Teammates

Home : Stories by Catw00man : Teammates

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to have a teammate.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: R, for language
CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon, Jimmie Johnson, Jeff POV
CATEGORY: General, Slight Angst
COMPLETED: November 15, 2004
WORD COUNT: 2,979
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: For Jeffy who just seemed so disappointed and mad it broke my heart. Go get ‘em next week babe!!!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: You could say this takes place in the same verse as Solace, basically as a sequel. But you definitely don’t have to read that to read this. This is just something Jeff demanded I write last night on the way back home after watching the race. LOL Who am I to argue.
AUTHOR'S NOTE 2: Oh, and for those of you who didn’t actually watch the race, Jeff led the most laps and was the leader with about 30 to go and his crew dropped the car on the air hose causing him to come out 7th. Grrrrrrr
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Darlington, SC: Sunday Night, November 14, 2004

An air hose. A fucking air hose. A fucking air hose that may very well end up costing me the championship.

Unbelievable.

I slowly pull my car onto pit road and stop to unbuckle my belts before tossing the wheel onto the dash. I pull off my helmet and grab my hat, which is beside me, putting it on and mentally gathering my thoughts to face the cameras. They hardly give you any time anymore to compose yourself, and as much as I would like to get out and rant and complain I know I can’t. Attacking my team isn’t going to help with one to go…but if they hadn’t screwed me over….

I sigh as I straighten my hat and I can already feel the press of media around my car. If I don’t get out soon they will start shoving their microphones inside, pinning me down like a caged animal. No thank you. I’d rather face them on my own two feet.

I reach up with my left hand, gripping the roof of the car as I pull myself out and I barely even have time to get both feet on the ground before the microphones are thrust into my face, but honestly I’m used to it. I do my best to hold in my frustration, but I know it is coming off of me in waves. We could have won. We should have won. I know I could have held them off if I’d only had the chance. But instead I end up playing catch up with far too few laps to go.

I don’t even listen to their questions as I make sure to say how happy I am for my teammate, but if they only knew what I really felt inside. Sure I’m glad for him. He’s my best friend. He’s driving my car. But as I glance in the direction of victory lane I feel the burning desire in my chest that tells me this was my race to win, not his. I should be standing there, covered in confetti and champagne, taking the points lead. But instead I stand here on pit road trying not to vent too harshly about my crew.

An air hose. Not a dropped lugnut, or broken air gun, or fallen jack. An air hose. Something that should never happen. I don’t even remember whose job it is to pull the hose out of the way. They don’t even go over the wall. I’d really like to find out who’s responsible…but how is that really going to help me with one to go?

We need to be a team. We need to pull together. But how can I do that when they screw me out of the lead with thirty to go? I see the media finally begin to pull back, heading off to attack someone else, and I guess whatever I said must have been good enough. Once the way is a little more clear I begin walking over to victory lane to congratulate Jimmie.

What does this make? Eight? I shake my head as I remember seasons like that and can’t help but feel the small burning flame of jealousy deep inside. I try to push the feeling away. I try to be happy for my teammate, but the bitter taste of defeat is still fresh on my tongue making true happiness for him impossible for the moment. So instead I just force my patented camera-worthy smile across my face as victory lane finally comes into view.

I see that he is just about to get out of the car, and as he does I finally feel that burning sting of jealously fade as my smile becomes more genuine. I am happy for him. I’m always happy for him. I start to make my way over to him to grab him behind the neck and give him a big hug, when I see him cross over to the barricades. I freeze in my tracks as I watch him kiss her on the lips before turning to the camera for his interviews as the confetti begins to shower over him.

I completely forgot she was here.

I turn sharply on my heel, my dark mood coming back over me as I ignore the adorable smile I barely glimpsed as he brushed away the small pieces of paper sticking to his skin as he talked. I walk quickly back in the direction of my motorcoach deliberately avoiding my crew and my hauler. I know there is no way I can face them right now as the disappointment and anger wells up in me again.

Unfortunately I end up getting caught by some more reporters and I do my best not to completely snap their heads off. I’m much shorter with this second batch of predators, but still I manage to keep from losing it. Finally they seem to have enough and I make it to the drivers’ lot. I spot my coach immediately and cross over to it, stepping inside and dropping down on the couch just inside the door.

I pull off my hat, dropping it beside me on the couch. Then I close my eyes, running both hands through my hair as I lean my head against the back of the couch and stretch my legs out in front of me. Why is this all so hard, I think, as I slide my hands down from my hair and press my palms over my closed eyes, finally letting myself think about what I’ve been pushing to the back of my mind all season.

It’s going to come down to me and Jimmie.

I’ve known it all along and I’ve just tried not to think about it. I couldn’t dwell on it. I didn’t want to think about everything coming down to the two of us, when there would only be one winner. One of us gets that shiny, heavy, silver brand new trophy we held together at the beginning of the chase and the other goes home empty-handed with only dreams of next season to ease his mind. I don’t want it to be me. I don’t want to lose again…but I don’t want him to walk away with nothing either.

This is why I didn’t want to think about it.

Jimmie deserves this. He’s won the most races. Hell, he’s won four out of the last five. He’s dominating again and he should be rewarded…but I’ve worked all season long, coming back again and again. I’ve fought and clawed and scratched my way into this, why shouldn’t it be me? Why did my crew have to take me out?

I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands and let my arms drop to the couch on either side of me and stare up at the ceiling. I never had any idea I’d ever be in a situation like this. I’m a racecar driver. I’m not supposed to care about anyone else. I’m just supposed to win and win and not give a crap about the competition. But I do. How many times have his victories, his defeats felt like mine? How many times has he told me the same about mine? How many times have we celebrated and commiserated with each other this season and why isn’t he here tonight?

Oh, that’s right. She’s here.

I sigh and shake my head. I shouldn’t be so jealous. I should be happy for his happiness. If only I didn’t miss him so much…

It’s such a strange situation between us anyway. We shouldn’t care so much about each other. Sometimes I wonder if we really should even have teammates anyway. How do you split yourself that way, cheering for your competition when you’d just as soon pass them and steal their win away? Just like he did mine tonight.

I shake my head again and stretch my arms up over my head, and realize I don’t even feel like moving. I don’t feel like doing anything but sitting here in my confusion and misery because I know there is only one person who can bring me out of this and he’s not here. I should have gone to victory lane. I should have gone to see him, no matter what. No matter how upset and jealous I was. I know I would feel better now if I did. He always has a way of easing the pain of losing….

I’m already dreading next week. It doesn’t matter how it comes out, one of us loses. I know others would say I should be worried about Kurt or Dale, but I’ve known all season how this would play out, I just forgot for awhile. I forgot five races ago when he was over two hundred points down. I think we all assumed it was over then. Surely they couldn’t come back from that deficit, right? But somewhere inside I know I knew better. Just like I knew this is what would happen.

But for a little while I was able to forget. I was able to just try to concentrate on my own season…not that I wasn’t affected by his misfortune. Every wreck, every blown engine could have been mine. And when he would come to me when our fortunes were reversed somehow we made it all right. But then came that weekend from hell….

I’ll never forget feeling the entire world on my shoulders as we sat up on that stage in front of what might as well have been a firing squad instead of reporters. I could barely talk at first. I could barely compose myself with so many staring at me, wanting things from me, pressuring me. Sitting there and listening to Terry talk about how we needed to bring home the championship for Rick, when I was the only one even in contention. I have never felt so overwhelmed. I couldn’t even speak. But he could.

I swear, he really is my rock sometimes. I watched him answer the things we couldn’t or didn’t want to, and as always he handled himself perfectly. I sat there and watched him be strong for us all and I knew I had to do the same. I had to pull it together. So I did. I took strength from him when he probably didn’t even know it and vowed to win this thing for us all…but now it’s not all on me anymore is it?

Jimmie snuck up on us all. We turned our heads and there he was right behind us stacking up win after win. Everything isn’t all on me anymore. It never really was. He even told me as much, I just didn’t listen. He never gave up, and now here we are. Teammates. Best friends. The last two people on this earth who should be forced to compete against each other, but we have no choice. We will race and we will do anything it takes to beat each other and we’ll love every minute of it…until we slip from the cars and the world closes back in.

I prop my feet up on the coffee table in front of me and push back on the couch a little more. One of us will win and get all the spoils of being the champion. It should be him. He’s earned it. Maybe that would finally get him some of the respect he deserves and never seems to get. But at the same time, haven’t I worked just as hard? I don’t have as many wins, but I’ve been there at the end. Seems like someone told me if we were under the old system I’d still be the leader. Shouldn’t that count for something? Don’t I have just as much right to this cup as him?

I sigh yet again, shaking my head in frustration. Dammit. Why did he have to get back in the chase? Why did I? Why am I going to have to beat him next weekend to win the trophy? Why do I have to take it away from him for me to win? And why do I have to sit here alone tonight?

I fold my hands across my stomach and close my eyes again trying to relax, but my body is still humming with energy from the race. It’s going to take forever for me to finally be able to get any rest, but I just sit here anyway, trying to quell my spinning thoughts. I finally feel myself begin to slightly relax into the soft leather couch when I hear a knock, followed by the opening of the door.

I turn my head slowly without lifting it from the back of the couch and open my eyes to meet sparkling brown. I feel the smile cross my lips before I can even help it and say, “What are you doing here?”

I smile even more as he comes my way and grins as he replies, “Where else would I be?”

He’s right. We’re in this together. We are teammates after all.

I watch as he closes the short distance between us and reaches his hands out to me. I take them in mine and let him pull me to my feet and meet his eyes, seeing the same conflicting emotions I know are in my own…along with the burning desire to gloat. But he won’t, I know, unless I let him. How did we ever find this balance between us?

I give him a teasing smile as I squeeze his hands before letting them go and say, “You do realize you completely robbed me tonight, right?”

He just laughs and his brown eyes sparkle again as he replies with a grin, “Suuuuure I did. Just like you did me at Daytona.”

I just smile back and turn to walk into the kitchen, asking over my shoulder, “Hungry?”

“Of course,” is his only reply as he follows me into the small kitchen in the front of the coach. But before I have a chance to start making food he steers me over to the kitchen table and has me sit in one of the chairs before moving to stand behind me. I feel his hands at my shoulders working away more tension than I even thought I had and I just let my head drop forward as I sigh.

As I feel his strong hands working at the tight muscles in my neck and shoulders I can’t help but say, “Well, at least there’s one good thing about losing to you.”

He just laughs and continues his ministrations until all the tension has drained away. Then I feel him give my shoulders another squeeze before he moves over to the refrigerator without a word and starts pulling out fixings for sandwiches. I push myself to my feet and join him at the counter, getting out a loaf of bread, and we go about making our post race feast the same as countless weeks before.

He tosses me a Pepsi as he puts things back in the refrigerator, and I grab a bag of chips and follow him back into the living room. We both fall down on the couch I was at before and I see him reach for the remote, turning the TV on to the post race coverage and we proceed to eat our fill in comfortable silence. Finally they show Jimmie’s interview in victory lane and I can’t help but smile.

“And to think, you were ready to throw in the towel on the season in Michigan,” I tease him, remembering how dejected he was after that race. “I told you everything would be fine.”

I hear him laugh and look over to see him grinning at me as he finishes off his sandwich and says, “What a surprise, the ‘Great Gordon’ is right again.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh at his teasing and I can’t help but tease him back. “You know, you better watch out next week, Johnson. Now it’s me who has nothing to lose.”

He laughs again as he leans back on the couch and turns to me saying, “Yeah I know. I’d rather you had taken the points lead. I know how you get with ‘nothing to lose’. Actually, I probably asked Chad three or four times where you were in the last thirty laps so I’d have some warning before you started pounding on my bumper.”

I smile back at him because he knows I would have done just that if I’d had the chance. Teammate or not, if I had caught him I know I’d have found a way to pass him…or at least I like to think I would have. “You’re just lucky I ran out of laps,” I say with a grin, as I lean back on the couch beside him.

We sit there in comfortable silence again, watching the recap shows until I can’t help but tease him again. “All the same, you better watch out next week, Jimmie. I won’t go down so easy again,” I say as I lean against him, letting my head fall to his shoulder.

I don’t even have to see his face to know he’s smiling as he replies, “Bring it on, Jeff.”

As we relax into each other, giving each other strength and support the way we have countless time before, I realize how stupid my thoughts were from earlier. How could I even imagine not having a teammate? How did I ever race before, without his constant support and understanding? Next week is going to be tough on us both. But I know in a few weeks one of us will end up sitting at the head table in New York.

I hope it’s me.

~Fin~

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com