Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Paul Hudson let out a soft sigh, relaxing as he gazed out to the road in front of him. The open dirt roads and wide landscapes just outside the sleepy town of Radiator Springs tempted him to kick it into high gear, breaking into speeds above 100 miles per hour. It always felt nostalgic being behind the wheel of the Hornet. Always tempted him back to the life of the racing track. Even if he was just taking the car for a cruise ride to keep the old girl from doing nothing but gathering dust, the call of high speeds and racing trill was always there.

However the memories of his crash and the rejection that followed suit always washed away that temptation soon after he felt it. Which was for the best. The sky was darkening and he was sure that the local Sheriff would not appreciate having to pull over and ticket the local Judge Pro Tempore for speeding. Especially speeding at such high speeds the Hornet would be impounded and his drivers license revoked.

Making a clean U-turn, Paul headed back towards town, if he kept his pace he would be back before Flo closed her diner for the night, with time to spare to chat. As he got closer to the town those plans changed. In the near distance he could see flickering light and rising smoke. A tell-tale sign of a fire. There wasn't enough vegetation to warrant worry about a wide spread fire but it did cause worry about an accident of some sort. Shifting to a high gear, he sped towards the flames.

The sight of the fire left him cold. Just off the side of the road was a Monte Carlo up in flames at its front. Flames slowly engulfed the drivers and fully engulfed the passenger seat. At a safe distance, he didn’t even wait for the Hornet to be completely parked before getting out of the racecar and running up to the scene. No one was in the front of the car, but his heart nearly stopped as he heard the cries of a child over the flickering flames.

With no hesitation and adrenaline pumping through his veins. Paul grabbed the driver’s side door handle and pulled it open. Ignoring the pain in his hands caused by the heated metal, he turned to the backseat. There in the back seat, strapped in a car seat, wrapped in a blanket was a crying child. Paul didn’t bother with unhooking the seat; using a strength he didn't know he had, he gripped the sides of that car seat and pulled. Tearing it from the backseat, he hauled the carrier out of the car.

Running back to the Hornet, Paul let out a string of profanity that he was glad the baby would not be able to remember or repeat. Setting the carrier down, the man tried his best to catch his breath. Only to almost lose it again after he looked down at the child.

The baby was still crying but it was dying down to hiccups and sniffles, but the edge of the blanket had caught fire. Pulling the burning fabric, he threw it to the ground before kicking dirt on it to smother the flames.

Finally free from direct contact with fire, Paul let himself relax, or relax as much as he could. Leaning down he unhooked the child to assess him properly. He noted no immediate signs of smoke inhalation, which was a blessing on its own. No burns either. Picking the kid up, he noticed a folded paper fall to the ground as he lifted the kid to his arms.

Balancing the child with one arm; which wasn't too hard since the kid was clinging to him, he picked up the paper and unfolded it. A certificate of birth greeted him. No name for the kid, no parents listed. Just a blanket official document stating the baby was born a healthy baby boy. Shaking his head, and standing straight Paul folded the paper up again and shoved it in his pocket. He would deal with it later. Looking down at the burnt blanket, he noticed some embroidered text. ‘McQueen’ it read, what he could only assume was the kid’s birthparents last name, unfortunately the first half of the kid’s name had been eaten away by the fire.

Paul’s gaze fell towards the burning Monte Carlo. “Guess I’ll call you Monty for now.” He muttered to the child currently clinging to his chest. Cries finally died down as it rested in Paul’s arms. “Sure hope you don’t mind.”

The child just looked up at him. The dark blue eyes of the older man met the shiny light blue of the child. Paul stroked the blond locks on the kids head back. How someone could leave such a cute kid in a burning car was beyond him. Rummaging for his flip phone, he called Micheal, the local Sheriff. The officer was probably out patrolling now anyways and should be there soon.

Circling around the now fully engulfed by flames car, Paul noticed a second set of tire tracks, seemingly following the Monte Carlo, stopped in one spot before pulling away and off to the main road. Paul’s expression hardened. This was no accident. Someone; maybe even the boy’s own parents themselves, had purposely set that car on fire with the kid inside. This was a two person job minimum since someone had to drive that Monte Carlo out here in the first place. They probably didn’t even realize there was a town nearby. Whoever they were probably just hoped for a quick and easy way with murder. He hoped they would be able to catch whoever left this poor kid to die.

Opening the door to the Hornet, he sat down, rocking Monty gently, soothing him to sleep. His mind is busy brainstorming what to do. This was an infant, by the looks of it, just around two months. He would need baby formula soon, he would need to be cleaned. He needs someone to take him in.

Paul was at a loss. He should just drop Monty off at the hospital in the next town. But he knew it would be months, if not years before Monty would get adopted. If he got adopted, he was well aware the adoption process was long and there were many couples who wouldn't want a child after he passed the infant phase due to vain reasons and would drop the adoption case. The last thing he wanted was for the boy to be raised in the already overcrowded foster care system.

He let out an exasperated groan, was he really thinking about keeping the boy right now? Sure he gave him a quick name so he didn’t have to keep calling him an ‘it’ or ‘the boy’ but that doesn’t mean he could justify keeping the boy like a lost dog. Sure, he was financially stable, had an extra room, and knew the basics of child care due to his time in clinicals for his degree but that still doesn't make him father material.

Looking down at Monty, Paul knew the logical thing to do was give the kid up. Let someone else raise the boy. But there was that other part of him that just screamed to keep the boy. Don’t give him up, he was just what he needed in life. A chance, Monty was something that wasn’t tied to his past as a racer. He was just an innocent child left to die and deserved a chance at a good life. One that Paul could provide.

In the distance police sirens and flashing red and blue lights could be seen coming towards the arson sight. Paul knew he had to really think about this but for now, he would keep Monty safe and sound with him.

Chapter Text

Smokey,

This letter is long overdue and you are a good man for even reading it after how I left things between us. I like to think I matured a bit during these years away from Thomasville, at least I hope I did. We both know that an apology is long overdue. But an apology in writing is nothing compared to an apology in person. I suppose in that way I still lack maturity or I am a coward, not ready to face you in person just yet. That I can apologize for wholeheartedly.

A lot has happened, so much I couldn’t hope to fit it in just one letter so I’ll skip to the most important.

Smokey, in all my years I never thought I would care about anything more than racing. You know how I lived for the tract, the speed, the competition. But a few years ago that changed. I’m a father now Smokey. A father to a bright eyed little boy with more energy then I could ever hope to have. He likes dinosaurs and talking your ears off about any he finds interesting.

I named him Monty. No special reason behind it but convenience at the time. I found him, strapped in a Monte Carlo that was set on fire. No parents, no records, not even three months old and he had no one. Now he has me and probably everyone else in this sleepy town I have called home over these last few years wrapped around his little finger.

That boy has become my whole world. Helped me mature and heal in ways I never thought possible. Made me realize there was more to life than just racing and more to me than I would have ever realized on my own. That’s part of the reason I’m writing you this letter. You have always been family to me Smokey and I never realized before how important family is till Monty came into my life. I want to fix things and I know just one letter isn’t enough to patch things. You might not want to talk to me right now either, but when you are, just call the number I attached below.

Paul Hudson

Calloused hands trembled as tried eyes read through the letter over and over again. As if not believing it was actually there. And the phone number, an actual phone number that would in theory connect him with his former driver in just one call. If Smokey didn’t remember the awful burnt coffee this morning before getting his mail, he would have thought he was still in bed dreaming. 

Part of him wants to pick up the phone and call. Even if it was just to hear Paul’s voice. Just for the proof he was alright. The other part of him still wanted to call, but to swear at the younger man. Curse him to high hell for all the years of worry and grey hairs he caused. 

But he kept coming back to the contents of the letter. Paul had a son? Paul Hudson had a son? The man they all swore would find a way to legalize marrying a sport before actually settling down had a son. Even if obtaining the boy was unconventional. Paul Hudson was raising a small child. Smokey could barely believe it. 

Reaching for the phone, he slowly dialed the number, his thumb hovered over the call button. Swallowing hard, he hit the call. His heart beat fast as he listened to the ring. Finally the line on the other end opened and a familiar voice answered.