Over

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Summary: Jeff comes to terms with missing the chase and what must come next.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon, Jeff POV
CATEGORY: Slight angst
COMPLETED: September 11, 2005
WORD COUNT: 2,103
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: This is to everyone who watched Richmond last night with a broken heart. Believe me, I feel your pain.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This takes place directly after the Richmond race where Jeff failed to make the chase. I guess it’s not too much of a surprise that afterwards he started screaming at me. I will admit though, this did not end up where I expected.
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Richmond International Raceway , September 10, 2005

It’s over.

It’s really, really over.

That’s all I can tell myself at this point, but still, I don’t really believe it. I can’t. This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. This isn’t how it’s supposed to end…in frustration and disappointment. In failure. Because I don’t fail. I don’t come up short. No, I win. It’s what I do. It’s who I am…or at least that’s what I thought.

I’m not one of those on the outside looking in. I never have been. I’m one of those who does the impossible, pulls through during crunch time. I’m who everyone else wants to be. To put it simply, I win.

Except…I didn’t.

And now it’s over.

Maybe I should be relieved that it’s all finished. But I’m not. I can’t be because this isn’t me. This isn’t what I do. Except it is. We lost. I lost. And there’s nothing I can do about it. There’s no more next week we’ll pull it all together, next time we’ll find what’s been wrong and fix it. There are no more next times, and at some point, I know that’s all going to sink in. But so far, it hasn’t. Because I still can’t believe it. And right now, I just want to be alone because sooner or later I know it’s all going to hit me.

And I don’t know what happens then…because it’s never happened before.

Oh, I mean, I’ve lost before. Hell, losing the championship last year almost crushed me. But that was only for a little while, only for a few days, because I knew this year would be different. But it wasn’t. And here I am…where ever that is.

I reach my darkened coach and am suddenly thankful that it’s completely deserted. I guess the media really only wants to interview the losers for so long. There’s too many winners to harass tonight. A fact I know too well from experience, and something that won’t be happening with me tonight because I’m just another loser.

I grit my teeth as I slide open the door to my coach and climb into the darkened, empty space. I’m just glad Ingrid didn’t push when I not so politely asked her to leave. She was the first to come to me tonight and it was all I could do to be civil. But she’s a good girl, I have to admit. For some reason she puts up with my racing and what it does to me, especially on a night like tonight…except, there’s never really been a night like tonight. But she does know what comes first in my life, so when I told her I needed to be alone she didn’t even question me.

Lucky me.

Slide the door closed behind me and don’t even bother turning on the light as I head to my bedroom, unzipping my firesuit along the way. The lights from the track filter through the few windows giving my coach an eerie glow that, for some reason, seems to fit my mood. I toe off my shoes as I reach the bedroom door and rest my hand against the wall as the night’s events flood my mind again--but still don’t really touch me--because this night isn’t really real. Right?

But it is real, I remind myself again. If it wasn’t Jimmie wouldn’t have caught me on the way to my coach, bypassing the “winner’s” celebration to press against me and whisper in a low voice that he could meet me tonight. That he could get away from Channi and come to me like he used to what seems like so long ago. But to his surprise--and even mine--I turned him down. I don’t want his pity, his consolation, tonight. I don’t need it. Because I’m not a loser.

Or am I?

Damn, even Dale went out of his way to give me a look letting me know he’d be here waiting for me if I asked. But I didn’t. Instead, I just shook my head at him and walked away as fast as I could so I could get away. So I could be alone. But now that I’m here, in the muted silence of my coach, I’m really not sure what to do next.

So I let routine take over and finish stepping out of the heavy material of my trade, kicking it to the corner, followed quickly by the rest of my fire-retardant clothing. Then I move to my dresser, tossing an older T-shirt on the bed and then slip into my favorite worn pair of jeans. Turn, grab the soft cotton and pull it over my head, even as my eyes pass over the drawer to the small bedside table.

I know what’s still in there, buried in the back, mixed with who knows what other junk. I remember the long forgotten stale pack of cigarettes I bought one night after Jimmie announced his engagement. And I could pull them out now, sit back and reminisce the way I did then. But it didn’t help--the slow burn in my lungs--it didn’t stop the inevitable. So why should I bother now?

I shake my head at the thought and walk barefooted back into the main room of the coach. As I see the door I wonder, have I had my last visitor tonight? Surely Robbie knows-- No, I’m pretty sure I won’t be seeing him tonight. Not the way things have been going lately. But I push that thought out of my mind--still not able to force myself to focus on it--and head to the fridge to get a drink.

I pull open the door and instantly reach for a Pepsi, but as my hand comes into contact with the plastic bottle I find myself glancing over to the low cabinet by the sink. I know there’s still a bottle of Crown there, more than enough to obliterate my mind like I did last year at Homestead. But just as with everything else tonight…it just doesn’t interest me. I just wanna….

Honestly I’m really not sure what I want. I shake my head, trying to break out of this daze and grab the leftover pizza Brian and I split last night. I drop the box on the counter and pull out a piece, biting into the cold slice as I walk back into the living area and drop down on the couch. I start to reach for the TV remote out of habit and stop myself, hand hovering over the black controller beside me. Do I really want to hear all the interviews? Do I really want to see….

No, I decide firmly and take another bite of pizza. Then I twist open the soda and take a long drink, as I let my mind go blank to my monotonous post-race routines. But I can’t keep it that way. No, instead my head is suddenly spinning with so many races, so many chances, where we--I--fell flat on my face. How many races did we start up front only to fall back lap after lap? How many times did I go in for an adjustment only to have the car come off the pits worse than before? And how many times was the car just shit from the get go?

Too many.

Too many times I was helpless, trapped in a car that I couldn’t do a damn thing with. I swear, at times, it made me wonder if it was me, if I’d just forgotten how to drive. But then we had races like Martinsville, coming back from laps down as I drove my butt off. And Sonoma, where I could slice through the field…until the damn gear stuck in 3rd. I know I can still drive. I know it. So the real problem has to lie with….

Still I don’t want to face it. Still I don’t want to admit it’s over. Why can’t it ever last? Why can’t things just stay the same? Why couldn’t I “complete the mission,” finish off the “drive for five” and get him one more championship like he deserves? My God, in all the years we’ve been together all I could manage was one. One. And he deserves so much more than that! He deserves the same as Ray, more even, for the way he’s always stood by me. But I couldn’t make it happen, and now I know it’s too late.

Shit.

I don’t want to face this. I don’t want to admit it. But I knew it was coming. I knew it last year when his mom got sick. I knew it this year when there were times even I could see his heart wasn’t in it. Robbie wants a life--needs a life--and being a crew chief just isn’t enough anymore. I could see he was drowning, but I didn’t want to admit it because I didn’t want to lose him. I still don’t. I just want things to stay the same.

But they never can. And that’s a lesson I’ve been forced to learn over and over again. Brooke, Ray, Dale, Ricky, Jimmie, Robbie…. They’ve all come in and out of my life when all I wanted was for them to stay. But they never do and I’m always left wondering if somehow it was me, if somehow I drove them away…even though I know that’s not exactly true. But part of it is. It’s been my obsession with being the best that’s caused me to lose them all. It’s the fact that at the end of the day they’ve all known it was racing that mattered the most. Racing that consumed my mind, heart and soul. Racing that pushed me not to pay enough attention, to push too hard, to make them all go. Now it’s all happening again.

And I have to make it happen.

Even if Robbie wasn’t already all but stepping out of the way, I know what I’d have to do. What something deep inside me forces me to do. It’s not working anymore. He’s not working anymore, and as much as I love him like he’s my own family…I need more. I need to win. I crave it like I need to breathe, and for whatever reason, I know that can’t happen with things the way they are. We have to make a change. I have to make a change even though it tears at my heart to do it. At least I have the consolation of knowing it will make things easier for him. That on one level, I know it’s what he wants too. But still, I know he burns to be a crew chief. That he loves it all like I do…just not as much as I do.

Damn it to hell, why am I such an asshole? Why do I care so much and constantly want things around me to be perfect and remain that way forever when I know they can’t. Shit, I know all too well how frickin’ high maintenance I can be. But why can’t I stop being so obsessive, so insane? And what the hell am I going to do now?

I close my eyes, having finally finished off the pizza, and let my head drop back on the couch. I know what I’ll do. I’ll play the media game same as always, telling them how everything is going to be fine and we’ll have everything turned around before they know it. But will we? I know I’m going to lose Robbie, at least on the box. Who the hell am I going to get to take his place…not that anyone really could. He’s been so much more than a crew chief to me. He’s been a friend, a confidant, a cheerleader…just like Ray was but so different at the same time. Why can’t we just fix what’s wrong an go on the way we were? Why couldn’t I have just somehow done the impossible and make the chase?

Because it’s over.

Because it’s time to move on…again.

Because it’s time to do what I do best. Go down in a ball of flames only to rise from the ashes again. And I will. I will do it for Robbie, for Rick, for everyone I’ve ever cared about because it’s what I do. It’s just the way I am, what I was made for. And I’ll win. I’ll win for them all as well as myself.

Because…actually….

It’s never over.

Not for me.

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com