The Prodigal Pearl

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Summary: Is it ever too late to go home?

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG
CHARACTER: Brad Keselowski, Brad POV
PROMPT: Taming the Muse #159-161 (#136 for me & #5-6/24 for me 2nd run) - Babylon, Trump Card, Fool’s Paradise
COMPLETED: September 17, 2008
WORD COUNT: 1,372
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 is a bit of a future fic I could see happening. Also, let me just say the title is a bit of an inside joke...but somehow it fits. LOL
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Late in the Season in 2011...

It was the hardest thing I ever had to do.

I’m sure there are plenty of people who might find me a little strange for saying that, but I don’t care.  I’ve never really been like most people.  Junior always understood that and I think that’s what made the whole thing so damn hard.  But what else could I do?  There were no more options for any of us.  It was a complete stalemate for everyone involved and that only meant one thing.

I had to leave.

I didn’t want to.  But I didn’t have a choice.  I could only sit on my hands for so long and when Mark made his decision…I was out, no matter that I won Dega.  Rick tried to broker something with Tony, but Tony didn’t want to tax his new team with another car and I don’t blame him.  Not to mention I wasn’t the third car he was looking for.  Junior tried too but apparently I still didn’t have a big enough name to pull in my own sponsors and JRM really wasn’t a Cup team.  It wasn’t their fault.  Just like it wasn’t mine.  It was time for me to go to Cup.  So I went.

I have to admit Roger was nothing but good to me from day one.  Not many car owners would take on a driver who still had the mighty HMS laying claim to them in every media outlet out there.  It was flattering, but it didn’t make the transition any easier.  I couldn’t look back or look to the future.  That wasn’t going to get me anywhere.  I knew better than anyone what Junior and Pops and Rick did for me but I couldn’t dwell on that.  I was a Dodge driver now and I had to let it go.

Can you really ever let something like that go?

Racing for me has always been about family.  My family’s team, racing with my brother, seeing how Junior’s sister ran JRM, that’s all family.  That’s how things should be.  It’s why I loved being there because they did things the way they should be done.  They look after their own and raced to win.  I didn’t want to let that go.  But I couldn’t sit on my hands anymore.  I’m honestly not sure what hurt more, letting go or seeing it go on without me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Bires ran so good in my--in the 88.  The team deserved to run well and I’m glad he even managed to win for them.  I just hope they were glad for me when I won for the “enemy.”  It shouldn’t have felt that way, but somehow it did.  I’ve always felt like an outsider at Penske and Victory Lane was no different.  Sure everyone was happy and even Junior came by, but it wasn’t the same.  It wasn’t like ‘Dega.  But I guess you can never go back to your first win any more than you can go home again.

Pull my truck into a parking spot and shut it off.  Run my hands over the wheel and shake my head.  It hadn’t been easy walking away like I did.  For awhile I felt like I should’ve been looking for a new place to live since I wasn’t really Junior’s “boy” anymore.  It made sense to live on his land when I drove for him, but since I wasn’t I was worried it might become an issue, but TJ convinced me otherwise.  Granted he may have just wanted to keep me around to have someone he could beat on Xbox.  Either way it was good not to be completely shut out. 

But it wasn’t the same.

How could it be?  June and I went from travelling and doing appearances together to saying hi at the track.  TJ went from being the constant and reassuring voice in my ear to a buddy who called me up for random gaming nights.  I guess just stopping by isn’t so easy when you aren’t living the same schedule anymore.  I’m just glad TJ and Mike at least tried to keep me in the loop...as much as they could for being on different teams.  Thank goodness for Twitter I guess.

It’s funny how much being on separate teams changes things.  There’s just so much you took for granted you can’t do anymore.  That was beat over my head in Daytona after a member of my new crew saw me chatting up Gordon in the garage.  They didn’t seem to mind what he told me, but I was thoroughly cautioned against sharing any “information” with my former teammates.  Gotta say that pretty much sucked, but I got it.  I just didn’t like it.  Now I wonder how things will change this year.

Slide out of my truck and the sense of déjà vu wraps around me with each step I take.  Will things be the same?  Will they be different?  Honestly I’m not even sure what to hope for.  I don’t know why but somehow two years feels like ten and I know I’m not even the same person who walked away.  Will that matter?  Will I still be the kid and the rookie or will they see me as someone different?  I know I feel different…but does it matter?

Stop in front of the spotless glass doors and take a deep breath.  I didn’t think this would be so hard.  Pull the door open and I can’t look at anything or anyone as my feet take over, already familiar with their destination.  Climb the stairs and before I know it I’m face to face with a large wooden door and my mouth goes dry.  This was supposed to be easy but now I’m doubting everything.  What if this “meeting” isn’t what I thought?  What if they’ve moved on without me in more ways than I thought?  What if the new beginning I’ve been hoping for is nothing but the end of the line?

Eyes go wide when the door opens from the inside and I see there’s a full house already.  Junior and Pops are in the far corner with TJ at their side messing with his phone.  Alan and Tony Jr. are on the other side of the room deep in conversation and for a moment I think no one sees me.  But that moment passes quickly when all eyes, even those of Jeff who’s sitting in a chair next to two empty ones, all turn towards me.  I shift uncomfortable as they all stare because I can’t read a one of them.  Please tell me I didn’t fuck this all up.  Please….

“Welcome home, Brad.”

My head snaps around to finally see who opened the door and I’m met by the kind, warm eyes of the man himself.  I wonder if he knows how much I was afraid I’d let him down when I left two years ago.  He made it a point to tell everyone he could get me back, but I knew the unspoken part to that deal.  I had to earn it.  I had to make him want to bring me back.  At first I figured it’d be easy, but no one can really prepare you for a full Cup season, let alone two.  It was tough, but somehow I made it through and even into the Chase, twice.  Part of me knew that should’ve been enough, but as he welcomes me with open arms I know I was never really sure until this moment.

A slow smile spread across my face as I finally see that everyone else is wearing the same welcoming look.  This isn’t a big bad negotiation meeting, though I’m sure that will be addressed.  This is a welcome home party, and for the first time in a long time I actually feel like I am home.  This is where I belong.  This is the only place I want to be.  Grin until I feel like my face is going to split in two and look back to the man that can only be called a Godfather to our sport.

“It’s good to be home, Mr. H.  It’s really, really good to be home.”

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com