i fucked up, got far too deep into the Cars trilogy hyperfixation. I read all the fics i could find on ao3 with lighting and doc having this father-son relationship, wasnt enough. also, as always, my mind was full of stupid ideas. one of which included Lightning having a sister.
after...a week of being haunted by visions, i finally wrote a scene about it. basically, in this au, lightning has a sister, Cass, 4 years older than him. He thinks she' s dead, but oh no, she actually joined a crime syndicate hahaaaa. (in my vision, she was forced. in their childhood, she used to pickpocket and do illegal stuff do get money for them. someone bad noticed her, and years later, she s forced to join, otherwise her brother would get killed.) anywayyy. so i wrote a scene where she's on the run and somehow stumbles upon radiator springs.
LMK IF I SHOULD DO IT AS AN ACTUAL FIC CUZ AAAAAAAA.
She knew it would come to this- hell, it was inevitable! The moment she agreed with the old man to join his merry band of misfits, she knew she’d anger the wrong person one day and would find herself on the fine line between life and death. The only surprise is that it happened so late, but in this sort of situation, being late is better than being early.
She’s been riding her motorcycle, going through various forgotten roads, abandoned villages, for hours now. 3 forgotten villages now, but no food, no first aid kits, just dust and scorpions invading the ruins. The towns nearby were out of the question as well, who knows where those roaches are hiding, waiting for her to show herself? Far too dangerous. She’s desperate, but not that desperate.
It’s been 30 minutes since the last sign of civilization and the sun was starting to go down. She needs to find shelter, and fast. As if a miracle from god, a sign appeared “road 66, welcome to radiator springs”.
‘huh…this will do’. getting close, she could see it was a small town, borderline to being a village. It seemed cozy and peaceful enough, she might not get found here.
‘Safety..” What a bitter taste. When was the last time she felt safe? Did she ever feel safe somewhere or with someone?
She parks near the what-seems- to-be-a restaurant, ties her jacket properly to make sure her wound wouldn't be noticed and does her best to walk without wincing. She looks miserable, she’s aware of that, but she should at least make the effort to appear vaguely alive and put together, not on the verge of collapsing (which was exactly how she felt).
On the inside it looked significantly better than outside. Rows of tables, a row of chairs by the bar, the soft lighting and decorations from a 70’s movie.
‘A bit cliche, but it would do’, she thought as she walked to the bar to see if the local was still open to visitors. It was empty, after all.
A tall woman, tanned skin was cleaning the kitchen and suddenly noticed her. She rushed to the newcomer, abandoning the wet cloth on a counter.
“Hello sweetheart, are you okay? Do you need a glass of water? I’m sure I can find something to eat for you”
She didn't get the chance to answer that the woman left in a rush, returned with a glass of water, some sort of pill- vitamin pill? it looks like it-, then left for the kitchen. 2 minutes later and one empty glass of water, the woman emerged from the other room, putting on the counter in front of her a plate.
It wasn't much: bread, some mashed potatoes and a fragment of chicken. For some reason, the woman looked apologetical.
“I’m sorry, honey, this is all I had left”
“no, no ,it's perfect. thank you” and she started eating. How long has it been since she last ate a warm meal? More than a decade, she muses.
20 minutes later, she was done. She had to take her time, the wound would have made her throw up otherwise. She slowly took out her wallet from a hidden pocket of the jacket, but was quickly stopped by a hand on her shoulder.
“it’s okay, honey, you don't owe me anything”
what? but she ate her food, made her stay before the program, and wasted her time.
“no need. If anything, you did me a favor. I felt guilty throwing all that away, now i my heart is at peace”
She nods, gets up, thanks her -the first genuine one in years-, and leaves the establishment. She didn't want to bother her even more.
Walking around, surveying the streets, there was no where she could take shelter for the night.
‘the street it is’ she thought with a sigh, but then a door opened up nearby. A young man, early twenties, stomped outside holding a garbage bag and mumbling something under his breath. He seemed…familiar, for some reason. He dumped the bag in the can, and turned to leave but saw her standing, clutching her abdomen. Widening eyes in surprise, he rushed to her.
“Are you okay?” That voice…what a dumb luck, huh?
She never considered herself a lucky person, but to end up right in the town her brother resided in.. hah.
And it seemed the revelation hit him too.
They stared at each other. She was frozen, unsure what to do, how to react, whether to run away or not. He was white as a ghost, as if he’s seen one. She might as well be a ghost, she looks like shit.
“Are you…Cass? Is that you?” he sounded uncertain. It was better to be that way than to take it at face value, less heartbreak. She opened her mouth to speak but couldn't. Instead, she coughed up a blood cloth.
looking up, she saw his worried face. She didn't want to worry him. He had his life, she had hers.
“No, sorry,” she said. ‘It is better this way’ she thought as she walked away, struggling to not limp or wince too hard.
“WAIT!”. She didn't stop, he didn't move. He stayed there, frozen in place, she left, disappearing after a corner.
“Kid! Are you okay?” He was brought back from his trance by the voice of his mentor standing by the door. He couldn't answer though, he couldn't form any coherent sentence.
“Lighting, talk to me” he could hear the man approach, but he couldn't move, couldn't muster a word.
A hand was softly rested on his shoulder, and as Doc whispered a soft “Monty”, his brain reloaded.
“Doc! you- you need to help her! You're a doctor, right? right, yea, please-”
“woah woah, kid, calm down. help who?”
“My sister. or I think she is my sister.. ? She did say no but…” he trailed off then remembered the point “there is this girl, she was wounded, i think she went that way. please, help her” He pointed in the direction.
“Go inside, I'll solve this” Monty nodded, he walked inside slowly, deep in thought, as Doc rushed -as fast as a 60 year old man could- to help the mysterious (why mysterious, she might be his sister) person. He laid on the couch, staring at the ceiling. it didn't make any sense. He thought he was dead. He’s 80%sure it’s her, Cass. But she said she’s not…no, she could be lying. But why would she lie?Does she not want to see me? she did leave but…where has she been? Why is she wounded? Is someone trying to hurt her? kill her?
and with a million questions in his mind, he fell asleep, a small frown on his face.
Meanwhile, Doc found her. A girl, mid twenties, sleeping- though she looks like she fainted, not fell asleep- on the ground, her back against the wall of a building. Her face was troubled, brows furrowed , prominent eye bags, the evident remnants of blood not cleaned properly. Her right hand was clutching her abdomen where blood was slipping through the fingers onto her clothes and the dirt.
It was a sad sight, more so for a doctor like himself, but he’d do what he must. With all the strength he still had in his knees, he tried to help her to her feet. She didn't wake up, clearly too exhausted.
Doc sighed. He knew he didn't have enough strength to help her up, much less take her to the clinic. He needs help. Luckily, he took his phone with him. Dialing the number, he was surprised when Red, their local fireman, answered. He quickly explained the situation and hung up, knowing he could count on him. Maybe the sheriff would have been the more obvious choice, but he asks too many questions. In such circumstances, it’s better to work in silence.
Red came in 5 minutes. He didn't even need doc’s help, because he picked her up bridal style and then followed the doctor to the clinic. Putting her down on the patient bed, doc thanked him, asking him to stay. Help is needed.
Morning came. She woke up groggy. sat up -despite knowing she fell asleep on a street- on the patient bed. The wound didn't hurt that much anymore, it was bearable. She somehow felt cleaner. The grime on her face was gone, the cuts on her fingers were protected by small bandages. Looking around, she found herself in a sterile clinic. It wasn't big, but it seemed proper enough. A man, mid 60’s by his face, was sitting at a desk drinking from a giant coffee mug. He didn't notice her wake up, maybe this was her chance to bolt away.
The moment she put her whole weight on her feet, she crumbled to the ground.
‘great fucking agent i am…cant even stand up properly’ she thought with annoyance. and to her further displease, the man noticed her and rushed to help her up. She had no other choice but to accept the help. Acting like a petulant child would do her no good.
He helped her sit on the bed then took a few steps to give her space.
“glad to see you’re awake” she nodded. could she get away with pretending to be mute? she doesn't feel like talking.
