Champion’s Rescue

Home : Stories by Catw00man : Champion’s Rescue

Summary: Three fairies, a dragon and a Prince complete with sword and shield. Will it be enough?

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: R
CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon/Jimmie Johnson, Steve Letarte, Tony Eury Jr, Ron Malec, Chad Knaus, Brad Keselowski, Jeff POV
PROMPT: Taming the Muse #145 (#120 for me) - Imbroglio
COMPLETED: May 5, 2009
WORD COUNT: 5,025
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
DEDICATION: To MystikHeather for her birthday. Can you believe I got it done early? Here’s your fairytale sweetie. I hope it’s what you had in mind.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This takes place late 2009 with everything you know as is through Brad Keselowski’s first win in Talladega on April 26, 2009. And yes, this is a take on Sleeping Beauty. Bouns points if you can catch all the fairytale symbolism.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hendrick Motorsports – October 12, 2009

It’s not right.  It’s just not right.  No matter how many times I see that kid walking around the shop wearing those logos, it still throws me.  Take yesterday in Victory Lane, for just a moment when I saw those familiar colors coming to greet me I thought…it was him.  But it wasn’t.  It was the kid, smiling and walking on air, and I don’t blame him.  None of this has been his fault, and none of us ever dreamed he’d do so well.  But it’s still not right.

Tighten my hands on the railing as I look down over the shop and see him down there, talking to Chad, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.  And for him maybe it is.  He got a chance to get into what’s arguably the best ride in NASCAR and he’s taken advantage of it.  That’s more than anyone in his position could ever ask for.  But still, Keselowski, with three wins this season.  I can hardly believe it.  Just like I can hardly believe the 48 can roll into victory lane without…him.

I don’t have to look at a calendar to know it’s been a hundred days since he’s opened his eyes.  They say there’s still hope and I want to believe it.  I really do.  But I haven’t even been able to see him.  Somehow it seems like every time I try something comes up and I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t think I’d be able to bear it.  I don’t want to see him like that.  I want to remember him the way he was.  The way we were.  But with those two down there acting like everything’s fine….

Close my eyes and grit my teeth because it’s not Brad’s fault.  He’s a good kid who deserved a shot, just not like this.  He’s been completely respectful the whole time, dedicating his wins in Dover and Bristol to Jimmie with the hope he’ll get well soon and come back to racing.  But with each win I know that car, that team, becomes more and more his and I don’t understand it.  I don’t fucking understand it at all.  Fuck, I still can’t believe Chad was even capable of setting up a decent Bristol car, much less that the kid could win there.  It should’ve been Jimmie.  Fucking hell, it should’ve been Jimmie.

Open my eyes and take a slow deep breath as I see they’ve moved out of sight and I don’t have to be reminded of how easily Chad’s stepped in to his new role as Brad’s mentor and coach.  It should’ve been harder for him.  It should’ve hurt him, not propelled him to more wins!  Sometimes I wonder if the bastard even has a fucking heart with how easily he replaced Jimmie.  It’s almost like he wanted this…but that doesn’t make any sense.  Maybe I’m losing my mind.  But if I am, at least I’m not the only one.

Glance down the hallway to the far end and see them talking softly to each other and casting glances my direction.  Part of me wishes I’d never overheard them, but now I have I need to know the rest.  Watch Stevie lean a little closer to Tony Jr., his eyes never wavering from me as he tells him something I know I don’t want to hear.  They know something.  I knew it even before I accidentally walked in on them in the garage, talking about how things weren’t what they seemed.  But to hear it wasn’t an accident….

I tried to get them to tell me what they were talking about in Fontana, but they wouldn’t.  They said it wasn’t the right time, wasn’t the right place.  Then I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind and I did, until I got the text this morning asking me to get here early.  The team meeting isn’t until this afternoon, but Stevie asked me to come in early and I’ve been on edge ever since.  I don’t want to know this.  I know I don’t.  But at the same time, I know I have to.  For him.

Check my watch and I can see it’s almost ten o’clock.  Almost time.  Glance down towards them both again and give them a short nod before turning around and heading for the conference room.  Stevie told me to wait there and I’d find out everything I needed to know.  But do I really need to know this?  Do I really want all the answers?  Each step feels like an eternity and when I reach the door it takes everything inside me to force myself to turn the knob.  I’m scared to know what’s behind this door.  But I don’t have a choice.

Pull the door open and I’m surprised to see there’s no one here, just the long conference table surrounded by empty chairs.  How many meetings have we had here?  It’s too many to even count, but none of them have felt right since he’s been gone.  Take a step inside the room, letting the door close behind me, and of all the meetings it’s the private ones I remember the most. 

It’s been a long time since I first brought him to HMS, but I can still remember those times we stayed here talking late.  I remember covering the varnished table with sugar packets as I explained the draft over and over again.  I remember laying out braking sheets for Martinsville and comparing each and every turn we made in practice.  I remember talking about road courses and how he sucked up each and every word wanting to be the best.  But it’s those other nights that are burned into my memory.  Those nights when we knew the shop was empty and we put a few marks of our own on that polished surface.  Neither one of us are the same as we were then.  But it doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten.

Walk along the length of the table, dragging my fingertips along it as I go, and take a seat near the end.  So much has changed between us over the years but one thing’s always stayed the same.  We’ve always had a connection and that’s what’s eating me up now.  I’ve known from the beginning things weren’t as they seemed, but I wouldn’t let myself believe it.  I couldn’t.  Not and still be able to stay sane.

Jump when I hear the turn of the knob and my eyes widen when I see it’s not Stevie and Eury at the door.  Stare in confusion when I see Malec slip inside then bite my lip and turn away.  He’s not like Chad, and since Jimmie’s wreck in Daytona I’ve hardly been able to face him.  Just to look at him is to see the pain we all feel because it’s written all over his face.  It’s in his sunken eyes and slumped shoulders, like he’s carrying the weight of this on his own, and for the life of me I can’t figure out why.  And I’m afraid I’m about to find out.

He makes his way to the end of the table and pulls up a chair beside me, but still I can’t face him.  I don’t want to be reminded.  I don’t want to deal with this.  Fuck, I wish I could just get back out on the track and--

“It wasn’t an accident, Jeff.”

Close my eyes as the world tilts and spins.  I knew it.  I fucking knew it.  But to hear it.  Swallow hard and force myself to face him.  I have to be sure.  I have to know, and when I open my eyes and meet his…I know.  Hold his gaze a long moment and then in a hard voice I hardly recognize say, “Tell me.”

“I-I didn’t know at first.  I thought it was just faulty equipment I was lucky to catch.  I didn’t know until we got back--”

“Didn’t know what, Ron?”  Reach out to cover his wrist with my hand, giving it a squeeze to force him to meet my eyes again.  “Tell me everything.”

“It was an impound race, Jeff.  You know that.  But I swear I saw him coming from the garage after lock down.  I didn’t think anything about it at first.  I sure as hell didn’t know about the axle.  But the HAANS.  It was cracked.  It was cracked all the way across….”

He tries to look away from me again but I squeeze his wrist tighter as I practically stare straight through him.  He can’t mean what he’s saying.  NASCAR tore what was left of his car apart after it ended up taking half the catch fence down.  We thought Carl’s wreck was bad, but having an axle break in the middle of a three wide pack…it wasn’t pretty.  But he still should’ve been ok.  He should have. 

Shake my head and force myself to focus.  “What are you saying?”

“I didn’t know until we got back and it was gone.  I was going to have it checked out because there’s no way a HAANS should be cracked like that.  I replaced it before the race, but when we got back from Daytona it was gone.”

“Malec, dammit, slow down.  What’re you saying?”  He’s starting to tremble but I hold tight to his wrist, afraid  he might stop if I don’t.  I have to know.

“He took it, Jeff.  He took it so no one would find out.  Fuck.”  He reaches up with his free hand and runs it over his face.  Then he looks at me again and I swear my blood turns to ice.  “If he’d been wearing it he’d be dead.  Jeff.  He was trying to kill him.”

Jerk back as if his touch burns me but it’s not enough.  I can’t get his words out of my head.  No.  No, he wouldn’t do that.  He wouldn’t.  Not Jimmie.  Never Jimmie.  It doesn’t make any sense.  But then I remember the way Malec, Stevie and Eury have been talking.  I remember the looks they give him.  And  I know.  There’s only one reason he could be taking this so well.

“Chad.  You think Chad did this.”  He nods slowly and it fills me with rage.  “Why the HELL haven’t you SAID anything?!?  You really think he could do-do THIS?  Why?  Why Ron?  Why the fuck after all this time?  WHY?  You were Jimmie’s fucking friend!  How could you--what the FUCK is wrong with you?  God dammit, Brad’s in that car--”

“You think I don’t know that!”  His eyes flash but it’s more with pain than anything else.  Still, how could he think this and do nothing?  “Jeff, dammit, if I could prove it don’t you think I would’ve said something?”  He pushes out of his chair and takes a few steps away before suddenly turning back towards me.  “I can’t fix this.  I’ve tried.  That’s why we came to you.  And as for Brad…” he looks towards the door and his voice suddenly gets softer.  “I think Brad’s what he wanted all along.”

“This doesn’t make sense, Ron.”  Shake my head and cover my face.  This can’t be happening.  It can’t.  It doesn’t make any sense.  Jimmie never should’ve been hurt.  Not the way the cars are now.  But then you aren’t supposed to have a tire go through your windshield either.  And now he’s saying his car and his HAANS were sabotaged…that can only mean one thing.

He wanted Jimmie to die.

And I don’t have a clue why.

Run trembling fingers through my hair and I can barely process any of this.  But Stevie and Tony, they wouldn’t have sent Malec to me if they didn’t believe it.  But what can I do?  NASCAR went over every piece of the car and if he’s right, if he’s covered his tracks that well….

“We need your help, Jeff.  We need your help to prove it.”

Snap my head up and the determined look on his face scares me.  He means every word of this.  He believes it and I don’t know what freaks me out more, that someone I know could do this or that he’s putting it on me to make it right.  “How?  What do you want me to do?”

He looks me over for a moment and I guess he sees what he wants because he moves closer and takes the seat next to me again.  “Chad is very, very meticulous about everything he does.”  His voice takes on a steadier tone and I find myself nodding without even realizing it.  “There’s no way he planned this without writing it down.  That’s how he is.  We need you to find it.  We need you to find that clipboard that’s always ‘off limits.’  We have a crew chief meeting in a few minutes and you should have a chance….”

“Hold on.  Wait.  You mean ‘Clippy?’  Malec, he never puts the damn thing down, and if you’ve got a meeting, won’t he have it with him?”

He shakes his head and a feeling of trepidation spreads through me.  “He’ll bring the one we’re allowed to see.  There’s another.  I know there is.  We need you to find it.”

“I’ll do it.”  The words leave my lips before I even think and I don’t have to.  This is for Jimmie, and so help me I’d still do anything for him.  Anything.  No matter what the cost.

“Good.”  He looks down to check his watch and then rubs his hands on his thighs.  “The meeting starts downstairs in a few minutes.  You should be able to get into his office then and Jeff….”

“Yeah?”  My heads already spinning with all the possibilities of what I might find I hardly notice him until he speaks again.

“Be careful.  If he could do this to Jimmie--”

Raise my hand to stop his words cause god knows I don’t need to hear anymore.  “I know.  I’ll find it, Ron.  You go do what you need to do.  I’ll take care of Chad.”

I don’t even look at him as he stands and walks away because I have other things to worry about now.  Why would he do this?  Jimmie was supposed to be like a brother to him.  Why would he try to kill him?  It doesn’t make any sense.  They had everything going for them.  Hell, Jimmie could’ve been Champion again--

Raise my head when I remember the way I saw him talking to Brad earlier.  It wasn’t so much Chad as it was the way Brad looked at him, like he had all the answers.  Chad really has been spending all his time with that boy just like he used to do with Jimmie.  But it’s more than that.  There’s something else, if I could just remember….

“I knew I could win at Bristol.”

Suck in a breath when I remember watching the interview on Victory Lane.  That’s it.  He knew he could win at Bristol.  Not the team.  Not Brad.  Him.  It’s all fucking about him.  I still don’t really understand it but I knew something felt off.  It was the same in Dover.  Brad may’ve won the race…but it was Chad taking the credit.

Jump out of my chair and I can’t wait anymore.  Check my watch and see the meeting has to have already started.  Rush for the door and when I step outside the conference room I look up and down the hall.  Empty.  Now here’s hoping I can get lucky.  Head down the hall and take a right once I reach the short one that houses Chad and Stevie’s offices.  Make a beeline for Chad’s and fuck!  How can it be locked?  Shit, shit how am I supposed to get in--

Freeze when I see Stevie’s door is cracked open and I step across the hall to push it open.  I have no idea what I’m looking for until I see what looks like a note folded over on his desk.  Quickly cross the room and when I see my name scrawled across the paper I know I was right.  Pick up the sheet which turns out to be blank and step back when I see something fall to the floor.  It’s a damn key.  I don’t know how he got it and I don’t care.  Snatch it and something shiny catches my eye.  Reach under the desk and pull out what looks like a letter opener with National Guard printed on the side.  Stevie’s or Eury’s I don’t really care, but something tells me it could come in handy.

Move to my feet and toss the paper with my name in the trash.  Then I head back into the hall and once I see the coast is clear I try the key, and it works perfectly.  Slip into the room and I don’t have a clue where to start.  The whole damn office is covered in papers and folders only Knaus can possibly understand.  Sort through a few piles and I know I’m on the wrong track.  He’d never keep something this important out in the open.  Make my way to his desk that’s completely littered with papers covered in his scrawl.  Everything could be right here in front of me and I’d never know it.  But Malec thinks the notes have to be in another “Clippy” and I’m not seeing one of those here.

Walk around the desk and jerk open the drawers filled with more of the same crap and I feel my heart sink.  I could spend weeks here and not find anything.  How the hell am I ever going to--hold on a minute.  Tug at the bottom right drawer again and it doesn’t budge.  Now why would he lock a drawer…unless he’s got something to hide?  Stand up straight again and start sifting through everything on his desk, looking anywhere and everywhere for a key but obviously he’s not that careless.  Stare at the locked drawer again and then I know what to do.  Pull the heavy letter opener out of my pocket and cram the point into the lock.  Here’s hoping it’s like the movies.

Slam the ball of my hand hard against the base of the letter opener and curse as pain shoots up my arm.  Bu then it melts away when there’s suddenly give under the sharp edge.  Yes!  Yank the drawer hard and it sticks then suddenly jerks open to reveal one thing.

Clippy.

Snatch the heavy, metal clipboard and only then do I realize my hands are shaking.  Everything we need could be right inside and I want to open it now.  But I can’t.  Not here.  I need to get out of here before they get back.  Slip the clipboard under my shirt and pull my jacket closed around it.  Then I quickly make my way out of his office and lock the door behind me.  There’s a back exit at the end of the hall and I take it, practically running down the stairs two at a time.  Rush out the back door and only once I’m halfway across the back parking lot do I look back.

No one’s following me.  No one knows.  Reach my Tahoe and unlock the door.  I should be safe here for a little while.  Climb in and I can’t wait anymore.  Pull the thick, metal clipboard from under my shirt and pry it open.  My heart’s pounding in my chest and the hinges scrape softly and I realize I don’t even know what I’m looking for.  There are notes on set ups, tire pressures, seven post shaker read outs but nothing on Jimmie.  Flip through page after page frantically searching for something, anything and then….

It’s a fucking diagram of the rear end chassis assembly with modifications…that could very easily cause an axle to break.  My blood runs cold when I flip through the pages and find a sketch of a HAANS device with a hairline crack running the width of it.  There are notes on forgeries to checklists in the shop and I realize he didn’t just modify the car at the track.  He built this car to break from the ground up…and covered his tracks the entire way.  The axle was only part of it.  There were weaknesses in the roll cage and the windshield brace but all so carefully designed to look like part failure, especially after a horrific wreck.  Jimmie never stood a chance.  This car was made to kill and if Malec hadn’t seen the HAANS device--

Glass shatters around me and I freeze, stunned.  Try to brush it off, but then something hard and cylindrical is coming through the side window aimed at my head.  Lunge to the side, over the center console, and barely dodge the blow.  Where the fuck are my keys?  I need to get out of here!  

“YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO INTERFERE!!!”

Reach in my pocket and fumble for my keys, but they aren’t there.  Shit.  Must’ve fallen out.  Turn to crawl over to the passenger seat when the side door opens and I finally catch a glimpse of him.  His eyes are blazing, smoke from a cigarette billowing from his mouth and I know he’s not here to talk.  He reaches for me and I kick both legs out to hit him in the chest but it hardly slows him down.  Grab the wheel to keep him from pulling me out but he doesn’t.  Instead I hear the hiss-click of something striking but it’s not until he lunges at me again with the butane torch full on that I realize what was in his hand.

“You think you can stop ME?!?”

My eyes go wide at the unwavering blue flame directed right at my face.  Reach out behind me, my hand scrambling for anything to ward him off and I feel the metal edge of his precious “Clippy.”  Snatch the clipboard and bring it between us, using it as a shield to deflect the flame, but still he bears down on me.  He forces me backward and I can hear the hissing of the torch as he tries to burn my fingers and I know what he wants.  He wants to destroy the evidence and then destroy me.

Hold tight to the clipboard with both hands and shove it forward, slamming it right into his face with a sickening crunch.  He drops his arm with the torch slightly and I take the chance to slam the board against his head again.  “You son of a bitch!  How dare you hurt him!”

I hear the torch hit the ground and go out as he staggers backwards and I toss the clipboard into the passenger seat.  Look out to see him slumping down to his knees, blood trickling down from his temple and I slip out of the truck.  “Why Chad?  Why?!?  Why would you do it?”  I know I should be trying to get out of here.  Hell, he just attacked me with a fucking torch.  But I have to know.  I have to know how he could actually try to hurt him.

His head jerks up and I freeze at the look of complete malice on his face.  That’s when I realize he didn’t go to the ground from pain.  He was going for his other weapon.  He springs to his feet faster than I expect and swings a large wrench at my head.  I move towards the back of the truck but he still connects a glancing blow to my side that sends pain radiating through my lower back. 

“Don’t you get it, Jeff?  I’m the Champion.  Not him.  I’m the one who built all those cars.”  He’s got me pinned against the side of the truck and when he swings the heavy wrench again I drop to my knees to avoid it.  Glass from the passenger window falls around me and I inch towards the open driver side door.  “He forgot that.  He forgot I didn’t need him.  It was time to start over and he had to GO!”

One look in his wild eyes and I see how he wants this to end.  He’s got me cornered.  I can hardly stand with the pain in my back and he knows it.  Reach behind me into the truck again, desperately searching for anything to stop him.  Try to grab the clipboard, but it’s too far away.  He raises the wrench and smiles, and I know I’ll be seeing that look in my nightmares.  It I ever have the chance to have any.

“Now it’s time for you to go meet him.”  He swings the wrench right as my hand brushes over the letter opener on the floorboard.  Fist my hand around it and thrust forward with all my might, bracing for the blow…that never comes.

The wrench clatters to the ground and I don’t know what happened until I feel warmth on my hand and he staggers back.  He’s holding his stomach and only them do I see the handle of the blade jutting out from his side.  Watch him fall to his knees and I’m vaguely aware of the sounds of footsteps, but I don’t care.

“You are nothing.  Nothing.  You hear me?  You’re nothing compared to him!” 

Cold laughter is the only response I get and all I can do is stare at the blood pooling on the ground  until I’m suddenly being shaken by a giant.  “Jeff, oh my God, are you ok?  There’s blood, Tony.  Holy fuck.  Call an ambulance.  Jeff, talk to me buddy, are you ok?”

“Stevie?”  It takes a moment for my eyes to focus and I see Tony bending down over the cackling demon and Malec on his cell.  “I’m ok, Stevie.  I-I got it.”  Pull away from him and turn to the truck.  Numbly reach inside and shove the clipboard and papers at him.  “It’s there.  Now I need to go.”

“Jeff, buddy, you’re in shock.  You need to wait for the ambulance.  Where do you think you’re going?”

“Jimmie.  I need to see Jimmie.”  Pull away from him and climb into the truck, ignoring the protest from my lower back.  Find the keys in the seat and use the wheel to pull myself into it.

“Jimmie’s not going anywhere, Jeff.  We need to get you checked out.  We need to--”

“I’ll be at the hospital, Stevie.  I have to see him.  I have to see him now.”  Start the engine and block all the rest out.  They can deal with it.  I’ve already slayed the dragon.  Now I need to see him.  I have to.

The drive to the hospital is nothing but a blur as is the walk to his room.  I’ve known where he was all this time, I just couldn’t get here and now I know why.  One way or another Chad always prevented me.  He was always in the way.  But not anymore.  Now I’ll find him.  Now I’ll let him know everything’s ok and maybe, just maybe, he’ll come back to me.

Reach his door and open it without knocking.  Nothing is keeping me from him now.  Walk inside and freeze after only a few steps because…I didn’t expect this.  This isn’t the Jimmie that took the green at Daytona back in July.  This isn’t the Champion who dominated the series. 

Take a slow step forward and imagine those beautiful amber eyes opening to see me, imagine that sweet smile of his that used to offer so much promise so many years ago.  Someone’s taken care to shave him and it makes him look so damn young.  I don’t know who, but they’ve even smoothed back his hair.  I expected tubes and wires, not this.  This is my Jimmieboy and he looks like he’s only asleep. 

Move to the side of his bed and slowly reach down to take his hand in mine.  How long has it been since I’ve done this?  How long since I’ve been able to look at him like this?  I used to watch him sleep when we were together and so many times he looked just like this.  Run my thumb over the back of his warm hand and I can’t help myself.  I never could.

Lean down slowly, my lips just a breath away and take in the scent of him that’s somehow still the same after all this time.  One hundred days, one hundred years, it makes no difference.  He’s still Jimmie and some small piece of him will always be mine.  Lean a little closer and press my lips to his, feather light soft at first and then a little firmer, savoring the softness of his mouth.  I always did love kissing him.  I couldn’t resist him.  Brush my lips across his and melt against him when I feel his tender lips move against mine.

Wait.  What?

Pull back in shock at what I thought I just felt and then it feels like my heart stops because there looking up at me are the most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever known.  “J-Jimmieboy?”

“J-eff?”  His voice is rough and ragged but there’s no mistaking the squeeze of my hand.  He’s awake.  Oh, God, he’s awake. 

“Yeah, Jimmie.  It’s me.”  Move closer to his side again and reach up to brush back his soft hair.  “I’m here and everything’s gonna be ok.”

“J-eff…” he swallows and I can’t imagine what he’s thinking.  Does he remember the wreck?  Could he know what really happened?  Is he still Jimmie?  There are so many questions but they all fly out of my head at his words.  “Kiss me again?”

I know I probably shouldn’t.  But I don’t care.  He’s back and I can’t deny him.  Lean forward to brush my lips across his again and I swear it’s the sweetest, most perfect kiss I’ve ever head.  Everything’s going to be ok now.  My Jimmieboy’s awake and that’s all that matters.

These authors spend lots of time to write these stories. If you took the time to read this PLEASE take the time to give them some feedback. Happy writers write more ;-)

Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com