing. But Sally was full of confidence after Lightning's crash in Los Angeles. She knew he could get through it. She was the one who coached everybody else out of their gloom. But now, she no longer possessed that optimistic attitude. Sally had lost hope.
Doc, on the other hand, was very conflicted, emotionally. As a mentor and friend, he believed his boy could do anything. But as a doctor, he didn't even like to think about it. Cosmetically, Lightning looked a lot better, but Doc knew there was more going on under the hood. He thought it best to not share any of that information with the rest of the townsfolk though. Especially Sally. What they don't know can't hurt them.
The Hornet rolled closer to Lightning to analyze the doctors' handiwork. They really had done a good job. There were no longer bandages covering the race car's windshield, and while that was a relief, Doc wished for nothing more than to see Lightning's bright blue eyes.
He moved to Lightning's side, noticing that new, firm tires had replaced the measly ones that once belonged to his front axle. Although, they weren't Lightyear's. Just standard hospital tires. Doc knew Lightning refused to wear anything besides his official racing tires, or anything Luigi picked for him.
Good news aside, Lightning was still ventilated, his body lacked a rear axle, and worst of all, he was still comatose. Doc knew they were in for a long ride. Again.
A forklift nurse drove into the room to check levels, interrupting Doc's medical analysis.
"Excuse me, nurse?"
"Yes, Mr. Hudson?"
"Please, call me 'Doc'," he requested before continuing, "I was just wondering if there might be a spare blanket you could provide? I think he may be more comfortable covered up."
She raised an eye rim at the Hornet but seemed to understand. "Of course, sir. There should be one in here already." The nurse swiftly moved to the small closet in the room and opened its door to uncover a thick blanket with a set of pillows. She draped the blanket over one side of Lightning while Doc assisted from the other side, leaving only his windshield and hood exposed.
"Thank you, nurse."
She smiled warmly at him before leaving the room.
Doc smoothed out a crease in the blanket, "There, kiddo. That's better, isn't it? Now, you're not so exposed."
An idea then popped into Doc's head. He ventured into the waiting room, where he was not surprised to find Sally sitting by herself. He disregarded her down mood. "I need you to get Ramone, Luigi, and Guido up here. I have an idea."
Sally looked at the older car like he was crazy, but she quickly obliged, seeming to enjoy having a task and seeming to enjoy the kooky smile on Doc's face.
Margaret heaved a heavy sigh of defeat as she leaned against the wall of her hotel room, having just returned from her failed visiting attempt at the hospital.
In an anticlimactic display of anger, the Mercedes slashed a tire at her duffel bag. It simply tipped onto its side and spilled a few of its contents onto the floor.
"Goodness gracious, even that was disappointing," she said out loud to herself. However, there was one item that toppled out of the duffel that caught Margaret's attention.
A worn-out, dull red blanket stared back at the Mercedes. It was once vibrant in color and much larger in size, but the blanket had been through a lot over the years. Its owner had been through a lot as well, and Margaret could understand why he left it behind.
Austin, Texas
1990 - Age 8
"Do you think that maybe next time we could discuss moving as a family? Instead of you just buying a place and dragging us down here with you?"
He ignored her.
"I don't think Monty was too thrilled to leave his school and his friends. Can't say I was too thrilled to leave my people, either-"
"Maybe you should get a real job, and then you can buy your own place and live by yourself!"
Margaret narrowed her eyes at her husband as she pushed a box across the kitchen floor. "Being a mom is a job. I'm the one raising our son. I don't have time for an "actual" job."
"Well, I've always thought it was a mistake having him. Maybe if we hadn't, you could've been working all this time."
"How could you say that about your own son?"
"That waste of space is no son of mine. I don't understand how he can be incapable of so much."
"May I remind you that he's eight years old?"
"When I was his age, I mowed lawns and had a paper route. I provided for my family."
Margaret sighed heavily. "We're off-topic. All I ask is that you consult me when it comes to big decisions, like moving half-way across the country."
"Seeing as how I'm the only one bringing in income, I think it makes sense that I make the decisions."
The Mercedes simply shook her hood in defeat as she emptied another box. A flash of red caught her attention. Her son sat in the doorway, most likely curious about what all the yelling pertained to. His tire clutched a bright red blanket. He constantly carried it around the house, like it was a shield that could protect him from anything.
"What do you want?" Franklin spat, seeming to notice his presence as well.
His voice was in a whisper, "I was just-"
"Wondering why we were yelling at each other? It's usually because of you, you know. If we didn't have to worry about you so much, then your mother and I would be able to focus on our own issues."
The younger car glanced at his mother for help, confused as to why the situation escalated so quickly. But she didn't make eye contact with either of them. She didn't help him.
"So, you're not even going to apologize to us?" Franklin questioned sharply.
Monty wasn't sure how to respond. "I'm sorry, I-"
"Too late now, mister." Franklin lunged at the smaller car and ripped the blanket out of his grasp, tearing it in the process. He set the now mangled blanket on the ground in front of him and stomped on it multiple times with his tire.
Monty watched on in horror, tears filling his eyes. "Please stop!"
Franklin didn't hesitate before striking his son across the face. "Don't you tell me what to do!" Monty was both stunned and horrified. It came out of nowhere. He looked to his mother again… why wasn't she stopping this? She momentarily made eye contact with her son before looking back to the moving boxes. She had tears in her eyes.
"Why are you doing-" Monty's voice cracked before he was struck again.
"When will you learn to just keep quiet?" Franklin asked furiously. "I'm going out for a drink."
The door slammed shut behind him. Both Margaret and Monty were frozen to their spots, unsure of how to carry on.
Franklin returned hours later with gifts for both his wife and son. He apologized profusely. Maybe they would've believed his apologies if he had never acted like that again. But Franklin's aggressive behavior remained the same for years to come.
Margaret glared at the flimsy piece of cloth, angry at how much hurt it symbolized. Yet, it seemed to scream at her to go return it to Lightning. To make things right. It simply reminded her why she came in the first place. Tears began to collect at the corners of her eyes, but she fought it and blinked hard to get rid of them.
A wave of determination washed over Margaret as she snatched up the blanket and decided to go back.
"Let's get shit done."
She left the room at a relentless pace, the door slamming behind her.
Margaret took a deep breath as a nurse guided her to Lightning's room. Although, she believed the nurse had led them to the wrong room when she saw the car inside. It looked nothing like her son. She didn't want to believe it was him, but the surname tag on the door labeled 'McQueen' said otherwise.
Margaret was relieved to see that Sally and Doc were not in the room. That would have been a difficult exchange. She didn't think she could handle seeing her son for the first time and saying "Hey! I should've told you! I'm his mother!"
As soon as the nurse left, Margaret broke down in tears. Lightning looked nothing like his usual vibrant self. She only hoped he was not in any pain.
"I'm so sorry I haven't been here, Peanut," she sobbed as she caressed his cheek gently with a tire. "I can't lose you. Not now."
Margaret had brought the blanket with her. Although, she wasn't sure why she did. It wasn't like Lightning was awake for her to give it to him. She finally decided to just leave it. The Mercedes very gently tucked the battered piece of cloth under Lightning's front right tire. No one would be able to see it unless he moved, and she didn't think that would be for a while. This way, she could buy herself some time before Lightning realized she was there.
It was Doc's recognizable voice coming from the hallway around the corner that urged Margaret to quickly leave. "I love you, Peanut," she whispered as she fled the room, and quickly drove down the opposite hallway. She was glad the floor was just one big loop, allowing her to not have to cross paths with anyone from Radiator Springs.
"Do you always have-a decals for-a McQueen with you?"
"My man, you never know when creative opportunity will strike… Do you always carry around a full set of tires for the guy?" Ramone retorted.
Luigi looked behind him to see Guido carrying a full set of brand new Lightyear's. "Touché."
"Be nice, you two," Doc quipped sarcastically from the front of the pack as they all made their way to Lightning's room. Although, he didn't mind the banter. It gave the illusion of normality.
"What does 'tooth-shey' mean?"
Doc was surprised to hear Mater's voice as they reached the door with the label that read 'McQueen'. The Hornet glanced at Sally, confused. She only shrugged in response with a smile.
"Hello, Mater. I didn't realize you were coming today."
"Well of course I came! I'm Ramone's… uh…" Mater leaned into Ramone's side and whispered, "Wait, what did we call me again?" Ramone whispered the answer-back. "Right! I'm his 'artistic consultant'," the tow truck stated proudly in a posh manner.
Doc looked at Ramone for clarification, but the low-rider could only shrug in response, as well. They all knew Mater just wanted to be included.
"Alright," Doc began. "We just all have to be careful in there, since we have a bigger group. There's lots of stuff to trip on, accidentally unplug, et cetera." While Doc was speaking to all four of them, his gaze was set on Mater. "Got it?"
Mater nodded eagerly in acknowledgment. He was just excited to see his best friend.
Everybody entered the room, extra diligent of how they moved around given the lack of space. Guido helped Doc remove the blanket covering the race car.
"Hey, ese! Lookin' much better my man!" Ramone exclaimed in Lightning's direction as he got positioned on the race car's right side. Guido and Luigi went to Lightning's opposite side.
"Only ma best bud could work that primer!"
"McQueen, how am I supposed to-a put tires on-a your rear axle if you don't-a have an axle?" Luigi jokingly shook his front, getting a chuckle out of everybody. Doc and Sally both admired how everyone spoke to Lightning as if he were awake and able to reply with a retort of his own.
With Mater's assistance, of course, Ramone chose a spot on Lightning's side to place a bright, Rust-eze red, with white trim, '95' sticker. "Okay, man, I think this is the spot."
"Hm, not there, Ramone," Mater insisted like he had been doing body art for years. "An inch to the right."
Ramone obliged. "Here?"
"No, not there either. Go an inch to the left."
Ramone moved the sticker back to the original spot.
"There! That's perfect!"
The low-rider chuckled and rolled his eyes before carefully applying the decal. "Okay, man. Whatever you say."
While Mater and Ramone worked one side, Luigi and Guido carefully replaced Lightning's front left tire. Once the first sticker and tire were on, they switched sides.
After Guido and Luigi got the front right tire off, they paused. Guido pulled the drab, red blanket out from under Lightning's wheel well.
"Cos'è questo?" Guido questioned, holding up the blanket. This got Doc's attention.
"Is-a this supposed to-a be under here?" Luigi clarified, puzzled.
"Well, that's new. I've never seen it before. Have you Sally?"
The Porsche shook her hood. "No. I feel like we would've noticed it, too."
"That means someone else must've been here to see him," Doc concluded. "I'll look into it. Probably not a big thing, though."
Guido and Ramone both shrugged before finishing their tasks. "We're all done," Ramone said, admiring his work. "Looks sharp too."
"Thank you for doing this, you guys," Sally smiled warmly. "He looks a little more like my Stickers, now."
"Hey, happy to do it for our amigo."
"I agree," Luigi chimed in.
"Well, we better all get back to the hotel. Flo will have our hoods if the meal she made is cold by the time we get back."
"Last one there is a rusty oil can!"
"You're already halfway there, man."
"My rust has character, Ramone!" Mater exclaimed before racing out of the room.
"We better go after him before he causes an accident racing through these halls," Doc advised.
"At-a least we are already in a hospital."
