Work Text:
TWO YEARS AGO
Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, Belgium
It was the first practice session for the Belgian Grand Prix, halfway completed as Vi drove out the garage for another few laps. It was her first F1 race at this track like it had been for every other race, but she was doing better than she expected in her rookie season. In the driver’s championship, she was 6th. In her two years of F2, she was champion in the latter year, and signed with McLaren to compete in the next F1 championship, no longer a test or reserve driver. She was grateful that McLaren gave her the opportunity to race in the highest classification of motor racing, but like most drivers, to race for Ferrari was the next goal. They would never sign on a rookie; you had to prove yourself to the top teams, like when her friend was promoted to Red Bull from Alpha Tauri. She won the championship that year as well, although it was a close battle. Vi was just thankful her first was McLaren and not Williams who were at the bottom of the grid. She had nothing against them, it would just be hard for her as a rookie to prove herself worthy of driving for a better team when the car was so slow and the drivers struggled to get into the top ten, and by the end of the season, a single figure score only. Some drivers who drove for Williams were from top teams and wanted to stay in the sport. Their old team didn’t want to renew their contract and other teams already negotiated with their drivers, either keeping or replacing.
It was common knowledge that F1 drivers who win with Ferrari become legends for the passionate fans. They were the most well known F1 team, and the whole country is behind them when racing at Monza, wishing their drivers come first and second and nothing less. Vi was determined to do that, already negotiating with Ferrari, but nothing was definite yet. She had high hopes for a contract to be drawn up; it was just a matter of time.
“And radio check,” Vi heard Caitlyn say in her earphones.
“I’m moving up and down, side to side, like a rollercoaster,” she sang.
“I see we’ve picked up that awful music station again.”
“You’re just jealous of my wonderful singing ability,” Vi laughed.
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “There’s some traffic at turn nine, slow down and you might avoid it.”
“Can you check the brakes?” she said to Caitlyn as she continued on the out lap.
“Copy,” Caitlyn answered almost immediately. “Ok, try and take care of the rear brakes,” she added after a few seconds. “Temperature is too high.”
Vi considered that for a few seconds, easing off the throttle. She would have to brake unless she wanted to crash at turn one, she would have to accelerate up to top speed to climb up the hill to turn three. Sighing, she decided to go for it anyway after managing the brakes for the majority of the out lap.
“Caitlyn,” Vi’s voice crackled through the radio.
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want you to panic but I don’t think the brakes are working,” she said quickly before she crashed into the barrier at Eau Rouge, even though she lifted her foot off the accelerator, it didn’t do much to slow the car down. The front wing of the car clipped the barrier before the rest of the car followed, lifting off the ground for a moment due to sudden hit. Vi exhaled long and hard once she came to her senses.
“Are you ok?” Caitlyn watched her on the on-board camera feed from where she was sitting on the McLaren pit wall. She was moving, yet it didn’t settle her nerves much, it could always be a reflex. She needed her to answer. She repeated the question; a habit she had picked up through her time of being a race engineer, but she was repeating it now, not to confirm strategy, but to know if her driver was conscious.
“Yeah,” she breathed heavily. “Sorry,” she added a few seconds later. She pulled herself out the car by the halo, looking at the wreck she caused before getting into the medical car that had just pulled up, walking as normally as she could.
She gritted her teeth as she tried to walk as quickly as possible to her room, but also act like she was just a bit sore, but otherwise ok towards the team. She could only make it to the corridor that led to the paddock from the garage before she fell against the wall, keeping her left leg straight out in front of her and with as little weight on it as possible.
It wasn’t like she crashed a lot, not from driver error, usually someone else’s fault, and she just got caught up as a result. Wrong place, wrong time. She let Caitlyn know as much over the radio. When both adrenaline and speed were high, drivers were left to clarify in post-race interviews that they didn't think a fellow driver was a cunt for changing lines under braking, that it was stressful, especially under race conditions, and things were said in the heat of the moment because drifers were just regular humans, no matter how much fans loved to treat them like legends.
A bad crash in F2 resulted in her breaking an arm, yet she felt safer in an F1 car even if it was faster. Although it seemed wrong, you were safer the faster you drove in an F1 car. It meant the car could operate properly. Everything was so precise, including the driver’s natural ability to make the right decision from the virtually ground level cockpit. The only downside was the increase in media attention, particularly if you were in one of the leading teams, had a championship or two, or if you recently won and as a result completely changed the course of the championship.
Some drivers were lucky and never broke a bone in the name of sport. They escaped with a concussion or a sore neck. And here Vi was, barely clinging to consciousness until her adrenaline levels settled and a sudden wave of agony washed over her as a replacement, and centred in her left leg.
“Vi?”
Vi tried her best to focus her vision on Caitlyn, her visor lifted up now (before she kept it down to shield her eyes from her team as they would know something was wrong). She grinned through the tears and the sweat. “Just tell the medics to put me to sleep.”
Caitlyn wrapped an arm around her as Vi thought about removing her helmet, then decided that it gave her privacy she so craved with it on, so she left it that way.
Vi woke up in a hospital room, confused and sore. Jinx, her F2 race suit sleeves tied around her waist and sponsors of the fireproof undershirt splashed across her torso, was in a chair by her bedside. Even while drowsy, she couldn't mistake her, not in that race suit anyway.
“You’ve been out for nearly two days,” she said. “Mum's here, Caitlyn’s trying to stall her.” She chuckled slightly before taking out her phone and texting Caitlyn. “That bag has some clothes in it if you want to get changed.”
“Who won?” Vi croaked and then cleared her throat, reaching for the bag.
“I did, but your teammate did in the F1,” her sister grinned. “Do you want me to pick you up so you can put those jogging bottoms on?”
Vi said nothing as Jinx swiftly picked her up. “Cheers,” she muttered as she put her back down.
“Sorry, what was that?” the girl smirked, the shit-eating grin that Vi both hated and loved, depending on who it was for.
“You heard me,” she stuffed her hands into her pockets. Jinx didn't get a chance to answer as their mother entered the room, followed by Caitlyn; her mother hugged her first, almost shoving Caitlyn out of the way. Vi winced as she accidently put weight on her left leg, taken aback by the force of the embrace.
“That was quite a fright you gave me,” her mother scolded her, although not completely seriously, more concerned than angry.
Vi’s heart sank. “You saw it?”
“Of course I did. I watch all of the sessions. I just don’t expect you to crash and break a leg.”
“I’m sorry.” It was more of a question than an apology, but she didn’t know what her mother expected her to say. “I guess I’m out for the rest of the season. I’ll stay in Switzerland.”
“You can’t live alone. Even if you didn’t snap your leg in half, you still don’t seem to cope too well.”
“Mum!” she groaned. “I’ll be fine, I’ll have Caitlyn with me.”
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow.
Jinx burst out laughing. “You thought she was just drowsy from the anaesthetic when she said that, didn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Caitlyn shot back.
“Probably. Good thing you have reserve drivers and race engineers then. I’ll visit you after I'm the F2 champion.”
“In a few years then? If your teammate doesn't nick it from you again,” Vi smirked.
“I love my teammate but I will destroy him.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” she laughed.
Geneva, Switzerland
“Have you really not been here before?” Vi asked as they entered her apartment in Switzerland.
“No,” Caitlyn said. “You must’ve dreamt that one.”
Vi said nothing as she contemplated that mistake as she made her way over to the sofa, discarding her crutches. Her personal trainer had nothing to do if he stayed with whatever country F1 would be in, depending on the race, so Vi asked if he could come to Switzerland and help her train. There was no way she was going to allow herself to be out for the rest of the season. She'd give herself a minimum of a month to recover, the surgery should shorten the overall duration of her recovery process. That being said, would it all be worth it if she ended up only returning for the final race of the season? If that happened, wouldn’t she be better off not flying out to Abu Dhabi, and instead giving herself a prolonged winter break and come back in pre-season testing when she knew her leg would be fully healed.
Apart from that, she certainly wasn’t going to let Caitlyn do everything, even if it required her to be drugged up to the eyeballs on pain relief.
It then came to her attention that she probably didn’t know Caitlyn as much as she once believed. At most, they were always with other people, usually the team or else journalists would spark theories about drivers moving teams, make up rivalries and gossip about salaries. The few times that they were alone was in Vi’s driver’s room on track before the next race session started. They considered each other to be friends and colleagues, but that was all they needed to be in the eyes of the media. No matter how much bullshit these so called body language experts in online articles spouted about the way they looked at each other and interacted. They even commented on how the drivers interacted with each other, making a big deal out of nothing; words were said in the middle of a race, it was spur of the moment, of course it didn’t mean they hated each other off-track. Vi was quite friendly with most of the other drivers, most of them were in karting championships together if they were close in age.
It then came to her attention that she probably didn’t know Caitlyn as much as she once believed. At most, they were always with other people, usually the team, or her sister if there was an F2 support race. The few times that they were alone was in Vi’s driver room on track before the next race session started. They considered each other to be friends and colleagues, but that was all they needed to be in the eyes of the media. No matter how much bullshit these so called body language experts in online articles spouted about the way they looked at each other and interacted. They even commented on how the drivers interacted with each other, making a big deal out of nothing; words were said in the middle of a race, it was spur of the moment, of course it didn’t mean they hated each other off-track. Vi was quite friendly with most of the other drivers, most of them were in karting championships together if they were close in age.
-
In just the first three weeks (of which four hours a day was spent training), Vi was beginning to feel better, and she could walk… well, hobble around without her crutches, because she had developed a disdain for them, yet she could only go without them for short distances. They watched the F1 and F2 over the two race weekends, seeing Mylo and Jinx secure a win and then a podium in the latter race. It was strange to watch the races on TV, she never saw the build up because she was preparing for the race. It was exciting though, she understood why the fans liked the new intro song, information about the country and runthrough of the starting grid. She took great amusement in Jinx's facial expressions at the stupid journalist questions. She felt like she was missing out, though. That was the only thing.
She quite liked living with Caitlyn, apart from the one embarrassing moment where she failed to open a jar, and had to joke that her muscles were just for show. Vi also concluded that she should stop wearing short-sleeved shirts, if only she wasn’t so proud of her toned arms (and also the rest of her body, but she found walking around her apartment shirtless, like she usually would, to be inappropriate and rather distracting for Caitlyn as she had seen her stutter and sneak glances).
They sat on the sofa, eating Chinese food as Vi channel-surfed, balancing her box of chow mein on her palm. “Ugh, there’s nothing good on!” she said before punching in the number for Netflix. “You can pick something,” she passed the remote to Caitlyn.
They ended up watching a mediocre film that neither had seen before, and neither would repeat that experience. It killed the time; 90 minutes of Vi’s life that she could never get back, and maybe she should've just gone on her F1 simulator instead, because it would've been equally painful.
“Do you think I’ll be racing in before the season ends?”
“As long as it’s not in Suzuka,” Caitlyn answered. “Maybe for the US race.”
“That’s nearly two months,” Vi looked over at her, almost scared. “I can't be off for two months.”
“You can’t rush your recovery, you know that as well as I do. You’ll just prolong it if you go back too soon.”
Vi opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed it.
“You won’t be able to apply enough pressure to brake, what if you crash? It’s not just you on the track. It’s too dangerous.”
Vi frowned, knowing that she was right, and that there wasn't any point in arguing. “I’ll be going back home for my step-dad's birthday. I would visit anyway, Mum says that he is getting worse. She doesn't think he has much time left.” That eventuality suddenly hit Vi as she fully turned her body to Caitlyn instead of just her head. “What if he's dying now? People often die in their sleep.”
Caitlyn hugged her to stop her from rambling and her mind from wandering.
Vi’s hands gripped Caitlyn’s hoodie until her knuckles were white as if she was a life-line. Her grip suddenly loosened as she lifted her cheek off Caitlyn’s shoulder to look at her. “Do you think many drivers are like this with their race engineer?” she joked, laughing.
“I wouldn't think so,” Caitlyn smiled slightly.
“Is that bad?”
“You said it yourself, the majority of the drivers and engineers are straight white men. This sport needs diversity and representation.”
“Yeah,” Vi slowly agreed. She cleared her throat, “Well, I’m going to bed. Neck training really tires you out,” she said as she got up, awkwardly walking to her room. It was only now did she realise the size of her apartment. Everything seemed so far now that she could barely walk without taking a large swig from a vodka bottle beforehand.
She was used to living alone as well, be it in her own apartment or just a hotel room. Sometimes her adoptive brothers or Jinx would stay, but that was different, they were like family. There was just something… odd about living with Caitlyn for the time being. She just couldn’t put her finger on it. There was a certain type of tension between them that she could sense, and she just didn’t know if she particularly liked it or not.
Surrey, England
“Oh, look at my baby taking her first steps!”
“Mum! You're acting like I’ve been in a car accident!” Vi whined as she entered the door of her childhood home. She paused. “Oh, wait…”
“Actually, Vi, I need a word with you. In the kitchen,” her mother said after tending to her husband, whose coughing fit only just remained under control by laughing at his daughter’s stupidity.
After a brief conversation with Vander, Vi simply followed her into the kitchen, shutting the door behind her. She looked at her mother, whose face told her this would be a serious conversation. She was already dreading it. Did she find out something? Wait, what had she done recently that may upset her? She couldn’t think of anything.
“I was online, and a certain article got my attention. Now, you are my daughter and I just want the truth. Do you like Caitlyn?”
On the inside, Vi panicked, feeling like she was a teenager again. “Oh my God, Mum! I do not like Caitlyn!”
“Are you sure?”
“Mum!” she whined, pleading her to stop.
“Then why are you blushing so badly?”
“Ugh, did you read one of those fucking body language analysis articles?”
“But those people know what they are talking about,” she insisted.
“Ok, fine. Hypothetically, ” she paused to stress that word even more, “if I did like Caitlyn. What am I supposed to do? She’s my race engineer! Imagine how awkward that would be if she turned me down.”
“Didn’t you read the article, it also analysed Caitlyn’s body language towards you, and I’m just saying, it’s in your favour. I’m also saying that it would do you good to get over your last girlfriend.”
“What do you want me to do? Ask her for a pint?”
“You’ve lived with her for a month, Vi. I don’t know what you’re waiting for.”
Vi followed her eyes and begrudgingly agreed as she walked back out, the excuse to her step-dad being she needed to go and buy a present for him.
She had told Caitlyn she would just drop in quickly, drop off bags and say hello. The taxi driver from the airport wouldn’t wait for that, so the only other option was to drive into town themselves.
She didn’t drive her mother’s car much, but she was a professional racing driver, she could drive any car she climbed into. Caitlyn didn’t seem to pay much attention to her, scrolling through her phone instead. Vi put the car into first gear, moving the clutch and accelerator until she felt a bite, pushing the handbrake down.
And then stalled.
Caitlyn immediately cracked up beside her. Vi furiously blushed as she quickly depressed the clutch, and rather wanted to join it down in the dark of the footwell.
“Caitlyn!” Vi dared to look at her once she felt like her face wasn't red anymore.
Expecting them to have left by now, her mother joined them on the driveway. “Having some trouble, dear?” she leaned down to the window. Vi recognised her tone of voice, she was teasing her so she must have watched her F1 driver daughter stall her car on level ground. Maybe she’d forgive her if there was an incline. Probably not.
“No, everything's fine!” she snapped, yet she couldn't take her own annoyance seriously as she began to laugh. “Manual road cars are so different to F1, and my own car is automatic.”
“Probably because it’s a Ferrari,” Caitlyn smiled.
“If I drove anything else, I’d be breaking my contract,” she joked.
“I didn’t think you signed with Ferrari yet?”
“I know they want me.”
“Well, not for a while yet,” her mother jumped in as her child glared at her.
“Don’t you have to look after Vander?”
“Watch it,” she warned.
In response, Vi pressed the button that rolled the window up, a smirk cracking as she couldn't resist.
Caitlyn laughed again when Vi quickly reacted to a red light going out, and the green one coming on. “You can calm down,” she said. “It’s just one red light, not five in a row,” she chuckled.
“It’s a habit,” Vi answered as she pulled into a car park. “That didn't hurt as much as I thought,” she stated.
“How many pain killers did you take?”
“Enough.”
While it would have been the smarter choice to let Caitlyn drive, they both knew that Vi wouldn't be able to cope with that. There was just something about racing drivers and being a passenger that just didn't mix.
“Do you fancy a pint?” Vi asked as they walked along the high street. They really hadn’t spent much time in town since Vi had gone into the first shop on the street and bought something for Vander for his birthday in a few days time.
“Sure,” Caitlyn smiled.
They sat at the corner table of the pub. Vi glanced at Caitlyn before smiling to herself. She couldn't keep doing this for much longer, but she didn't want to admit that the body language analysis article might be warping her mind. What if it was just making her feel like she had a chance, when really she didn’t.
Fuck. She didn't like this. Should she just confess and get it over with? On second thought, that seemed like an awful idea. Her heart was beating faster than usual, but she wasn’t about to let her anxiety overwhelm her.
They mostly spoke about racing and about her fellow F1 drivers, the upcoming races. They didn't speak much about themselves or their relationship that was purely.. platonic. Well, that was something of a lie, but neither wanted to face the truth, it was too early to tell. Neither had made a move or suggested anything.
By the time Vi was about to tell Caitlyn what she truly thought of their relationship - or perhaps it was the pint of beer that she had quickly drank out of nerves affecting her brain - her phone rang. She was hesitant in answering it because she knew what it would be (and if it wasn’t, she knew it would be something similar). It didn’t make it any easier.
Circuit of the Americas, Texas
She was medically cleared to race again in the US Grand Prix, due to the mass amount of pain relief she had taken moments before. Both her and Caitlyn being absent, in the eyes of the press, had to have a connection, despite the fact neither had said anything. Vi had spotted a Twitter thread dedicated to that theory, which wasn't really a theory if it was true, but she wouldn't let them know that.
She’d just do her best, racing with her broken leg. No matter how much it had healed, all that progress was about to be undone, especially in qualifying on Saturday, later in the day. She was determined to do well for Vander. Vi had arrived at the hospital with just enough time to talk to him for the last time. Mylo, Jinx and Claggor came for the funeral, on a week where they weren’t racing. It was Caitlyn who comforted her the most, and she was truly beginning to realise they didn’t have the normal driver-race engineer relationship. Your race engineer was not supposed to cup your face while you broke down in tears, their thumb wiping away your tears.
Still, they had a job to do, and that was to race. No driver would ever miss a race unless they were badly injured because that was more likely to happen than if they were feeling sick. Racing would be a good distraction from grief, but it would be more effective if the muscles in her leg didn’t feel like they were burning every time she stamped on the brake pedal. She didn’t come out much during the Friday practice sessions. She couldn’t face it. Getting into Q2 would be good enough for her.
“How was that?” she asked Caitlyn after crossing the line.
“65% brake pressure. Still in the 45s for lap time.”
“How much time left?”
“20 minutes. Try not to push yourself too hard, save it for Quali.”
“But I need to know if I can brake hard enough,” Vi tried not to complain. After completing another flying lap, she asked Caitlyn again.
“1:37s,” she answered.
“I went flat out this time.”
“And I’m guessing your pain killers started working, or you don’t care much for your leg,” Caitlyn smiled slightly.
“I just hope there’s no drug test coming up,” Vi laughed. “I’ll be well annoyed if I get banned.”
“What would you do then?” It was a genuine question, but one that Vi probably didn’t have an answer to.
“What, if I get banned from racing? I don’t know. I’ve spent more years in a racing car than out of one. That’s weird to think about.”
“You lot drive before you can walk,” Caitlyn chuckled.
“And it pays off. I’ll be the youngest World Champion in the history of this sport, you’ll see.”
“Not with that leg.”
“Caitlyn!” Vi exclaimed, trying not to find amusement in that.
“Sorry, just came out,” she laughed.
“Sure, it did,” Vi considered as she entered the pit lane. The mechanics pushed her car into the garage. She climbed out of the car. She handed her helmet to a mechanic who was just standing around doing nothing, before sauntering over to Caitlyn. “I need to talk to you.”
“Are you sure you’re alright to race?” Caitlyn turned back, slowing down her pace so the driver could catch up.
“Yes!” She insisted, “I’m just sweating because it’s so hot while driving, it’s not tears.”
Caitlyn looked at her, doubtfully, yet she said nothing, silently wrapping an arm around her shoulder so she didn’t crash into the wall.
“I guess I shouldn’t get my hopes up about winning tomorrow,” she joked. “Wouldn’t want to be too optimistic.”
“Anything could happen,” Caitlyn reminded her.
“So you say every race when I get too stressed.”
“It’s your rookie season, you’re allowed to make mistakes and it’s my job to calm you down.”
“Do you worry about me more than the average race engineer?” Vi asked with thinking. Even if she didn't fully process what she said until afterwards.
“I suppose. But then again, I don’t see many drivers who want to be joined at the hip with their engineer.”
Vi looked away and blushed. “That’s because they probably have girlfriends,” she said in a quiet voice that she could barely hear herself. She distracted herself by tugging off the sleeves of her race suit to tie around her waist. She ran a hand through her short pink hair and sighed. Caitlyn was lucky; being in three layers, one of which was thick, all made of synthetic fabric, in Texas, was unbearable. Being in all of that, plus a helmet, in the cockpit of an F1, sitting directly in front of an engine, was even worse. The drivers learnt to deal with it, even if it still didn't help much, they would still lose some weight through sweating; for Vi, some of that was nerves and the adrenaline kicking in. There was one time where McLaren wanted to keep track of their drivers’ vital signs during a race, except that was promptly stopped after one race because the rate their hearts reached was too concerning, too worrying to monitor. Well, that was what Vi believed anyway, of course they said something else. She didn't really notice how fast her heart would beat, she couldn't really hear herself think in a race, she could hear Caitlyn every so often on the radio, but apart from that she tried to block everything else out. Of course, she could hear the engine, and feel vibrations of graining tyres, every bump in the track as they do drive virtually laying down, very close to the track.
“It hurts so fucking much.” She laughed hysterically through the pain, forearm covering her eyes as she laid on the sofa in her driver's room.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I really don’t think you can race on Sunday,” Caitlyn told her as she looked at her, her chest rising and falling as she tried to ignore the pain.
Vi suddenly sat up. “I will.”
“What if you crash?”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“The drivers with bad cars crash, this McLaren isn’t. I am not a bad driver either,” Vi looked up at Caitlyn, that familiar determined look in her steel grey eyes warned Caitlyn.
“Just.. don’t do anything stupid,” Caitlyn said.
Vi said nothing as Caitlyn left, laying back down and staring at the ceiling, trying to not let her emotions get the better of her.
Vi slipped her gloved hand under the visor to wipe her tears. “For fuck’s sake,” she mumbled. She was so close to coming third, she would have come third if she didn’t abort the overtake attempt to prevent a collision on the last lap. She pressed and held the radio button on the steering wheel as she drove the cool down lap. “I’m sorry.”
“You did good. Don’t stress about it,” Caitlyn answered. “P7 to P4 is still a good race, considering you had to pit twice because of the lap 5 incident.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t get a penalty for changing lines under braking, it broke my front wing and locked up the tyres.”
“We’ll bring it up with the stewards. When you get to parc fermé, kill the engine, wait 5 seconds and then turn the car off completely.”
“Copy,” Vi answered, shortly before pulling up, switching the car off and climbing out. After being weighed (if she was less than the required amount, including the weight of the car, she would be disqualified), she walked down to the garages to avoid the post-race interviews for as long as possible. As she was, the Ferrari team principal called after her, asking to talk to her.
“How would you like to drive for Ferrari next year? James is retiring, you see.”
“What?” In disbelief, Vi said her thoughts out loud. “Sorry, I mean, yeah, I’d love to!”
“I’ll be in touch about drawing up a contract, I think one of the commentators wants you for an interview,” he said, subtly gesturing behind Vi.
“Oh, right,” she smiled, trying to control her utter joy. “See you around,” she said as she walked over to the commentator to give a brief overview of how her race went. It could have gone better, but she did her best, and it was surprisingly good with her broken leg. It was throbbing now, the medication wearing away. They did a good job at masking her pain, so she stamped on the brake at the usual pressure required. No doubt she would pay for that later on. She just hoped it would be worth it, even if she had lost places in the World Drivers’ Championship due to missing out on so many races. That stung. She was in 11th place now. There didn’t seem much point in coming back as all anyone cared about would be the final results of the season. As long as she was negotiating a contract with Ferrari, she felt confident about her future in F1. McLaren only signed her for one year and she was in Ferrari’s driver academy anyway so there never really was a home for her at McLaren. She also had a good idea of who would be replacing her there next season; if Ianthe won the Formula 2 championship, being a McLaren junior driver, they would most certainly be promoted there. Vi had more experience in F1 than them, so she wasn’t too worried about racing them. Ferrari were a top team anyway and McLaren were probably the best team out of the midfield. It would be the aggressive Red Bull driver who she had to worry about, possibly having to fight for the championship with.
She couldn’t wait for the interview to be over, and she was quick to leave so she could find Caitlyn. The mass amount of interviews they did was ridiculous, in her opinion. Thursday was media day, so there was no escape. They would interview you if they caught you after practice, before or after qualifying, sometimes both, before (if you were unlucky and they grabbed you again when you were on your way to your car) and after the race. The team had daily debriefs as well, so that was more talking about the car, even if you’ve just said the same thing to some journalist. That was the other thing, magazine interviews, and photoshoots. Vi was sick of looking at herself as it was, the drivers had names and pictures of them all around the track and online. These track photographers would just come up and take pictures as they were walking to the garages, so Vi normally wore sunglasses as a precaution.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Vi said as Caitlyn squashed the butt of her cigarette with her shoe. It was part of the paddock that never had any cameras nearby. She had stopped at her drivers’ room to change out of her race suit.
“Seems like every race weekend I turn into a chain smoker,” she commented, chuckling softly.
“I miss not smoking. I’d get absolutely hammered if I got caught.” Vi bit her lower lip as Caitlyn offered her a cigarette. “I really shouldn’t,” she told her as she reached out.
Caitlyn drew her hand back. “I thought you said you shouldn’t,” she teased.
“I’ll just buy some before I go to the hotel.”
Vi’s eyes lit up and she grinned as Caitlyn handed her the small tin. She tipped her head back and sighed. “It’s been so fucking long,” she exhaled the smoke.
“You smoked when we were in Switzerland, no?”
“You encouraged me. You’re a very bad influence, Caitlyn,” Vi tutted. “Oh, by the way, I’m in contract talks with Ferrari!” she grinned.
“That’s great,” Caitlyn smiled, although she sounded sad, as if she would miss her, miss her silly antics during practice, the sound of her heavy breathing if she forgot to switch off the radio button, miss calming her down. Her heart fluttered when she heard her speak.
“Will you continue to be my engineer? I’ve heard team radios from Ferrari, and their race engineers seem pretty useless,” she almost begged.
“Yes.”
Vi immediately hugged her. “I’m sorry about earlier. I’m just frustrated with myself. The crash was my fault, I should’ve listened to you.”
“You worry far too much.”
“I don’t want to lose you.” She was going to leave that sentence on it’s own, then realised what it sounded like, so quickly added: “As an engineer, you’re just best.” Vi wanted to hit herself at how stupid that sounded.
“I’m the only F1 engineer you’ve ever had, Vi,” Caitlyn pointed out.
Vi panicked and stuttered. “Yeah, well, you know, I… I’ve got nothing,” she gave in. “What are you doing later?”
“Same as you, back to the hotel.”
Vi realised that that was also a stupid thing to say. She tried not to panic about it.
“You’re really not making this any easier for me, are you?”
“No,” Caitlyn grinned while Vi blushed.
Vi hastily inhaled on her cigarette. “Do you want to go out.. like for dinner or something, I don’t know.”
“Sounds lovely.”
“You are having way too much fun with this!” she complained as she finished her cigarette.
Caitlyn took her hand, beginning to walk through the paddock to the car park so they could drive back to the hotel. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Yes, it was, I’m mortified,” she quickly answered.
It was at that moment that it was definitely confirmed to Vi that they did not have a regular driver-engineer relationship, but she was ok with that. So far, it might be the happiest day of her life, although she tried not to show it. She hadn’t gotten her first F1 podium yet, so it wouldn’t be replaced any time soon.
This was all she needed. And she was beyond pleased with it.