#carstober

There had been a collision with another racer on the Circuit of the Americas track.

Whether it was intentional or not, in the brief moment she had before she found her and her car rolling over at beyond rapid speeds after quickly losing control of the wheel, Isabella didn’t know. And she couldn’t really find herself to care as she found herself frozen in the air.

She’d felt her heart seize and drop to the pit of her stomach in an instant- the feeling causing her body to grow numb under the gravity of the situation.

She’d known it would likely happen eventually. A crash. And she’d witnessed many in her time, both before and after she started racing.

She’d even been there when one of her dads had gotten into one of his own back in 2017- McQueen. She was seven at the time.

She was there when they’d rushed him to the hospital, the first to curl up by his side when they began to accept visitors as he lay in bed unconscious for what seemed like ages- waiting as her papà, Francesco, rushed over from wherever he’d been in Europe; attending his own Grand Prix Season.

That was the year he’d retired, his career already having begun to come to a natural close. But the event had triggered his need to be there for his family, only having gone back to win one last time after both her and Lightning had assured him he’d be ok. They both had wanted him to go out with one final triumph at the very end of the season before he came home to them…

Huh.

So this is what it was like. To have your life flash before your eyes, then.

The memories were cascading over her mind as they tried to soothe the one thought still prickling her, causing an even more urgent panic to arise in her. An almost primal fear threatening to engulf her completely.

It had filled her then with her dad as it did now, even if she knew it couldn’t be true.

Miles Axelrod.

She knew he had been killed years ago for his grand orchestration that was the World Grand Prix, but she couldn’t help it. Even if she’d been far too young to remember the exact details of watching each racer blow up, she could still remember the way the Lemons had cheered around her at each one. It was so overbearing, the memory of yelling that rattled her body at the time. She couldn’t seem to scrub away the colors of the tv they watched as each racer was engulfed in a raging red and orange because of that damned camera.

What if he’d finally found her? What if he was his doing as a way to take her away from everything and everyone she’d ever loved?

The panic in her heart increased as she felt herself grow more and more numb in the milliseconds passing. Her lungs seemed to fail her and the piercing fear was unbearable.

She couldn’t be taken away from them.

She loved them.

She loved them so much for all they’d done for her. How they’d made her life worth living despite its ugly start. She couldn’t let go of that. Not now, not ever.

Just then, she heard both their familiar voices begin to call out in a frantic yell in her earpiece, but she could barely process it as she was still stuck in her paralyzing fear. Still stuck midair.

It was strange, the way that even if they too were panicked by the situation, she found herself calming just the slightest bit by their presence in what she assumed to be her final moments.

God, there was so much she wanted to tell them. Just how much they meant to her, how they’d saved her, and how they deserved a proper goodbye.

But even stuck like this, seconds away from darkness she knew she had to say something.

So as she saw the ground grow closer, and she barely found the strength to say it in her state, but she needed them to hear her say it if this turned out to be the end.

She finally felt the tears that had been rolling down as she choked out the words,

“I love you guys.”

Goodbye.

And then the world turned to black as time finally unfroze and her car crashed into the ground.

…

It had been McQueen’s turn to crew chief that day, with Fran right there next to him giving his own input here and there.

Both of them got protective of their girl during her races, regardless if they knew she was one of the best. Especially after McQueen’s own crash, the last thing he ever wanted her to experience was the same thing. Her getting hurt in any way. But it was also because of the way his mind drifted off to that one fateful day in the garage with Doc.

She had such a love for the sport, even if it had kept him and Francesco on other sides of the world for a while, it was truly something that was just in her blood. He couldn’t bear the thought of her getting sidelined from her biggest passion after all that pain just for someone new to step into her spot. The way Doc had been. The way he himself had almost been.

Which is why when Isa and the other racer had been fighting over second position on the course, the closeness of the two vehicles had put McQueen in that familiar spot of full alert as he watched from the pits.

That’s why when he saw the other racer practically slam into her car, causing her to go tumbling across the track, everything stopped.

He felt his throat seize up as time seemed to slow in that moment.

Memories flashed by in an instant of when Finn had first introduced him and the young girl after he’d found her on one of the oil rigs a few months after the World Grand Prix. She’d been so scared, hidden behind the spy’s leg as they stood in the cool air of Doc’s museum. It had ran so long to get her trust him because she was so scared that he’d hurt her, her arms bandaged from being grabbed to hard by Miles.

Memories of how once she got settled in she began to shine like a star in the night sky, how vibrant of a person she became. So colorful and over expressive was her personality. So mischievous, so bold, so sweet, so perfect. And yet one to lock away her fear of it meant not worrying those she loved.

He began to let out an eir piercing yell in that moment, tears already streaming down his face as he heard a similar scream shatter the air right next to him.

He couldn’t imagine how scared she must feel in that moment, knowing better than anyone who she might think was behind this even if it was just a simple collision. She’d been beyond terrified for the same reason when he’d been in his own crash.

Which is why it broke him when he heard one more voice join the fear stricken harmony for just a second, one last fleeting moment-

“I love you guys.”

The world felt truly silent after that as her car came to a stop. And for only a moment longer was McQueen still frozen in place until he felt himself take off running towards her as medics rushed to get in the scene.

He barely felt his own feet take off running as he was still trying to process the whole situation.

He needed to get her. Right now.

But he felt arms pull him back, multiple arms. The arms of his team- his family- trying to get him to act rationally even if they knew what he was feeling in that moment.

Wrong.

They had no idea what kind of pain he was in right now. Not even close.

Their words barely passed through his ears as he let out more incoherent yells of desperation, thrashing harshly in their hold. It was almost animalistic, the way he was reacting right then.

“YOU HAVE TO LET ME SEE HER!” He cried.

“You have to- please you have to let me see my daughter… PLEASE!”

The tears that covered his face were scorching hot, almost enough for it to actually hurt.

This was a nightmare- no, this was hell. Being held back by the people he’d grown to love as they tried to keep him from doing something rash as his kid could be dying in that moment.

It was too bad for them that Francesco had a similar reaction.

He felt some of those hands leave him to go help stop the Italian, only realizing now that Sarge had taken after the man by himself first.

Now only Luigi, Guido, and Mater held him back now. And by using all of his strength, he finally broke free and broke back into that sprint.

He felt them call his name as he passed Francesco and dodged all the cameramen and staff coming to report on the tragedy as well as stop him from going any further.

But he wouldn’t let them.

He had to get to her.

He just had to.

…

Francesco remembered when he’d first been introduced to Isa as well.

How hard it’d been to grapple with the fact he was a father- it had been so sudden, her discovery. Did he want this? He still barely knew McQueen, what were they to do about taking care of her if they lived on other sides of the world? Did he even want to take care of her?

Yet when he found himself looking down at the little girl, taking in the way she looked at him cautiously with those little brown eyes of her, he knew he would do everything in his power to be the best father he could ever be for her. For Isa.

He took off running as well, except for him it was immediate.

The second he’d heard the mic cut out his legs started gunning down the side of the track as fast as physically possible, the adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream giving him the push he needed to get to her.

But he too met resistance, from Sarge and soon all those from Radiator Springs were pulling him back now as McQueen shot past him. Reporters came flooding to the pits as well as body guards trying to stop the blonde American from getting any closer to the scene.

It was no use. He wasn’t going to get through.

He felt his muscles loosen as he slowly stopped trying to resist everyone’s hold on him. Lights and cameras surrounded his clouded vision, loud voices of everyone bombarded his ears.

He was finally frozen. Barely able to take anything in anymore as grief consumed him.

Key word: barely.

The only thing he was able to process was the sheer amount of publicity the event was receiving. The way people fought to get the devastation on Francesco’s face captured perfectly, the way they tracked the quick movements of McQueen as he tried his hardest to dash across the road to get to Isa, and the way they lingered on her totaled car, trying to find ways to make it seem as damaged as possible- this was a story for them. Not reality.

They all saw this as their moments to shine- in the presence of another person’s life in danger they saw it as an opportunity to leach the money off the assholes who found this shit entertaining. The same assholes who used this to define the art that came with racing.

It was beyond sickening. Maddening. And it made Francesco’s blood boil. A dangerous thing for a helpless man with a short fuse.

Francesco’s eyes locked onto one of the many cameramen before him, who was getting dangerously closer than the others dared. He was spouting bunches of questions he couldn’t be bothered to listen to as he grew closer to his breaking point.

A fool he was, to forget exactly how violent Francesco could get.

But soon enough, the man was reminded of that fact as Fran’s rage overtook him full force and he tackled the man, sending them both toppling to the ground as he quickly straddled the cameraman’s hips while he grasped his esophagus. Fuck him. Fuck them all and fuck the scandal he subconsciously knew this would start. It didn’t matter right now and he couldn’t be bothered to care at all.

Gasps then filled the air around him at the sudden attack, but once again, Francesco didn’t register it all nor care.

Hot tears rolled down his face as his fingers tightened around the camera man's throat as all the emotions he’d been feeling finally crashed into him full force- pure anger, terror, and agony. Who gave him- gave ANY of them- the right to watch and record his entire world falling apart for the sake of their own sick entertainment. He'd kill them. He'd kill them all. He'd kill anyone who didn't turn off their screens right now and minded their own fucking business.

He felt a heavy weight slam into him then, knocking him off the cameraman as he was then pinned to the ground by a group of body guards came in to clear the area.

And thus he was helpless once more, and as he was unable to do anything he let out a scratchy scream as the agony settled in place of his anger- a sound that was sure to affect his vocal cords from his strained and rough it was and its volume-

Francesco’s tears pooled around his face on the ground as he saw McQueen had been caught in a similar situation.

Fine.

They may be able to hold them down for now, but once they were free again, they’d rush to Isa with full force and never let her go again. That was, if she was even still-

No. She was fine. She’d be ok. She had to be.

For now, as the two lay pinned on the scratchy surface of the ground, paying the price of their rash decisions driven by pure parental instincts, all they could hope and perhaps even pray for was that their little girl would be ok.

~~~

Ty for reading :)))