Maybe it's the lack of sleep getting to me, but I thought it would be a good idea to post this chapter right along with the fifth. There's just one chapter after this, so be on the lookout for it in a day or two!

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6: Angels

“My, Darrell!” Michael squinted up at his brother from where he lay, strapped to a backboard in the track’s care centre. “You look just like an angel!”

The older Waltrip smirked. “Boy, are you delirious?”

“No!” Michael’s eyes widened and steadied on Darrell’s. “It’s just that light over your head, it’s giving you a halo. EVERYBODY looks like angels.”

Darrell stepped back and looked up. He scowled at the fluorescent light. “You’d think they’d make that softer, for people who HAVE to stare up at it.”

“Nah, that’s okay. I kinda LIKE seeing angels.”

Darrell watched as a paramedic slipped a metal clip over the middle finger of Michael’s right hand, then pumped the cuff of a blood pressure gauge around the left bicep. Green squiggles blipped across a screen behind the gurney. Darrell’s sights slid down the monitor’s stand, back to his brother’s face. His eyes ran over the right side of Michael’s forehead, which was swollen enough to give him a block forehead.

Darrell gestured toward it. “How’s your head feeling?”

“Kinda like it’s not mine.” Michael stretched out his lips. “Just weird, I guess.”

“You’re looking a bit like a caveman!”

“Really?!” Michael exclaimed, then raised his left hand to his head. His fingers traced the bump. “You know, it DOES feel heavier.”

Sliding into a chair by Michael’s head, Darrell sighed. He held his hands out in front of him, palms up and fingers bent, eyeing his fingernails. He glanced over and found his brother looking at the same thing.

Michael smiled. “You know,” he voiced, as his blood pressure beeped out a steady beat. His lips curved into a smile. “I was real happy to see you here today, that you came out to see me race. I was so ready to win it for you too, but…” His face fell. Then he turned away. Making eye contact with his brother again, Michael licked his lips and grimaced. “But there’s always the next race, you know?”

Pursing his lips together, Darrell nodded. “Yeah.”

“It was great to see you though.” Michael grinned. Tears welled up in his eyes, and one slipped down his temple, into his hair.

Darrell grabbed a tissue and wiped his brother’s eyes. “Seems you got some debris in there,” he murmured.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, as Darrell tossed the used tissue into a metal trash bin. “It seems that way, don’t it.”

Leaning back in his seat, Darrell kept his sights on Michael. An air of silence permeated the room, slicing through the blips and beeps of machines, and the shuffling of the paramedic’s shoes as he stepped out of the room. It was a silence that assaulted the brothers, who each averted his gaze from the other.

Darrell knew that now would be the perfect time to cut the tension with a memory from their past; some lively anecdote would surely brighten the mood. But, as Darrell pondered, he realised that the two really didn’t have a past. Rather, they had pasts, separated by sixteen years. Darrell was nearly a man when the baby of his family was born, and moved out of the house when Michael was only a tot. Before his younger brother drove for NASCAR, Darrell would only ever see the boy when Michael came to see him race. Each had a separate history, having little to do with the other’s.

He looked back to his brother, glanced over the younger’s currently Quasimodo features. Swallowed hard. Sad that he hadn’t known Michael. Sadder still, Darrell Waltrip STILL did not know his baby brother.

Michael’s eyes shifted, and met with the other’s. The two sets locked for several seconds as the silence rumbled on.

“Darrell?” At long last, Michael voiced.

“Yeah, Mikey?”

Michael tried to furrow his puffy brow. He met with his body’s resistance and winced. “I, um… I got this itch. It’s right behind my right knee cap, and I can’t reach it. Would you mind scratching it for me?”

Nodding, Darrell jumped out of his seat. He slipped his hand under Michael’s knee like he were playing Jenga, like if he were to tap anything else, Michael would fall apart. He hooked the tops of his fingers beneath the leg and raked against the fire proof fabric with his nails. When Michael flinched, Darrell’s breath caught in his throat.

“That actually tickles!” Michael commented with a grin. Darrell chuckled, and dug his nails just a bit more.

“Yeah,” Michael nodded. “That’s the spot! Thanks!”

“Don’t mention it,” Darrell mumbled, raising a hand and closing his eyes. He sat back in the seat.

The paramedic breezed into the room, and approached the immobilised patient. Looming over Michael, the EMT announced, “Okay, Michael? We’re taking you down to the hospital, to get a CAT scan. It’s just a precaution. I doubt it’ll turn up anything, but it doesn’t hurt to check. Okay?”

“Sure!” Michael smiled up at the ‘angel’, who removed the clip on the younger Waltrip’s finger. The paramedic shut the machine off behind him and released the gurney’s brakes. Then headed toward the swinging doorway.

Darrell watched as the paramedic wheeled Michael halfway out the door, before jumping to his feet. “Wait, hold on a minute,” he requested. He stood, and approached the gurney. Put a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“You take care now,” he voiced, and patted Michael’s shoulder. “You hear?”

“Yes, sir!” Michael smiled, his last words before he was wheeled away. Darrell watched the doors swing on their hinges, as they lost momentum and wobbled to a stop. Then looked toward the heavens. He stared at the fluorescent light overhead, willing himself not to squint. Just let the light shine over him. Just wished he WERE the angel that his brother saw in him.

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A/N: Originally, there was only going to be six chapters, but this one just came out of nowhere. I like it though. I think it adds something important to the fic. What do you think? Please review! Oh, BTW, people really DO look like angels when you have a head injury and are strapped to a gurney! Their features are kinda cloudy too, and everybody looks beautiful. I’m not trying to be deep or anything – it’s true!