Nothing Matters

Home : Stories by Catw00man : Nothing Matters

Summary: Jimmie is in trouble…boss isn’t happy. Mirror image to srettaM gnihtoN.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon/Jimmie Johnson, Jimmie POV
CATEGORY: Romance/Angst
COMPLETED: July 12, 2004
WORD COUNT: 3,038
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. ;-)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic is actually inspired by a picture from Daytona victory lane on July 3, 2003. What can I say, Jimmie DEMANDED I write this one. You can find the pic above.
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After the Pepsi 400 at Daytona: July 3, 2004

He’s mad. He’s really, really mad. And he’s mad at me. Mad at what I almost did. At how I almost couldn’t help myself. Doesn’t he know what he does to me? I glance back over my shoulder at the rapidly disappearing victory lane and wish I didn’t remember the shocked and angry way he looked at me. Not that anyone else would notice. He’s really good at that, hiding all of his emotions, except from his eyes. I can always tell what he’s thinking by looking in his eyes. And now he’s really, really mad.

He’s walking very fast and I have to hurry to keep up with him. This is his repressed anger stride that you usually only see after a really bad race…and tonight it’s all because of me. I can see the tension radiating off of him as he walks, and I can’t help but curse my stupidity. I know the rules, I know the game, just what the hell got in to me tonight?

I sigh as I know the answer to that one. The same thing that always gets into me… Him. I’m so weak when it comes to him. He just looked so happy, and when he had his arm around me and pulled me so close…all I could do was look at that smile…and those lips…. And, crap, this is just what got us into this mess.

I look around to distract myself as we make it to the motor coach area and see him wave to Harvick and Biffle. It seems he’s always got time for everyone. I nod their direction and I vaguely hear them say something in congratulation. I don’t know how he always has time for everyone else when I’m falling apart. It’s so easy for him to play the part.

I finally see his motor coach up ahead and a sudden dread fills me. What if he doesn’t want me to come inside? What if he’s too worried about how things might look? I stop at the steps leading into his coachman as he climbs up and opens the door. I hold my breath as he steps inside. I don’t realize my eyes were closed until I hear him say, “So are you going to stand outside all night?”

I look up to see the hint of a smile on his lips as he says this, and I feel myself finally let out the breath I was holding in. “He’s not turning me away, he’s not turning me away,” I think to myself as I climb inside the motor home which feels like my second home. Sometimes I wonder why I even have my own coach at all with all the time I spend here. Not like I would want to be anywhere else. I just wish--

“What the HELL were you THINKING Jimmie?!?”

My head jerks up, and I realize he’s not waiting for an answer as he begins pacing back and forth across the living area. He only does this when he’s really upset about something and is trying to get a handle on it. I see him run his fingers through his hair, and just can’t help what it does to me. He’s just so hot when he’s this frustrated….

“Good God Jimmie, could you stop looking at me like that? That’s what got us into this mess in the first place.”

I watch as he begins his pacing again, this time not bothering to cast a glance in my direction. I’ve never seen him this stressed out. I should have been thinking. I shouldn’t have forgotten where we were. Why can’t we be like other people? Why do we have to hide?

He’s still talking to himself as he walks back and forth in the too small space. “…see all the reporters…and the cameras… so many pictures…if just one person figured it out…if just one person knew about this…this…thing between us…” As he motions between the two of us with one hand I feel shock set over me. Is that what we are? All we are?

He’s still too lost in his own thoughts to see me turn away. I can’t look at him right now. I can’t let him see the pain I know must be reflected in my eyes. I knew he was very private about his personal life. I’ve always known that. But, I don’t know what to think about this.

I know he cares about me. Hell, I know he loves me. But, at times like this… no there’s never been a time like this. I’ve never done anything this stupid before. I should say something to him. I should tell him I’m sorry and beg his forgiveness. But, my mouth is dry as cotton and the words just won’t come.

I blink my eyes rapidly, when did they get all wet. Why does it feel like my heart is in my throat? I can’t let him see me like this. I shouldn’t be so weak. I think he’s stopped his pacing and I can feel his eyes on me. I try one more time to blink back my tears before I turn to him, and I know in an instant I failed when his eyes meet mine.

Those beautiful blue eyes have gone from frustration to widening in horror. He sucks in a breath and for the first time tonight seems to be at a loss for words. “Jimmie…I…” he stammers and then shakes his head. “I’m sorry…I…I’ll be right back.”

He turns away from me and all but sprints to the kitchen. For the first time I can remember I’m really not sure what he’s thinking. Is it because I’m way too emotional? Is there something he’s not telling me? I really need to get off this way of thinking before I really drive myself nuts.

I turn to the dark window and use my fingers to separate the blinds and look outside. Everything is starting to calm down now. Haulers are leaving and fans are heading home. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be one of them again. To sit in traffic, drive home and stay there. To not have people watching your every move. To just to back to being normal.

I can’t help but sigh. Normal, what a concept. I’m in love with someone who can never be normal. He just shines too brightly. How could I ever even think of taking him away from all that. I just have to be more careful. I just have to learn to control my emotions better. I just have to--

**CRASH**

“What the hell was that?” I say as I run into the kitchen. I stop short when I see him standing in front of the ruined cabinet by the refrigerator looking at his bleeding hand.

“Oh Jeff,” I whisper as I make my way over to him. He’s holding his bloody hand by the wrist and I can see that it’s shaking. He seems to be watching the crimson liquid as it slips off his hand and on to the counter. I gently touch his shoulder and lead him over to the sink. His eyes haven’t left his bleeding hand as I start cool water running in the sink. I’m not sure how bad it is yet because there’s just too much blood.

All I can think as I take his hand and move it to the water is, “Why?” He jumps just a little as I get his hand under the water, and for the first time he looks up at me. I meet his eyes and see that if anything he looks scared. Wasn’t I just thinking earlier how I could always read him? Now I really don’t have a clue.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he looks down at the crimson water swirl as it washes down the drain. I tell him not to worry about it as I am finally able to examine his trembling hand. It doesn’t seem to be broken, thank goodness, just really cut up. He really busted open that cabinet and there is glass and splinters embedded in his hand, but there only seems to be one fairly deep cut with a large piece of glass wedged in it.

I pick up a kitchen towel and carefully wrap his hand and sit him down on one of the chairs. I can’t help but think he looks so lost as he looks up at me. “I’m so sorry Jimmie,” he says, and this time I realize he’s not talking about the mess.

I kneel down in front of him and catch his eyes in my gaze. “It’s ok,” I tell him. He starts to shake his head and put my hand on him knee and I tell him again a little more forcefully, “It’s ok, Jeff.” He seems to realize that I’m not talking about his hand because he gives me a small nod as I get up and walk to the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

When I make my way back to the kitchen he’s back over by the shattered cabinet wiping at blood and spilled Pepsi I didn’t notice earlier. I touch his arm and he turns back to me and lets me lead him back to the chair so I can finish cleaning up his hand. I grab a clean towel and lay it on his lap as I unwrap the now bloody towel from his hand. I gently ease his hand on to the clean towel and open up the first aid kit on the floor beside me.

“This is probably going to hurt a bit, but I’ve got to get all the glass and wood out, I tell him. He nods and I pick up a pair of tweezers from the kit and survey the situation. Everything is pretty superficial except the one chunk of glass I spotted earlier. I pick all the small bits from his hand as carefully as I can leaving the largest piece for last. He only winces a few times as I do all this, but he knows I saved the worst for last.

I look up at him and see he’s gritting his teeth. He nods at me and grips the edge of his chair with his free hand. It takes less than a minute to get out the half inch piece of glass from the back of his hand, but I can see his other hand gripping the chair is trembling. His hand starts bleeding freely again and I wrap it back up in the towel and turn back to the kit to find the supplies to wrap up his hand.

“You didn’t have to do this you know,” I tell him as I pick up some alcohol to clean out his wounds. “You already had my attention,” I add teasingly.

I hear him laugh softly as I dab some alcohol onto some gauze. “You know me…always have to be the center of attention,” he replies with a hint of his sarcastic smirk. Good I think, if he can still kid with me, everything’s going to be all right.

I carefully unwrap his hand again and am pleased to see it’s barely still bleeding. I gently clean off the blood and clean out the cuts with the gauze, then wrap it up.

As I finish I look up to see him surveying the rest of the kitchen. The cabinet is a total mess, and there is glass and splinters all over the counter and floor. The side of the lower cabinets and the counter are covered in drying blood and cola, and I can see the swirls were he tried to clean it up. Over all it was a total mess.

“Hell of a time to fire the maid, huh?”

I can’t help but laugh as I see his sarcastic smile has returned, if a little strained from pain. I grab a bottle of pain medication from the kit and get up to get a glass by the sink. I can’t resist turning to him and saying, “So, is water ok, or do you want to get mad at another Pepsi?”

I get a real laugh that time as he replies, “Waters fine, Jimmie.”

I get that same old tingle inside as I hear him laugh and I fill a glass of water for him. I bring it over to the table and sit it down, then shake out a few pain pills that as a driver you always have to keep around. I put the pills in his unbandaged hand and watch as he tosses them back and takes a long drink of water.

“So, you want to tell me what all this is about?” I ask.

I watch as he gets up and walks back over to the mess looking for a towel. “I really should try and clean this up. It’s only going to get worse you know.”

Oh, no he doesn’t. I’m not letting him get away with changing the subject on me now. Something’s not right and it all started when he saw tears in my eyes. What if that’s it? What if it’s me? What if seeing me that emotional was just too much for him to handle? What if he’s so upset because he doesn’t…. Ok I can’t even bear to finish that thought.

But, he’s not even looking at me, just making more of a mess. That’s when I hear those words in my head again. This “thing” we have. Is that why he’s mad? That I’m making too much of us?

I want to be mad, and yell and scream. But, that same paralysis is coming over me again. Just the very thought of losing him….

I just can’t look at him anymore. I can already feel the tears coming back. My throat is so tight a can barely breathe. What is wrong with me? How can he reduce me to tears twice in one night? When did he become my life? I just need to--

“Jimmie…Jimmie look at me.”

I shake my head and look away, there’s no way I can speak. I can feel him turning and coming closer.

“Jimmie, please.”

Fine I guess I just need to get this over with, regardless of the outcome. I slowly turn back toward him, but I still can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. Because then I will know. Then I know I will really see what is in his eyes.

“Jimmieboy, please look at me….”

Did I hear a tremor in his voice? No more stalling. I blink my eyes to try and clear the tears I know are waiting to fall and look up at him. Maybe I’m losing it, because I swear his eyes are shining too.

“Oh God, Jimmie…I….”

He comes toward me all of a sudden, dropping the towel in his uninjured hand. He comes straight up to me and grabs me by the back of the neck and pulls me into a desperate kiss.

We pour everything into that kiss…passion, frustration, desire, and pain. He’s holding me as tight as he can with his bandaged hand, and I know I’m clinging to him. Finally he breaks away from the kiss and pulls my head down onto his shoulder. This is truly the most comfortable place in the world for me to be, in his arms with him stroking the back of my hair.

“Jimmieboy I never meant to hurt you,” I hear him say low in my ear. “You know how I get… I just want to take you, and keep you just to myself so no one else can get to us.” He pulls back and touches his forehead to mine. “You’re everything to me Jimmieboy,” he says looking straight at me, and I can read the truth shining in his beautiful cerulean eyes.

“You are my life. All of this, the fame, the money, the racing can all go away as long as I have you. I just can’t stand the thought of anything making things hard for us…making things hard for you. I just want to protect you Jimmieboy.”

I feel him caressing the back of my neck again and I gaze even deeper into his eyes. All I see there is love, for me. It’s like I can see into his soul when he opens up to me like this. I’ve never felt so connected to him until this moment.

“You are my heart and my soul…my very being is tied to yours…I swear my soul is connected to yours…” he all but whispers to me as he pulls me in for another kiss. There is no anguish or sadness in this kiss. This is nothing but love pure and true. I feel like I’m drowning in him completely and absolutely. Melting into him so perfectly.

I don’t know how long we stood there kissing like that I the kitchen. Finally we break the kiss and touch our foreheads to each other again. I swear I can just lose myself in his eyes forever.

I want to tell him all of this so badly. I want to make him understand everything that he means to me. That he’s my world, my everything. I want him to realize I love him with everything that I am. “Jeff…” I start.

“I know” he says as he smiles.

“But…I…”

“I know Jimmieboy, I know.”

And he does. I see it. I see everything I feel completely reflected in his eyes, in his smile, in the way that he touches me and the way he says my name. I know for the first time in my life I’ve found my soul mate no matter what happens or doesn’t happen.

He pulls my head down on his shoulder again and I let him even though I know his hand must hurt and we are still standing in a wrecked kitchen. But, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters when he’s caressing the back of my neck that way and whispering in my ear.

Nothing matters but us.

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com