Chapter Text
The drifter living in the hills should’ve been long gone days ago. After all, isn’t that what drifters were supposed to do? Drift from town to town, never really lingering long in one place or another. Only, it had been weeks and the stranger had yet to show any signs of leaving.
Lightning supposed he wasn’t really a stranger now. The drifter had become more of an… odd acquaintance lately. There was just something intriguing about the man that Lightning couldn’t put his finger on.
However, just because he found the man interesting didn’t mean he wanted to spend his whole summer traipsing through the hills and ranges around Radiator Springs.
He tore a bur out of his jeans and glanced at his friend. “Remind me again why we keep going up here?”
“‘Cause it’s interesting!” Mater replied, adjusting his cap.
“Yeah, okay, but—ugh!” Lightning fought another bush, trying in vain to keep up with someone who had spent most of his life traversing these groves. “We’re probably annoying him. Imagine if you were peacefully trying to go about your days and people kept barging in on you.”
“Aw, he likes it when we come to see ‘im.” Mater winked. “I can tell.”
“How? He never smiles when we’re there.” Ticking off his points on his fingers didn’t seem to do much to change Mater’s mind. “He’s always so gruff and short with us, and every time, he tells us not to come back. Yet, for some reason, here I am again, following you through this hell of a trail.”
“Huh. Yeah, sounds to me like you need to rethink your life, McQueen.”
“Thanks, Mater. Real helpful. Do you know how many t-shirts I’ve torn coming back here?”
“Shows what you know,” Mater said, grinning wide. “That’s why you’re supposed to wear the same shirt every time.”
“Yeah? Then you still have a ruined shirt.”
“But only one ruined shirt. Besides,” Mater continued easily, as if they’d never changed topics in the first place, “if we didn’t come, who else is he supposed to tell his stories to?”
“Maybe he should just write a book.”
“What are you doin’ here again?” The man’s voice startled the two out of their argument.
A strange wave of Deja Vu washed over Lightning as he made the same response he had the last time. And the time before that. And before that. “Just wandering around.”
“Huh. Y’all gotta find better things to do with your time.” The stranger poked at his firepit with the most crooked stick Lightning had ever seen. “How are ya?”
Mater stepped in this time. “Oh, same old, same old. How’re you?”
And, here it comes…
Lightning could’ve mouthed the words along with him as the man shook his head. “Very poorly these last few days. Sun won’t stop shinin’ in my eyes and them dang birds won’t stop squawkin’ in my ears. Now, sit down and shut up. I have somethin’ to tell ya.”
Mater had already claimed his seat on the fallen log by the time Lightning finally made his way over.
So… maybe Mater was right. The man certainly had interesting qualities—if not borderline senile ones at times. And it sure beat painting the house with Doc.
Knowing him, he’ll probably wait till you get back to make sure you get “a chance to help out.”
The drifter leaned in close. “I’ve been workin’ on something the last few months here that I figure I better show ya.”
Considering the stranger had only been in the hills for a few weeks, Lightning doubted the truth of this statement. Just like he had many of the other things that had come out of the man’s mouth.
“You just listen close to ol’ Rusty and you’ll have the time of your life.”
Every time, he gave them a different nickname, leaving Lightning to wonder if the man even remembered his given name. Some part of Lightning felt that this man had been called all these nicknames at some point in his life and was just trying to keep them in rotation.
“I first got the idea down in Atlanta,” Rusty went on, tending to the lunch he had cooking over the fire, “when I was manning my cousin’s fillin’ station. It was the middle of Prohibition, ya see, and the only way to get good liquor was to make your own.”
Lightning found his head nodding despite himself. So far, “Rusty” had fought in World War II twice, shook hands with Abraham Lincoln before he became president, witnessed the turn of three centuries, accidentally helped Scott Joplin compose the Entertainer, and served under Robert E. Lee during the Civil War just so he could shoot him in the back to get revenge on Lee for killing his dog.
Yeah. Right.
They were awful big claims coming from a man who didn’t look to be more than sixty-five. In short, the drifter gave a whole new meaning to the song “I Was Born About Ten Thousand Years Ago.”
“Folks down there were makin’ these curly-qued little machines that could give ya better liquor than most stores. It knocks your socks off, so I figured I better give it try before I die. I can show it to ya, if you want. All depends on if you fellas can keep a secret.”
“‘Course, we can!” Mater exclaimed. “Ain’t no one more trustworthy in all the county than us.”
Rusty just narrowed his eyes. “Nah. You two don’t look like the secret-keeping type.”
“Trust me,” Lightning said, flashing his most winning smile, “we can keep a secret.”
“Yeah!” Mater agreed. “One time, I kept so many secrets that I exploded and flew straight up to the moon, where I stayed for a few weeks until I fell right back down here.”
Lightning blinked for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or roll his eyes. “Yeah, right. Mater, that did not happen.”
This earned him a light punch to the shoulder. “You don’t remember nothin’, do ya? You was there, too!”
“What?”
Rusty gave them one last scrutinizing look. “All right, then. Come on.” Standing, he beckoned them to follow, before disappearing into the bushes behind his tent.
Mater shot his friend a quick glance and a shrug, then scrambled after Rusty, leaving Lightning alone in the clearing.
“Mater! Come on, we don’t know what’s back there and…” Lightning threw his hands in the air. “And I guess that’s where we’re going. Hey, wait for me!”
In all honesty, Lightning would’ve preferred another tall tale. At least those were interesting—and predictable, to a degree.
What am I saying? Nothing that comes out of that man’s mouth is predictable except his hellos and goodbyes.
The contraption he saw when he burst through the shrubbery looked like something fresh out of the movies. He recognized it immediately.
“A still?”
Rusty crossed his arms and puffed his chest. “Built her myself. She makes the best moonshine this side of the Mississippi.”
“But,” Lightning said, standing beside Mater, “isn’t moonshine illegal?”
“Only if it’s not done right, sonny, and only sometimes and in certain places. Now, you two fellas can be my first customers!”
“Oh, well,” Lightning let out a short chuckle, “we didn’t bring any money.”
“Don’t need money.” Rusty brushed past them, fiddling around with the monstrous contraption. “Not when I’m given’ it to ya for free. A ‘thanks a bunch’ for comin’ to see me so often. Gets lonely up here.”
“Well, shoot!” Mater reached for mismatched cups in Rusty’s hands. “Sounds good to me!”
“Mater!” Lightning grabbed his friend’s wrist, voice low. “Whatever happened to not accepting candy from strangers?”
“Come on, McQueen. I’ve had moonshine lots of times! Best thing you’ll ever taste. Besides, Rusty ain’t a stranger.”
That… made sense, in a Mater sort of way, and against his better judgment, Lightning found his palms cupped around a glass of his own.
“Bet ya didn’t know,” Rusty began, heaving a sigh and sucking down a gulp of hard-earned liquor, “that moonshine’s responsible for car racin’ in America?”
Lightning’s ears perked up before he could even take a sip. “Wait, really?”
“Sure as I’m standing here! It all got started on account of them bootleggers trying to outrun the cops, then realizin’ their cars were fast enough to race.”
“Wow…” With a newfound appreciation, Lightning took a drink, trying not to wince as the strong taste attacked his tongue and burned down his throat.
“Thought that might pique your interest.” Rusty grinned and refilled his cup. “You don’t think I didn’t know who ya were all this time, did you?”
He and Mater had never really introduced themselves and Lightning had basked in the anonymity of their trips through the woods.
“Aw, don’t worry, sonny. Racin’s not really my thing, so I don’t care a lick who ya are. All I care is what y’all think about my creation.”
“It’s good,” Lightning admitted at the same time that Mater said, “Tastes a bit off.”
“Off? Son, you’re off your rocker if you don’t think this is good!” Rusty filled another cup and thrust it at Mater. “Here! Try some more. Maybe it’ll grow on ya.”
“But I ain’t even finished this one,” Mater protested, hands now full.
Maybe Mater did have a point. Maybe it did taste a little off, but even though he trusted his friend’s judgment—especially when it came to this, for some reason—Lightning couldn’t taste anything wrong with it, other than the way it seemed to be devouring him from the inside out.
Taking another gulp was the only way to see if Mater was right.
Huh. “Doesn’t taste off to me.”
Rusty smirked at Mater. “See? Your friend likes it.”
“Yeah, but maybe that’s ‘cause he’s never had moonshine before.” Mater turned to him then, leaning over and whispering, “You ain’t never had moonshine before, did ya?”
Lightning gave a slight shake of his head, downing half the cup. Trying to prove a point or something, McQueen?
“See?” Mater shot back at Rusty. “He don’t even know what he’s supposed to be tastin’ and what he’s not.”
Mack had always said he was a lightweight, but Lightning couldn’t remember ever feeling so affected so fast by a single glass of alcohol.
Rusty squinted at him. “You okay, sonny?”
Lightning just shook his head. “What’s in this stuff?”
“Probably more than what’s supposed to be.” That was Mater, but matching voices to faces was becoming increasingly difficult. The next thing he knew, someone had decided to smack the cup out of his hand.
“Hey!” Rusty? Probably… Lightning wiped a hand across his eyes, hoping to clear his swimming vision. “That’s good moonshine your wastin’!”
“That?” As Mater spoke, Lightning felt an arm slip under his shoulders. “That’s the worst moonshine I done ever tasted!”
“Well, then you two ornery critters can just git out of here! And don’t come back!”
“All right,” Mater replied, “then I guess that means we’ll see ya next weekend!”
Even to Lightning, whose legs were becoming useless as his coordination slipped steadily down the drain, Mater’s own gait felt wobbly at best.
How? They hadn’t had that much, and it’d tasted okay. Sort of normal, like whiskey. Sorta.
Okay, maybe not really…
“I knew it felt off,” Mater muttered and Lightning tightened his grip on his friend’s shoulder as they tripped through a patch of shrubs. “Shouldn't have gotten this wasted that fast.”
“Mack says I’mma lightweight, though,” Lightning offered, gritting his teeth against the dizziness. “Doc agrees.”
“Still.” Mater shook his head. “Shouldn’t’ve happened like that…”
How they got down to Mater’s tow truck, Lightning couldn’t recall. He just remembered Mater hesitating, fingers gripping the keys.
“Think I’m okay to drive?”
Massaging his eyes did nothing to help anything, yet Lightning couldn’t stop. “I don’t care. Just drive."
The plan was to crash at Mater’s place until Lightning sobered up enough to go home. As he collapsed on the threadbare couch, however, Lightning decided it would be the perfect place to die.
“Wake me up when the Ghost Light returns,” he moaned, throwing an arm over his face.
Mater’s voice echoed from far away, even though he sat in the recliner just across the room. “Thought you said there weren’t no such thing as the Ghost Light?”
“Exactly.”
Doc was going to kill him, anyway. Might as well just die in peace right here and save us both the pain…
When someone shook him out of the throes of sleep, Lightning’s bleary blue eyes met Mater’s worried brown ones.
“How you feelin’?”
Lightning swallowed a groan. “Like Death rejected me.”
“Well, ya better start feelin’ fine ‘cause it’s getting dark out there and Doc’s gonna start wonderin’ where ya are…”
“I’m an adult, Mater. I can go home whenever I want. He probably fell asleep in his chair, anyway.”
“Maybe. But he did text you a couple times.”
“Okay!” Lightning shot up, eyes wide. “I’m awake! Where’s my phon—Ow!” Clutching his head only made the war drums that had begun beating within his skull worse.
“Yeah, ya probably should take it slow. I don’t think that moonshine was made right…”
“You think?”
“Want me to drive ya home?”
Lightning shook his head, accepting Mater’s steadying arm as he pried himself off the couch. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Mater.”
“Hey, anytime, buddy.”
At the door, Lightning almost turned back. His legs still felt off and the headache was getting worse. But it’s too early for a hangover…
The texts from Doc burning on his phone pushed him onto the street.
He tried to send out a reply, even though he couldn’t really read the jumbled words, and ended up erasing line after line of gibberish, but figured it was time to put the phone away when his head narrowly missed a power line pole.
Looking back, most of the walk home was a blur, except for a quick encounter with Fillmore that Lightning couldn’t remember, and that one meeting with the sheriff…
“Evening,” the sheriff greeted as Lightning walked by.
As tempted as he was to just keep going, he managed a smile. “Evening.”
And everything was fine. Everything was normal.
Until he stumbled, tripping over practically nothing—or a dip in the sidewalk, he can’t remember—and felt the sheriff’s hands latch onto his arms.
“Whoa, there, son! Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” Lightning replied, dusting himself off for no reason. Stupid hands… “Sorry about that. I don’t know what…”
He trailed off, his excuse perishing under the sheriff’s suddenly skeptical stare. “You been drinkin’ tonight?”
A no sat on the tip of his tongue, but his shoulders took the lead instead, offering a small shrug. “Yeah…? Hey, cut that out!” The sheriff shining a light in his face was now on his list of the Most Annoying Things Ever.
Sheriff’s brows knit together in more than just confusion. “Where? In case you haven’t noticed ‘till now, there’s a severe lack of bars and nightclubs in Radiator Springs.”
“Uh… Mater has a stash.”
This earned him an arched brow. “Since when?”
Just stop talking. “Since now…?”
“Uh huh…” Great. Now he doesn’t even believe you. He’ll never believe anything you say again. Nice job, McQueen. “You need help getting home?”
“Oh, come on! Look, I’m not drunk, okay? And I’m not hungover or anything like that. I’m just exhausted and I’m trying to cross the street without a police escort!”
Sheriff remained unfazed by this outburst, which felt a little anticlimactic. Him and Doc. They’re always so unaffected. Takes the satisfaction out of everything.
Though he looked as if it were the last thing he wanted to do, the sheriff let Lightning go.
“Just be careful, son.”
“Yeah,” Lightning muttered under his breath as he put some distance between him and Sheriff, “because crossing the street at dusk in Radiator Springs is sooo dangerous. Hey!”
He didn’t see the car, yet somehow managed to dodge out of the way in time as the vehicle swerved to the left. A meek smile and a wave at the sheriff was the best Lightning could offer before spinning on his heel—bad idea because his head was screaming at him now—and finishing the trek to Doc’s.
Opening the door that night was one of the most nerve-wracking experiences of Lightning’s short life. Though he kept reminding himself that it was fine— you’re an adult. You’re fine —the look on the sheriff’s face had already been enough for one night.
He could only imagine what sort of expressions Doc would send his way…
Slipping upstairs turned out to be a piece of cake, especially after Lightning heard Doc’s light snoring in the living room.
He allowed himself a small smirk. Called it.
For some reason, Mater’s worn couch had felt more comfortable than his own bed, which seemed hell-bent on swallowing him alive. That, and his headache didn’t mix well with his lumpy pillow. He could see the ibuprofens in his mind’s eye—second cupboard to the right, third shelf—but to return to the lower level would be to risk facing off with Doc.
Lightning glared at his phone, taking another shot at reading Doc’s texts. Something about moving practice tomorrow to the afternoon because Flo had a last-minute check-up scheduled.
Good. Lightning might not even be alive then, anyway. That works out better for both of us.
Sleep claimed him quicker than he’d anticipated. One thing he hadn’t counted on was being stabbed awake in the middle of the night by stomach pains.
Right. Because the headache wasn’t nearly enough.
Curling into a ball helped ease the pain for a while, but soon he was stumbling into the bathroom, his body doing its best to purge the offensive alcohol once and for all. After what felt like an eternity spent leaning against the bathroom wall, Lightning wandered back into the hall. At the moment, the couch seemed more appealing, so he grabbed a few painkillers and a blanket before crashing in the living room.
Sleep came slower this time. Much slower. Lightning remembered hearing Sarge’s bugle pull at the edge of his mind as he drifted off at last.
It had to have only been a minute—one blessed minute of sleep—when someone shook him awake. His first thought was Mater… but that can’t be right…
Pain slammed into his head with a vengeance. He’d suffered hangovers before, but Lightning couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like this.
Doc’s voice floated through the pain. “What’d I tell you about hangovers, kid?”
“Uh…” Darkness shrouded his vision, eating away at his blurry picture of Doc hovering over him. “I dunno.”
“They’re never worth it. Sheriff told me about last night. Where’d you get that much alcohol?”
“I knew it! I knew he was gonna rat me out.”
“Doesn’t matter. You brought this on yourself. Now, if this was a race day, you’d still have to go out on the track.”
“What?” Whining didn’t help, per se, but it was satisfying. “Whatever happened to not racing when you’re sick?”
“Hangovers caused by stupidity don’t count, rookie.” Lightning didn’t notice Doc had left his side until the lights snapped on, sucking in a hiss through his clenched teeth. “Which means practice is still on for this afternoon. You got my texts?”
He rubbed at his eyes until he was certain he’d worn them down completely. “Yeah.”
“Good.” The severe lack of sympathy was something Lightning supposed he should’ve seen coming. He would’ve had more time to dwell on it if his headache wasn’t trying to take his mind captive. “Then why don’t you start getting ready? In your condition, it’s probably gonna take longer than usual.”
Tumbling off the couch was not his preferred method of travel, but Lightning somehow found himself lying face-first on the floor all the same. If his eyes would just do their job…
“Did you take anything for the headache?” Doc called from inside the kitchen.
Lightning mumbled an affirmative, disentangling the blanket from his legs.
Curse you, Rusty, he seethed as he pulled himself off the floor. May you rot in—
Though his coordination still felt a bit off, the last thing Lightning expected was to collide with the floor lamp on his way to the kitchen. Grabbling for purchase only brought the lamp down along with him in a burst of light and pain.
Well, at least now he could lie down for a few more seconds…
“What on earth… What happened?” He couldn’t see Doc but felt strong arms shove the lamp to the side before easing him into a sitting position.
“Sorry,” Lightning replied. “Tripped, I guess.”
He didn’t realize how hard he was rubbing at his eyes until he felt Doc pull his hand away.
“All right, Lightning.” Concern seeped through the cracks of Doc’s stern facade. “Spill it. What happened?”
“I told you! I tripped because I couldn’t see the stupid lamp!”
I couldn’t… The cruel truth finally hit him. I couldn’t… He couldn’t see. Blinking only seemed to make the blurry cloud of gray worse.
“No, I’m talking about yesterday.”
“Oh… Uh, Doc?” He swallowed. “You ever heard about… ‘bout drifters living in the hills and selling moonshine?” Lightning squeezed his eyes shut again, though opening them still made no difference. “Well, this one was sorta just giving it away. I should’ve listened to Mater. He said it tasted off…”
Doc bit out a curse.
I’m going to be blind forever. It was an oddly calming thought. Maybe when the headache faded, he’d regain the ability to be a little more concerned, but for now, melting into Doc’s arms seemed like the best course of action.
Doc’s frantic shaking of his shoulder told him it was not. “Lightning? Lightning!”
Funny, he realized, how even when you couldn’t see a person, you could still see them. Doc’s face was twisted in worry—and, Lightning guessed, he wasn’t trying very hard to hide it.
“Still here,” came his breathy answer. Breathing never used to be this hard…
“How many fingers am I holding up?” Motion flashed in front of Lightning’s face, but he was hard-pressed to tell the difference between it and the rest of his hazy world.
“Which ones?”
Another curse told him maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say.
“How long ago did the symptoms start?” His mentor’s ‘doctor tone’ had always set Lightning on edge. It never meant good things.
“Uh, symptoms?” Easing his hand out of Doc’s, Lightning took another swipe at his eyes out of habit. “I thought this was just, like, a really bad hangover.”
“Lightning, when?”
Okay, so maybe this was a little more serious than he’d initially thought.
“The headache started yesterday, I guess, but late afternoon? Or close to evening… But everything else started in the middle of the night, I think.”
The world shifted as Doc guided him back to the couch.
“Sorry about the lamp,” he felt the need to say.
“Don’t worry about it,” Doc replied, poking around and doing a quick examination of Lightning’s eyes before taking his pulse. “Just stay there, do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear. Like, really loud…”
“That’s part of the actual hangover,” Doc informed him. “Now, stay there. I need to get something from the office.”
Now? “Wait, what’s the other stuff, then?” But Doc was already out the door. The slam went right through Lightning’s head like a bullet.
Thanks a lot, Doc.
His stomach chose that moment to continue its rebellion against him.
If he ever got his hands on that good-for-nothing drifter…
“Backwards” by Rascal Flatts pierced the air, rattling his phone and his mind. He tried reaching for it, feeling around the couch for the offensive little box. When he couldn’t find it, however, his arms flew back to his stomach and waited for the call to die out.
He’d talk to Mater some other time, when he wasn’t feeling so awful.
Wonder how Mater’s doing…
Probably fine. He didn’t drink as much as you did, idiot.
Hey, I didn’t drink that much…
The slamming door jerked Lightning awake just as Mater’s ringtone filtered through the air once more. This time, it came to a sudden stop, and he guessed Doc had put it on silent.
“All right.” Lightning felt Doc’s presence kneeling beside him. “Hold still.”
“Whoa, wait!” But Doc’s hold on his arm was too strong for Lightning to pull away. “What are you gonna do?”
“You need an ethanol injection,” Doc explained, wiping a cool patch of antiseptic over Lightning’s skin. “So, hold still.”
Lightning froze. A what…?
“Doc… W-What’s wrong with me?”
The pinch on his arm hurt more than it should’ve. Maybe that’s just another symptom?
Or maybe you’re just a wuss.
“Methanol poisoning,” came Doc’s response as he stretched a bandaid over Lightning’s skin. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice about accepting drinks from strangers. What were you even thinking? ”
“But he’s not a stranger,” Lightning argued. “He’s been up there for weeks. You know, he fought in the Civil War.”
“Moonshine like that one you described is illegal for a reason. You know that, right?”
He’d thought he did.
Even the vibrations from his phone aggravated his headache.
Doc answered this time, and before Lightning could warn his friend that he was currently on speaker, Mater’s voice filled the room.
“McQueen! How’re ya feeling? Was Doc angry?”
“Yes,” Doc said. “Very.”
“Oh… Uh, howdy there, Doc! How’re you?”
“Save it, Mater. What happened yesterday?”
“Oh, you know. Just wandering through the nature trails and stuff…”
Lightning swallowed a groan. “Just tell him, Mater. He always knows.”
“Well, if he already knows, why do I have ta—?”
“Mater.” Doc’s tone rang sharp and stern. “I’d choose my next words carefully if I were you.”
“Oh…” The pause gave Lightning time to scratch at his bandaid—and for Doc to push his hand off of it. “Well, you see, there’s this drifter up in the hills and he was makin’ moonshine, and seein’ as I’ve had moonshine before—and it was real good—I thought it’d be a cool experience…”
As Mater filled Doc in on the details, Lightning floated in and out of sleep, his dozing interrupted when Doc decided to go poking around his eyes again.
“It might take a while for your vision to return,” he explained. “Mater, do you have any symptoms?”
“Nah, just this old headache. But then, I didn’t drink as much as McQueen.”
“Wait,” Lightning said, doing everything in his power to fight the fatigue, “how long are we talking here?”
Doc didn’t reply right away, and if nothing else about the situation scared Lightning, that did.
“Hopefully hours,” he said at last, voice tight. “Maybe days.”
“Days? But what about practice?”
“Son, I’m not letting you near a car until you pass every eye examination known to man. And Mater, you’re going to meet me and the sheriff at Flo’s. Then, we’re going to take a little trip into the hills. I think it’s about time I get a look at this drifter of yours.”
“Maybe we should wait till Lightning’s better, and—”
“Oh no,” Lightning interjected. “Don’t wait on account of me.”
He could just picture Doc’s unamused frown. “You would say that. Even after you’ve been poisoned within an inch of your life.”
“Oh, come on, Doc. It’s not like I was gonna die.”
Doc’s silence spoke volumes.
“... Right? Doc?”
“Flo’s at twelve o’clock, Mater.”
“Uh, sure. Whatever you say, Doc.”
“Here,” Doc said, ending the call. “I’m putting this on the floor. I’m going to monitor the ethanol injection for a bit, and after that, I’ll help Flo. Then, I’ll see about your ‘friend’ in the hills. Call me or Sally if anything starts to feel worse. In the meantime, try to get some rest.”
“Doc…” Reaching out was a gamble, but somehow, Lightning managed to latch onto Doc’s arm. “I wasn’t… I mean, I wouldn’t have…”
Saying the word made it too real. It was easier for his sarcastic mind to contemplate death when he thought the worst that would happen was a bad hangover.
“Moonshine distilled the wrong way,” Doc began after a moment, “creates methanol, which can kill you if you drink enough of it.”
It was a sobering thought, one that made Lightning’s stomach flip on its side.
No wonder Doc had sounded so worried.
“Sorry,” he whispered, swallowing down the rising nausea. Because that felt like the right thing to say. “I’m sorry.”
“What done is done, rookie,” came Doc’s gentle reply. “Just focus on getting better.”
As sleep pulled at his mind once more, Lightning allowed himself a few seconds to wonder how much further he would’ve had to walk before he reached Death’s door that day.