The Bond

Home : Stories by Catw00man : The Bond

Summary: Some things are forever.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG
CHARACTER: Jimmie Johnson/Jeff Gordon
CATEGORY: General/Romance
COMPLETED: October 2, 2006
WORD COUNT: 1,074
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 Heather who woke a muse that has been dormant since prewedding 2004. I don’t know if I should hug you or run screaming!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This...is a vast departure from my usual writing and the first 3rd person fic I’ve ever written. But Jeff demanded it pour out this way and when have I ever been able to argue with him?
AUTHOR'S NOTE2: This takes plas post Kansas, the 3rd race of the Chase 2006. Jeff was knocked out of a top 10 run with fuel pump issues for his 5 DNF of the season and Jimmie was cheated out of a win by speeding on pitroad and a pitting error. That being said...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Post Race - Kansas Speedway: October 1st, 2006

He slips from his hauler, where he took refuge from the storm that practically engulfed him whole, and hurriedly makes his way to the motor coach lot, praying desperately that he’ll just be able to slip away, melting into the background and the race continues to rage on. He barely held it together this time as the media backed him up against the hauler, microphones shoved in his face, and laid his failures out for the world to see. Like sharks circling their kill they assaulted him for whys and what nows even as he swallowed against the lump in his throat at things so far out of his control. His voice wavered, almost cracking, against the despair and heartache that filled him and he knows the world, the media saw it all. But still...he held it together.

But for how much longer?

Quickly he cuts through the garage into the safety of his temporary home and rushes to the safest place he knows, the only sanctuary he has here--his teammate’s coach. He knows it will be empty, even as he unlocks the door. Wives and girlfriends aren’t welcome at this point in the season, not that they would want to be here with the stress and pressure that can turn even the most mild mannered in to a raging Mr. Hyde. No, the model will not be here. Neither one is. And with that knowledge he quietly slips inside.

Slides the door shut behind him and doesn’t bother with the light, the dim surroundings feeling like welcoming arms as he moves to drop down on the couch, shutting out the storm of 3400 pound beasts continuing to battle for ultimate domination. He sucks in a breath, unsurprised when it hitches in his throat and takes comfort from the things around him as familiar to him as his own. He’s safe here and finally, finally he can let go.

Feels the wetness on his cheeks and he does nothing to stop it, knowing it’s all necessary, all part of maintaining his sanity--something he must do at all costs. He’s come so far from the young man who burst into tears, completely overcome with emotion from his first win, his first championship, his first wedding. Necessity has forced him to lock it all inside, shutting it all away from the glaring public light...but the young man is still inside. He’s still inside screaming in hurt and frustration as the world crashes down and the pressures become too much, but still he holds him back. He keeps him a prisoner deep, deep inside until times like right now...when he knows he’s safe.

Only one other knows about these times, even if he’s never seen it, even if he’s only witnessed the aftermath of bloodshot eyes and tear damp cheeks. They’ve never spoke of it, these times alone, but still it’s a secret they both hold dear. Time flies, seconds becoming minutes that spin past unnoticed, as the multicolored demons of steel and rubber finally become silent. And as the unchecked flow finally dries up the door opens and the other half comes inside.

One look at him is all it takes to know the cruel mistress of fate has bitten them both and in an instant he wordlessly comes closer. Crawls onto the couch with him, long legs curled underneath, and he wraps his arms around the older man’s waist. Presses his face to his stomach as his own world crumbles around him, mirrored anguish in them both, but this one shared, as the first slowly strokes the younger one’s hair over and over, each taking strength from the unspoken connection.

Here they are safe and the walls that they erect day after day out of necessity crumble, like sand castles washed away by the tide. Moments like this are rare, as the world closes in on them more and more telling them who they should be and what’s right and wrong. These windows become fewer and fewer and they both know they will become fewer still in the days that lay ahead, but the connection they’ve formed grows no weaker even in the face of so many expectations and so much adversity.

The bond.

Stronger than love and more powerful than passion it binds them together in an unending circle of unwavering trust and complete understanding. Nothing in this world can come close to this tie that intertwines their souls as one, two halves of a whole seeking nothing but the togetherness they feel in moments such as these. No one else knows and no one else can touch this level of absolute knowing they have for each other no matter the distance that may be forced between them. This unity they have together is unbreakable and they each relish the closeness even as the younger one’s shaking starts to subside.

Maybe they will stay this way, wrapped in each other as the sun falls into the horizon and the temporary city of wanderers finally disperse into the night, or maybe they will move to the back of the weekend home, disappearing into the darkness and each other as they seek comfort and shelter from the storm. Or perhaps they will slip away to some other secluded local, melting into the crowd like the chameleons they seek to imitate day after day. But where ever they go, the location doesn’t matter, they will be together mind, heart, and soul just as they always are even when they can’t reach out to touch the other.

Arms loosen slightly and a soft sigh is heard as the catharsis of truly letting go is reached, and still he strokes his hair, the constant touch just a shadow of the unseen thread binding them together. He curls closer to him, head finally resting in the other’s lap as the older one lightly traces the younger’s face and finally speaks softly the words he doesn’t even need to say.

“We’ll make it through Jimmieboy...we’ll make it through.”

And in their hearts they each know this is true, no matter what the world throws their way. Winning, losing, championships or not they will be strong. They will survive. Girlfriends, fiancés, wives, it doesn’t matter. The world can try to mold them a dozen different ways into a dozen different things but still this bond will remain.

Still this bond will remain.

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