Solace

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Summary: Jimmie has just had his 3rd DNF in a row and lost the points lead to Jeff. Now he’s looking for a little bit of solace in his closest friend and mentor.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon/Jimmie Johnson, Jeff POV
CATEGORY: General
COMPLETED: August 23, 2004
WORD COUNT: 2,426
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: Ahh, after that race I just couldn’t help writing this. Poor Jimmie seemed so down, and Jeff just seemed to be more worried about Jimmie’s finish than taking over the points lead. So I thought Jimmie just needed a friend. ;-)
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Ann Arbor, Michigan: August 22th, 2004

I walk into the hotel just as the sun is setting and make my way to the front desk where I know there will be a key waiting for me. I sign in and pick up the card and head to the elevators where I punch the button for the top floor. He always is a sucker for a nice view.

I wasn’t surprised at all when I found his hastily scribbled note in my coach telling me where he’d be. The media can be relentless when you are the points leader, even more so when you lose it. We can always fly back on my jet to North Carolina tomorrow, I think as I leave the elevator and find my assigned room.

I unlock the door dropping my bag just inside and walk across the suite to unlock the door to the adjoining room. The door in the other suite is already open as expected, and as I walk through it I see him sitting by the window looking out at what scenery the Michigan night has to offer. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence, but I know that he knows I’m here.

I cross the room to stand behind him and without a word put my hands on his shoulders and start trying to work out some of the tension I knew I would find there. As I rub his shoulders his head drops forward, and I work on the knotted muscles of his neck with my thumbs. It actually strikes me as a little ironic that this is becoming routine when for so many weeks our roles were reversed.

I notice the remote on the table beside him. I bet he was watching the post race. I wonder if he saw my interview, saw my disappointment at his misfortune. I can’t believe this has happened to him three weeks in a row. I honestly wasn’t even concerned about taking the points lead as much I was about the obvious engine problems we’re having. What did they say? I haven’t lead the points since 2001?

I’ve never been much on statistics, so that really didn’t mean much to me. What does it really matter right now anyway? The whole thing all but disappears in a few weeks. I just wish Jimmie wasn’t letting the pressure get to him so much. The tension just radiates from him. I feel him take in a deep breath and sigh, and I continue trying to relax the muscles in his neck and shoulders without a word until he finally breaks the silence.

“It’s not going to be my year,” he says quietly still looking down.

Did I hear him right? I squeeze his shoulders a little more firmly and tell him, “Why would you say that? It’s just a few bad races, some bad luck.” I hate to hear him sound so dejected, so lost. Why on earth would he think that the season is over? We haven’t even gotten to the last 10 races.

“You took the points lead,” he says bluntly.

Is he mad at me for that? He doesn’t sound mad. He just sounds beat, and I really don’t like it at all. I’m trying to remember another time I’ve heard him sound so defeated and I can’t. I’m trying to figure out what to say to his last comment, but all I come up with is, “So? You’ll take it back next week, or in the last 10 races. How is that the end of the world?” I try and tease.

Haven’t I all but heard these same words from his lips so many times in the last two and a half years? Telling me everything’s going to be ok, I’ll be on top again. So, now his words are coming true and it’s to his detriment. Sometimes it really sucks when your closest friend is your most fierce competitor.

“I know you never give up the lead once you take it. We’ll all just end up chasing you,” he says softly and I can’t stand the flat sound of his voice. That’s not him. He doesn’t give up so easily. That’s why I picked him not even having a top ten in his Busch car. The fire in his eyes when he gets in the car and the fierce determination he exudes out of it are the reasons I knew he would be a champion. Sometimes looking at him is like looking in a mirror. That’s why I know he’s just wallowing in self pity right now, that he doesn’t believe a word of what he’s saying.

“So, you’re just gonna go and cede the championship to me now then? Funny, Johnson, I never pegged you as a quitter,” I mock him already knowing the response I’ll get.

His head snaps up at my words and he turns to look at me over his shoulder. “See if I let you pass me again so easily, Gordon,” he sharply replies. There’s my boy, I think as I see that familiar fire burning in his eyes again. He’s not a quitter. He’s just frustrated the same way I’ve been until recently. I just smile at him and continue rubbing at his shoulders. He’s finally starting to relax as his looks back out the window again.

It’s a fine balance we maintain, the two of us. Constantly encouraging and pushing each other. Off the track we are each other’s biggest fans, cheering each other’s victories and sharing in the defeats. But, on the track he’s the biggest rival I’ve got, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. If anyone beats me, I rather it be him, and I know he feels the same. But, if I do have the chance to pass him on the track, he knows I’ll take it, just like I know he’ll do the same.

I always had to laugh at the idiots who would ask if there were ever team orders between us, or if he would ever back off when he races his “boss.” No one could ever ask such stupid questions if they really knew us. If I thought for a minute he would give me an inch he wouldn’t be in my car, and I know if there ever was such an “order” he would just laugh himself silly as he drove on by. But, away from the track his victories are mine just as his defeats are mine as well, and I know it’s the same for him.

“You got here really fast. You have to be starving. There’s pizza over on the table. No green peppers, of course.”

I have to smile again at his words. There he is always looking out for me, just like I do for him. He knows I’m always famished after a race, and he knew I would waist no time in getting here, just like I know he would do the same. I rub his neck for a few more moments before giving his shoulders one more squeeze and walk over to the pizza.

As I reach for a piece of the cold pizza I notice the bucket of ice with a few cans of Pepsi in it. I smile and grab one suddenly realizing how thirsty I am. As I finally bite into the pizza I hear my stomach growl and look up to see him laugh as he gets up and comes my way. “You’re always so predictable,” he says.

“Yeah, well, I notice you didn’t exactly wait for me,” I reply motioning with my Pepsi at the half eaten box of pizza. He always loves teasing me when I tend to eat everything in site after a race, not that he’s much different. He just grins at me and snags another piece and we proceed to eat our fill.

Just as I’m polishing off my third piece I hear him say, “Thanks for staying with me.”

“Not a problem,” I say between bites, “the jet can wait.” It’s not like this is the first time we’ve done this. Sometimes the long trip home is just too much, and it’s just better to relax for awhile, especially after a bad day. Jimmie flops down in another chair by the table and I tell him, “I already told Robbie to be expecting me in tomorrow as soon as we get back. I want to know exactly what is going on with these cars. This is getting ridiculous.”

Jimmie just nods and says, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure Chad’s going to be expecting me too. I wasn’t exactly cheerful when I left,” he says and smiles. Then he shakes his head and continues, “But, I don’t know Jeff. I don’t know that some of this isn’t my fault. The spin at the Brickyard, trashing the transmission last week, and today maybe I just ran it too hard. You said yourself your engine wasn’t right at the end of the race, but you managed to hold it together. Maybe I’m just pushing it too much,” he runs his fingers through his hair at this last statement then leans his head back against the chair looking up to the ceiling.

I wash down my fourth slice of pizza with the sweet cola and shake my head at him. “Jimmie, you can’t be looking to blame yourself. Cars break, things happen when you least expect them to. You never know when you’re just going to blow a tire or get wrapped up in someone else’s mess. Don’t be trying to take all the blame,” I try to convince him. Now I know why he was so down. He’s trying to put everything on himself, and he’ll drive himself crazy doing that.

He lifts his head and looks at me for a long moment, obviously thinking over what I said. “Yeah you’re probably right,” he says shrugging his shoulders. “You’ve had plenty of experience after all.”

I look up to see him grinning at me with that teasing look of his and I toss a piece of crust at him. He just laughs catching it and takes a bite. “Yeah, yeah,” I reply. “But, I’m not the one who was ready to throw in the towel on the season earlier.”

His eyes have lost that defeated look, and I know he’s going to be back to his winning ways in no time. I knock back the rest of my Pepsi and walk over to the other table grabbing the remote. Then I make my way to the bed dropping down onto it and propping myself up against the pillows on the head board before flipping on the TV and turning it to NASCAR Victory Lane. I look at him still sitting across the room and just raise an eyebrow at him as if to say, well?

He pushes himself up and walks over to me saying, “I never said I was giving up. I was just…”

“…wallowing in self pity?” I finish for him with a smile. He makes a face at me as he walks around the bed and lays across it resting his head in my lap. I just smile at the comfortable way we’ve found with each other as I start to rub his neck again. There’s just no one else I want to be with after a race anymore watching all the recap shows and rehashing the race.

I don’t know if we’ll ever find anyone else who understands us the same way. Racing is our entire life, our entire world, and I love being able to share that with him, even if I’m still going to have to beat him next week at Bristol. I smile at the thought and tease him while playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, “So, are you and Chad still going to be doing that ‘the race is done don’t look back’ thing again tomorrow?”

“Probably,” he replies. “It’s that or go print up some of those ‘Refuse to Lose’ shirts you love so much.”

I just laugh at the rituals we both just have to follow. It’s funny really, when you think about it. When things go well you latch on to these “things” that you say or do which just seem to keep everything rolling. But, when things go bad you just seem to cling to them all the more hoping things will turn around. I know I’ve yet to be able to run a race without having that slogan written across my shirt in so long I can’t even imagine it.

We both just sit and watch the interviews for awhile before I hear him ask me, “Are you ever going to check that dynasty thing off the list?”

I just laugh at his question and ask him in turn, “You think I’ve earned that yet?”

“I dunno,” he mumbles. “Just wondering.”

I gently rub his neck, then play with his hair a little more before finally answering, “Well, if I do that then what’s left? I’m having too much fun trying to kick your butt every week to want to give that up.”

I feel him laugh and then say, “Yeah, better not do that yet then.”

I sit there with his head in my lap and truly realize how much I don’t want to give this up, ever. I’ve never felt like someone knew me so well, never felt so comfortable with anyone. I just hope we can always keep up this balance between our off track relationship and our on track rivalry. I really don’t know how I would handle losing either.

I listen to the reporters grilling Mark about missing lug nuts and shake my head. I guess TNT found a way to get their drama outside of victory lane this week. I start to say something about that when I hear a soft snore coming from my protégé. I just have to smile as it seems to be his turn to crash first.

I carefully shift on the pillows behind my back to make myself a little more comfortable without waking him up. Then I flip off the TV and relax. I close my eyes and think that I just hope next week will be better for both of us. I just hope we can figure out what the problem is with our dang cars, and I just hope that next week neither one of us is waiting in a hotel room for the other seeking solace.

Author’s Note: For those of you who aren’t long time Gordon fans the “dynasty thing” Jimmie refers too is a check list in the shop that Ray Evernham originally put up when Jeff started in Cup. It has several “goals” they wanted to reach which have all been checked off except for the last one. They are:

From nobody to upstart.
From upstart to contender.
From contender to winner.
From winner to champion.
Champion to Dynasty.

As to when or if they ever plan on checking off the last goal, who knows? Just thought it might be fun to mention. ~Cat

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com