Chapter Text
Inhale.
The phone clicked off as the stranger on the other end hung up.
Exhale.
His phone screen went dark.
Inhale.
He took a step towards the door.
Exhale.
He reached for the door handle.
Inhale.
His hand grasped the door handle of his motorhome bedroom.
Exhale.
His ears rang with echoes of the phone call.
Inhale.
Jacksonville Sheriff's Office flashed on his screen as the caller ID.
Exhale.
This wasn't the first time he'd received a call from them over the years.
Inhale.
He didn't know it would be the last.
Exhale.
"Is this Montgomery McQueen?"
Inhale.
The use of his real name always jarred him.
Exhale.
When was the last time someone addressed him by his full name?
Inhale.
Him.
Exhale.
"Yes?" He asked hesitantly.
"My name is Deputy West, and I'm calling on behalf of the Jacksonville Sheriff's Office...I regret to inform you that your father, Michael McQueen, died while driving under the influence of alcohol tonight at 10:48pm in Jacksonville, Florida."
Inhale.
There were more words said. Questions asked. He answered, but he didn't even know what he had said. It was like his mouth was moving on its own accord. He was on autopilot.
Exhale.
His hand gripped the doorknob harder.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
The room was getting hotter.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Inhale.
Inhale.
Now he couldn't freakin' breathe.
He kept his death grip on the doorknob as he dropped to an unstable knee. He leaned his forehead forward against the door, and his other hand came up and grabbed his throat.
Maybe to make sure that it was still there because it definitely wasn't working right if it was.
Inhale.
Inhale.
Inhale.
If he exhaled and completed the motion of a full breath, then he wasn't sure what would happen. If time would move on from that moment. If his dad would still be dead. If he'd start to feel. What he'd feel.
He didn't know. He didn't know what he should feel.
Instead, he was caught in an in-between moment of not feeling and not breathing, and the whole world was standing still.
His grip on the doorknob faltered, and he crumpled to the floor.
"Did he kill anyone?" His own voice repeated in his head.
"The family's 8-year-old daughter is in critical condition at this time. The mother and son are being treated for minor injuries."
"Send-" His voice caught as the autopilot switched off for half a second.
"Have them send me the medical bills. All of them. I'll-"
Inhale.
Exhale.
"I'll pay for them all."
It wasn't enough. If that girl died, Monty wasn't sure he'd ever forgive himself.
When was the last time he had thought of himself as Monty?
Monty was the kid who grew up in the system.
Monty was the kid who had blurred memories of blood-stained carpets that never seemed to fully dry in the Jacksonville humidity.
Monty was the kid who couldn't stand the smell of beer to this day.
Monty was the kid whose mother was buried 6 feet under in the Florida dirt.
Monty was the kid who finally had a teacher notice one too many black eyes.
Monty was the kid whose dad just died.
Inhale.
Inhale.
Inhale.
The least I can do is make sure he's not buried anywhere near her. He thought fleetingly. It was the last sort of peace he could offer his mom. He wouldn't let her lie next to that monster.
Breathing in hard pulls, curled up on the carpet floor, took him back to that house. That house where he grew up. That house where she died. That house where he would have died.
Before cars.
Before racing.
Before he became Lightning McQueen.
He was still connected to the man in last name. The man who showed him true pain at 8 years old.
The man who died and tried to take someone else's kid with him.
And Monty McQueen couldn't freaking breathe.
"Hey, Rookie," Doc called through the closed door with a knock. "You almost ready? We'll be late meeting the others for dinner."
Inhale.
Inhale.
Inhale.
"Don't tell me you're pouting about coming in second to Cal," Doc said gruffly, albeit teasingly.
Inhale.
Inhale.
In- He choked on air as a sob ripped its way out of his throat. Twin trails of tears ran sideways down his face into the carpet.
Tears that the man didn't deserve. Monty shouldn't cry for a man who didn't deserve his tears. He wasn't even sure why he was crying. Was it because there was no chance for the man to turn into who he should have been? Because of the relief that he didn't have to deal with him anymore? Because this would be the last call that caused his stomach to sink to his feet and his heart rate to increase, because what had his dad done this time?
Whatever the reason, his father was dead. And he was sobbing on the floor, unable to breathe. Just like when he was a kid-
Light blinded him as the door opened into his dark bedroom.
He heard Doc's sharp intake of breath in surprise as he quickly kneeled next to Lightning.
"Talk to me, kid. What's wrong?" He said smoothly, his "doctor voice" coming out.
Doc was answered with nothing but another sob and gasping breath from Lightning as he turned his face further into the carpet.
"Hey, kiddo. It's alright. Here, let's get you up on the bed. I need you to breathe with me."
Doc helped him struggle to his feet and sit on the edge of the bed while he tried to diagnose the problem. He had seen the kid upset. Scared. Frustrated. Anxious. Angry. Hurt. But he had only seen him look this...distraught, once. A year ago.
"C'mon, kid. Head between your knees. It'll help your body sort itself out," Doc said, helping Lightning to guide his head down.
The kid's chest was still heaving, and tears still soaked into the carpet between his feet.
"C'mon, Rookie," Doc said, rubbing circles on the kid's back in an attempt to ground him. "I need you to breathe with me, alright?"
Another visceral sob ripped its way out of Lightning's throat. With a despair running so deep that Doc was starting to worry that someone had died.
"Alright, Lightning. You're alright. Just breathe," Doc said. "Breathe with me." Doc continued to rub circles on his back and took a deep, exaggerated breath. "In."
He let the breath out slowly, "And out. C'mon, Rookie. You can do it."
He felt Lightning's back spasm under his hand. He tried. His next breath came out in a shudder, but not a sob.
"In...and out."
A few times, Lightning's breath would hitch, or a sob would escape him, and Doc would guide his breathing back. They stayed like that until Lightning's sobs had softened into hiccuped breaths and occasional shivers.
Doc's mind was racing. He was really starting to think someone had died. Or something equally horrible and devastating had happened. If it had been one of the RS crew, Doc would have heard himself. He wondered if something had happened to Mack, but he was supposed to be at dinner with the others. He'd just seen both Bobby and Cal at the race and the interviews. They were probably still in their own trailers, safe.
Somewhere in Doc's gut, he thought he knew, though. Something had happened, and he almost knew what it was. The only other time he'd seen Lightning like this was last year, when a man who never should have been able to set foot near him again was screaming in his face and shoving him to the ground. Doc remembered holding him as he sobbed behind the stacks of tires.
That was the only man Doc had met who could so thoroughly rattle the ever-confident Lightning McQueen.
But Doc prayed that he was jumping to conclusions. That this wasn't related to that horrible, horrible man. But somehow, as Lightning's back stuttered with each breath beneath his palm, he knew.
The tears hadn't stopped, but Lightning's breaths sounded more like actual breathing and less like someone choking on glass now. Doc's hand didn't stop its slow circles over Lightning's back.
"Lightning," Doc said quietly. The kid didn't move, though. His head was still between his knees, one hand gripping the mattress, and the other gripping his knee. He didn't acknowledge Doc.
This time, Doc's hand did stop, but his voice softened. "Monty."
Lightning flinched, sucking in ragged breath. "What happened?" Doc asked.
The words tumbled out of Lightning's mouth like a sob. "He's dead." Even though Doc had braced for those words, they still hit him like a ton of bricks. They still stole his breath. He still mentally went through the tabs on where everyone should be. Everyone should be safe and fine. He would have heard if it were otherwise. Mater, Bobby, Cal, Mack. They were all safe. They were fine. He probably meant...
Doc still asked. Even though deep down, he knew. "Who, Rookie?"
Lightning's next words did come out as a sob. "My dad."
Relief, shame, and heartbreak hit Doc in the stomach all at once. He was thankful it wasn't one of their own. The guilt at that thought slammed into him like a freight train, but he still meant it. And his heart broke for the kid beside him.
Lightning's next breath shook, and he choked on his words, burying his face in his hands. "I never thought I'd outlive him. I always thought he'd kill me long before he was in the ground." The words were like a knife to Doc's heart. "He was driving drunk. Hit a family's car. They're all in the hospital, and the little girl might die." Another sob clawed its way out of his throat.
Doc pulled him sideways into a hug, as Lightning shuddered and cried. "I don't even know why I'm crying," he said in a laugh that sounded wrong. "He was awful. I used to wish he'd die sometimes. I just didn't think it'd ever actually happen. I..." His breath hitched, and Doc's grip on him tightened. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he whispered.
Doc's heart ached hearing the words. He wished he could protect him from all the pain. His thoughts went back half a century, thinking back on his own parents' deaths. They'd been sick for awhile. Hud had been a young teenager back then and was already working full-time. He'd known it was coming. He wasn't particularly close to his parents. Smokey had been more of a parent to him than they ever were. It hadn't hurt as much as whatever Lightning was feeling now. Especially considering who his dad was, Doc didn't know what the kid was feeling. He didn't even think Lightning knew what he was thinking.
Doc's hand cupped the back of Lightning's head. "Nothing's wrong with you, kid," Doc said fiercely, tightening his grip. "There's no right or wrong way to feel about it."
"I told them I'd pay," Lightning whispered hoarsely, "For the medical bills. He shouldn't...he can't keep taking from people," Lightning choked. Doc didn't respond. He just held him until his breaths were deep, and his tears had dried up.
"Ok, Rookie. Get changed. I'll let them know we won't be at dinner." Lightning nodded silently, reluctantly pulling away as he wiped his face on his sleeve. Doc gave his shoulder one last squeeze before standing and slipping out of the room.
Doc sighed as he shut the door behind him. He walked a few steps further to the motor home's small kitchen before dialing Sally. It rang twice before she picked up.
"Hey, Doc-"
"Shoot, is that Doc? Ask him if he and Lightnin' are on the way. I'm starving!" Mater's voice cut through in the background, with a light and joking tone.
"Hear that, Doc?" Sally teased. "Tell Stickers to finish doing his hair and hurry up!" She laughed.
Doc's throat tightened. He cleared it before he spoke, "We're not going to be coming to dinner, Sally."
There was a pause. "What? What happened? Is everything ok?"
"Shoot! What happened?" Mater's voice echoed.
"Everyone is fine," Doc started with. "But Lightning got a phone call about his dad." There was silence on the other end of the phone. "His dad died today." He heard Sally inhale sharply and Mater's soft "Oh no."
"He was drinkin' and drivin' and he hit a family's car. They're all in the hospital for injuries right now. His dad didn't make it."
"We can be there in 20 minutes," Sally said firmly, even as her voice shook. "How is he taking it?"
"Not...not well," Doc said, running a hand down his face.
"We'll be there soon, ok?"
"Thanks, Sally." Doc sighed, flipping his phone shut.
He went back to Lightning's bedroom, opening the door. Lightning was curled up on the bed, on top of the covers, face half buried in his pillow. His clothes from earlier were discarded on the floor.
"Hey, kid," Doc said, easing down to sit on the edge of the bed beside him. He could tell he was awake, but Lightning kept his eyes shut. Doc put a hand on his shoulder. "Mater and Sally will be here soon, alright?"
The silence stretched for a few seconds before Lightning finally whispered, "ok."
They didn't say anything after that. Doc just stayed, sitting on the edge of the bed, slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth over Lightning's shoulder. Eventually, Lightning's breaths became deep and slow. He was asleep. But Doc didn't move until he heard knocking at the door of the motor home.
He quietly got up, leaving the bedroom door open a crack as he made his way to the trailer door.
He opened the door and saw Sally, her brow creased as she stepped in, followed by Mater.
"How is he?" Sally asked, immediately setting her purse down and turning to Doc.
"He's sleepin'," Doc answered, gesturing towards the bedroom.
Sally wasted no time making her way over to the bedroom and slipping in the door. She paused in the doorway, just looking at him. He was in an old Rustez t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He was curled up on his side, one hand loosely gripping the pillow, and his brow furrowed. He looked tense even in his sleep.
She kicked her shoes off and gently eased herself onto the bed beside him. She waited, making sure he didn't wake before fully laying down, curled up beside him. She brushed a stray curl out of his eyes before wrapping her arm around him to loosely drape over his chest. She just looked at him for a moment as his chest steadily rose and fell. She leaned in close, pressing a kiss to his temple. "I love you, Monty. We'll figure this out."
He didn't wake, but his grip on the pillow loosened a fraction. She stayed there, curled beside him, holding him close until morning.