Chapter Text
Radiator Springs
November 2006
"Paulie."
"Wake up Paulie!"
"Paul Goddammit! Wake up! Wake up!"
"Please son. Wake up."
The dream faded away into the abyss as the loud incessant buzzing of his alarm clock clanged between his ear drums. Rolling over he slammed his hand down hard enough to knock the damn thing off his night stand. Groaning into the still air, Doctor Paul Hudson settled on his back as he rubbed the residual crust out of the corner of his eyes hard enough to see stars. Taking a moment to breathe, he kept his eyes shut as the echo of Smokey's screams still rang in his head.
It was always the same dream.
Pulled straight out of his memories from 1964.
He could barely remember the actual wreck itself.
All he could recall was that he had been winning; and yeah maybe he shouldn't have celebrated in his mind so early.. maybe his ego is what jinxed him in the end.
But this win would have propelled him further in the game into earning his fourth Piston Cup.
The next thing he knew the steering had felt off. It had been subtle, just a small swerve, barely even moving the Hornet.
A rookie probably wouldn't have thought twice about it.
A veteran though.. Paul.. he immediately knew something hadn't been right.
He had just been about to call out attention to the shift to Smokey over the headset when his cars tires began sliding along those fine grains of wet sand.
Poof.. just like that he had been airborne.
He had been too late.
The Hornet caught a lip in the sand.
Paul felt the car flip so many times it had felt like he was suspended up in space. His breath had frozen in fear. Veins filling with ice. Heart beating erratically as he shut his eyes in response to the sudden inertia.
Time moved at a snails pace.
Until it suddenly sped up twice as fast as his car had smashed unforgivingly into the ground, crushing him nearly to death inside. He couldn't see, couldn't hear anything except his own panicked breathing. Paul hadn't even realized he had been screaming until his voice had cracked from the volume. There must have been tons of people surrounding him. Ambulances, medical professionals, fellow racers like Lou and Junior and River. So many urgent whispers and yells of his name.
But for the life of him the only other voice he remembered was the hoarse gruff twang of his crew chief.
Of Smokey's desperate shouts.
Of suddenly gasping awake into the bright sunlight that lit up Fireball Beach. The weather had been perfect that day. It had been a great day for a race.
Until it hadn't been.
He remembered Smokey's bronze eyes filled with worry as he stared in horror at his racer.. at his kid.
And then he remembered no more as the pain pulled him under into a void of black, of nothing.
Groaning to himself, Doc shook off the last vestiges of his dream; staring a hole into his white ceiling. Eyes followed the slow oscillation of his beige fan as he watched the shadows crawl along his walls. A shiver wracked his frame as his lower back muscles began cramping in preparation of the new day.
Goddamn.. but even forty long years after his wreck his body still rebelled against him every time he tried to get himself out of bed in the morning. His crash had given him more than just the typical mental trauma, it had also blessed him with all these lovely physical ailments as well.
Chronic back pain from being nearly crushed by the roll cage, arthritic aching knees, jagged scar along his lower left forearm from when the window had shattered, a slight limp with his left leg from when the steering wheel ricocheted into his thigh muscle - they all plagued him day in and day out.
After years of seeing orthopedic specialists, there had been nothing more they could do for him. Instead he had upwards of four or five different little orange bottles of pills in his bathroom cabinet, all ranging from muscle relaxers to straight up narcotics.
He tried really hard to avoid those unless he was absolutely desperate.
Blinking his dark blue eyes open, he gathered his wits and began counting too ten in his head before heaving himself up in one go to sit on the edge of his bed. Feeling grateful for a moment at the fact he lived alone, he let out of low growl of discomfort as his neck and lower back spasmed at the change in position.
Blindly grabbing his glasses from where the alarm clock had recently sat, he turned his bedside lamp on at the same time he fitted them onto his face, allowing his aging eyes to adjust to the sudden surge of amber light.
Grunting he white knuckled the mattress with strong calloused hands, lifting himself up to an upright standing position. Forgoing the wooden cane leaning near his closet door, he stubbornly limped into the hallway to make his way to the bathroom. His only guest room across the hallway stood empty and dark as ever, the only furniture visible being the stripped full size bed, a bare wooden desk and a moderate sized velvet maroon chaise. Huffing into the silent house, he closed the door to that cavernous room before using the doorknob to help propel him forward.
Entering his bathroom, he reached for the light switch, wincing when dark spots filled his vision once more in response to the abrasive light. Grabbing for the corners of the sink, he squeezed his eyes shut until the little floaters had disappered. Going through the motions of putting toothpaste on his toothbrush, he took a moment to study the same reflection that has stared back at him for as long as he can remember.
He had turned sixty two years old this year.
There had been a time when he didn't think he would even make it past sixteen.. and now here he was going on over thirty some odd years in this little town with the people he had come to call his family. The people who took him in when he had no one, when he turned his back on everything and everyone in his life and tried to start a clean slate.
Sapphire blue eyes showed the passage of time with the abundance of wrinkled skin etching the corners of his eyes. His once thick midnight curly black hair was peppered with gray at the temples. Grabbing his hair gel out of the antique mirror, he took a moment to be thankful his hair was not only still moderately thick but also that he even still had it on his head.
He will never forget the day Sheriff took off his hat and gestured wildly at the fact his hair was thinning in the back so much you could land a plane on his bald spot. Chuckling to himself at the memory he rubbed the gel between his hands before smoothing all the stray curls back into place.
His thick mustache was becoming more gray than black but he tried not to dwell on it much as he trimmed it with his straight razor. Shaving the rest of his stubble off, he dabbed some eucalyptus aftershave on his cheeks and neck before adjusting the chrome rectangular glasses back on the bridge of his nose. Rinsing his face and hands off with some soap, he took one more look at himself in the mirror.
His hands, arms, and face had changed from pale to tan over the years from the constant sun exposure in the hot little Arizona town known as Radiator Springs. There were some days he almost didn't even recognize the man staring back at him. This man was Doctor Hudson, he had a purpose serving this town, helping these people that needed him. He was their Doctor, their Judge, he was someone they had come to rely on.
He had certainly come a long way from the hotshot racer he used to be.
Hud, Paulie, The Fabulous Hudson Hornet had no place in this town.
All the hidden pieces of himself he had used to be were left broken back in Thomasville, along with everyone else he had abandoned in his pain.
Now instead of racing, the Hornet's use only came out when he drove to work every day or did his weekly trip to the grocery store in the town next to Radiator Springs. The dirt track tires had been replaced with normal chrome polished ones. The twin power engine had been modified back to a routine system after he and Smokey had spent a year fixing up the old girl after the wreck.
She was just a regular old classic car now.
As if her history had been erased just as easily as Hud.
Doc tried to pretend it was enough.
Most days he got away with lying to himself.
Sighing to himself, he opened the cabinet once more and chose the little bottle labeled Gabapentin. Shaking a pill out into his hand he knocked it back with some tap water before turning the light off and heading back to his bedroom. It was just after six thirty in the morning and Doc watched as the early pink rays of sunrise approached the vast desert laid out before him. The orange sand glowed like warm copper, giving it an almost ethereal glow.
Goddamn but sunrise was his favorite part of the day. When the distance between the Heavens and Earth seemed almost possible to touch.
Changing into a pair of navy blue dress pants and white long sleeve shirt, he picked up the small red pin Smokey had gifted him after his first Piston Cup win. Running his thumb over the etching on the back, he raised it to his handkerchief pocket and pinned it in place.
Grabbing his shoes for the day, he slowly made his way down the stairs until he reached the kitchen on his main floor. The open concept on the lower floor allowed him to see his kitchen, living room and dining room all in the neighboring areas. Rapping his hands against the cream colored marble counter, he made his way over to his trusty coffee maker.
God bless caffeine.
(You see..
Doc had a routine.
The same one everyday.
He loved having a routine, it allowed him to have control over at least a small chunk of his day. He liked this part of his life now, where he could rely on the routine to never change. It was a constant that he had come to depend on.
He had had enough change and strife and struggle during his younger years. Now he enjoyed the almost dull pattern that made up his mornings and evenings.
He woke up at 6am every day. Got ready for work. Would head downstairs to make a fresh cup of steaming black coffee. Sit down at his oak wooden table while sipping casually on his brew. Maybe he would even try his hand filling out the daily newspapers crossword puzzle. Even if Sheriff was better at filling in the blanks)
After his coffee finished brewing, he walked over and lowered himself into the creaky bamboo chair. Flipping the newspaper open, he attempted to finish the crossword that had stumped him yesterday morning. Sipping the bitter liquid, he stuck his tongue out in concentration as he battled with 20 across.
Something that changes your life _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _.
"Hmm. Well that could be fucking anything." Doc muttered to himself. Taking another gulp, he winced as the coffee burned its way down his throat.
He mentally calculated all the different words that could potentially fit in nine spaces. Tapping the pencil against the side margin, he glanced at his oven clock before cursing under his breath.
6:55am.
Taking a shot in the dark, he rolled his eyes as he hastily scratched in the word TRANSFORM. It seemed to fit with 18 down and 23 across.
He quickly began to gather his belongings as well as his medical files so he could head over to his clinic. Luckily, even though he was running late it was just around the corner from his small and modest two story house. Stopping at Flo's for breakfast was probably ideal as well seeing as his fridge offered no form of nourishment for breakfast except expired yogurt pouches.
Placing his mug into the sink, he turned off the coffee maker before writing a note to himself to go grocery shopping at some point in the next day or so.
Doc had just been about to gather his keys with the little shining bullet charm hanging off his key chain, when a sharp rap sounded against his dark blue door. Freezing in place halfway through his living room, he heard a voice call out with urgency.
"Doc! You in there?"
He sighed as he pinched hard at the bridge of his nose under his glasses.
Doc could already feel a headache brewing in response to that question.
(Hearing a sharp knock on his front door at 7am and listening to Sheriff shout his name was certainly not part of his routine...)
Steeling himself, he marched over to the door and swung it open. The Sheriff had been standing with his arms crossed. Thick bushy mustache twitching with some form of emotion that Doc was not awake enough to decipher yet. Wrinkled gray eyes squinting into the distance as he waited patiently for the man in question. His top hat was lopsided, as if he had been fiddling with it.
Doc casually leaned against the door frame, crossing his forearms as he glared the Sheriff. Clearing his throat with impatience, his early morning intruder slowly spun on his toes to face him.
"About time you answered the door."
"What do you want Michael?"
Sheriff bit his lip as he took a moment to study Doc's face. Michael huffed and raised a brow in response to the glare he was being given. Raising his arms up in surrender he shrugged,
"I know how much you hate to be bothered in the morning, Dr. Grumpy. But something.. may have happened last night that you should see."
That was an odd thing for him to say.. seeing as nothing ever changed in this town.
At least not since the new interstate had been built and Radiator Springs had pretty much been left behind to be forgotten.
He had a bad feeling about this.
Doc felt a chill start inside him that had nothing to do with the small breeze early morning had brought along. His hands trembled with anticipation as he fisted them tightly against his sides.
Biting the inside of his cheek he gestured for Sheriff to get on with it. Waving a hand for Doc to follow him, he began to walk off his porch.
Rolling his eyes towards the heavens, he dragged his feet until he was able to catch up with the fellow old timer. "Come on Mike. I'm already running late this morning. This really couldn't have waited until after I've taken Mater's stitchers out?"
"Well Mater is going to have to reschedule that. I have him busy doing something else right now." Sheriff muttered as he rolled his eyes at Doc.
"Busy doing what?"
"Oooh you'll see soon enough Doc."
Doc really did not like seeing that smirk that was slowly growing on his wrinkled face. His friends eyes held an equal amount of exasperation as well as mirth in their gray depths.
The pair walked down Doc's driveway, turning right as they make their way towards the only main road that runs through their little town.
Enough was enough.
Breathing out a sigh that felt like he was expelling a part of his soul, he reached a hand to Sheriff's shoulder, stopping him on the sidewalk. Frowning at him he responded,
"Come on Mike. Wipe the smirk off your face and tell me what the heck is going on. You're the Sheriff for a reason, so unless someone is hurt or in need of a doctor urgently, then I think you can handle whatever problem is currently preoccupying you. Now if you'll excuse me, I am gonna go open my damn clinic."
Hitching his briefcase up higher on his shoulder, he turned on his heel and started walking towards his clinic.
Only to stop dead at the sight laying before him.
Sapphire eyes grew wide, as he took his glasses off to clean them.. putting them back on though only revealed the same image that he thought had been his overactive imagination. Old age has not been kind to him.
He heard Sheriff slow to a stop beside him. Southern twang spitting out,
"You see what I mean?"
Red tinged Doc's vision as he felt heat crawling up his belly, settling into the cheeks of his face. His hands white knuckled into tight fists. He had always been quick to anger. Smokey and all his racing buddies had always told him he was famous not only for his smart driving skills but also for his "fabulous" temper. Rookies and veterans alike had been treated to his right hook on occasion.
Doc had hoped forty years would break that habit.
Guess not.
Inhaling a long breath through his nose, he turned his head slowly towards Sheriff as he growled out a gruff exclamation,
"What the hell happened to the road?!"
Sheriff didn't so much as flinch as he bore the brunt of Doc's ire. Gray eyes met fiery blue as Sheriff raised his eye brows.
"You see, I came to you because we don't need Doc Hudson today," his friend paused long enough to make it a theatric effect, clapping him on the back he smirked, "we need Judge Hudson this morning."
Doc facepalmed as he heaved another sigh. Shaking his head, he looked once more in disbelief at the completely torn up main road of Radiator Springs.
Well there goes his routine.
Someone was definitely going to be paying the price for this.. one way or another.