Chapter Text
Six years old, somewhere in Switzerland
Max would have thought that after years of driving as a driver, the stress would be a distant memory. Especially when he was supposed to just enjoy his retirement, without the sometimes overwhelming pressure on his shoulders. However, there, in front of this building more than imposing in his mind, he was dying of fright. Even the soft hand, flayed by the years of sludge, could not even anchor it anymore. If the look of the other had never been a problem, at this very moment, the five times world champion of F1, dreaded that of a small toddler who could upset their life.
"Max, you're crushing my hand."
Yet Charles did nothing to unhook their linked fingers, simply accentuating the gentle circles he made with the pad of his thumb on his husband's hand. It was a movement that had always anchored him, as he too was petrified of what would happen next when they finally entered that children's home. But he never deviated from why they were here, which would allow him to move forward no matter what towards their destination. The future of better days for a little being already so flayed by life, was at stake and it became his mount in this ordeal, as when he had clung to his dream of world champion with Ferrari. After the rain, comes the good weather.
"Sorry schatje."
As if to ease the pain and thus make amends, the former Red Bull driver gently kissed their intertwined hands with his lips. This made the Monegasque smile tenderly, amused and at the same time admiring how much his love for this person never ran out of steam. Even planted in the middle of the sidewalk, a few meters from their destiny, facing a bed of daisies that had not been mowed for a while, Charles was still admiring the immeasurable love he had for this man. Thank God he had finally removed his blinders, blinded by a childish rivalry that had carried him for so many years, but which could have made him lose so much if he had continued in this blindness. Charles was no longer afraid to say, after years away from motorsport, that he would never have gotten where he is without Max. All his life, the former Monegasque driver, deep in his unconscious, had been looking for the recognition of this rival as a small jewel buried under the mines.
They were ready, even though his husband's blue stunts seemed only strewn with fear, Charles knew that the love they had felt when they read this child's file, was perceptible just behind. Closing his eyes for a moment, he could still look into Max's eyes, to read the certainty that he held the story of their future child in his fingers. Charles thought he had only seen this assurance when Max declared himself world champion before he had even entered F1. And even then, he's not sure it wasn't tinged with a hint of uncertainty. Charles knew that when they looked at this child, the obvious would explode in a million little fireworks. It was there.
"It's okay, mon amour (my love). They are waiting for us. We'll be late if we don't get in now," quickly running her hand through the Dutchman's hair, hoping to deflect the thoughts that must have been racing through her mind. We just have to get to know each other, nothing more. It doesn't mean anything. He doesn't know that it might be for adoption, it's less violent for the child if the current doesn't work out.
Charles stroked her cheek with his free hand, to accentuate the assurance of his words.
"They're used to it. Remember how we checked everything about this place, to make sure everything was okay?"
Max nodded, confirming those words, but it only eased his fears for a few seconds. Charles pulled him by the hand, a smile on his lips, like an adult forcing his child to go to his first day of school.
The sound of their sneakers echoed across the asphalt floor to the glass doorway, with Max's racing heart close to bursting out of his ribcage at any moment. My God, he had driven cars going over 350km/h, he had crashed and hit for years with teammates who could have had him meet the reaper before his time. Yet, it was meeting his maybe son that gave him the biggest adrenaline and anxiety rush. What an irony of life. Before Charles, he had never imagined himself as a full-fledged parent, conditioning himself to a societal norm of one day having a child when the chapter of his life as a driver was finally closed. But Max had never been totally sure.
Then, it had only taken a moment between Charles and his nephew, two years after their marriage, for something to click in a corner of his mind. It was the admiration in the eyes of his sister's son that had changed everything. That wonder in the eyes of every toddler who meets Charles' forest eyes. Then, as with every meeting between the two, it had been impossible to unhook this child from Charles, the nervous breakdown that followed when they had to leave had been a heartbreaker for both.
However, the difference between this meeting and the previous one, had been the tears clumping in the eyes of the Monegasque. At that moment, guilt had clumped in the hollow of Max's heart, not being able to fulfill the dreamed wish of his companion as simply as he would like. Max knew how complicated the steps were, the false hopes, the interminable wait like hell, the disturbing and even inappropriate questions.
In fact, the idea of being a father was not the most disturbing, on the contrary, it became very attractive when he remembered how, with Charles, absolutely everything became surmountable. However, this did not prevent him from waiting months before the blow fell. It was after another blow to Max's heart, when Charles had taken that photo with a little fan, if the tears and that dreamy, melancholy look had stopped at the children of their respective families, it was expanding further. This had become bad, Max thought, he could already imagine the arguments accumulating to arrive at the dissolution of their marriage. It was a prediction that he refuted, so he took his courage in both hands to deal with his fear and this thing that haunted him since his childhood. So here we are, sometime later before what had been his greatest fears.
Charles presenting them to the secretary, gently brought him back to earth. To plunge back into his old memories allowed him to remember his goal, to find the confidence that had drifted along the way. Usually, it was him who took the lead in a risky situation, who took the time to reassure the intrusive thoughts of his half. However, today the roles were reversed showing how much of a pillar both were in pivotal moments.
"The social worker will see you before the visit. I'll let you go into the waiting room, straight down the hallway and it will be on your left."
The fake smile of politeness strained Max's shoulders a little, but he didn't have time to think about it any longer, following Charles who was already heading to the destination. He already missed their intertwined hands. His anchorage disappeared, tensed him a little more. But displaying their affection was still too precarious in this world, to dare a simple gesture like holding hands. It wasn't as if they weren't used to practicing it for several years as Formula 1 drivers.
The hallway was lined with several doors on the sides, like you would find in any company that had an administration. No one could almost imagine that the building housed a place as emotionally taxing as a home. Besides, Max wondered, where were all those children who should be screaming and heckling all the time. The looping questions were more noticeable than he would like.
Sitting on a chair more than uncomfortable in this austere room painted of an off-white aged by time, Charles leaned towards him, making himself touch their thighs as well as their shoulders. He took between his hands the two cheeks of Max, to make meet the blue of the sea in front of the green forest which composed their glance. Contemplative of the love that Charles carried to him, without a word pronounced, Max hardly felt the pad of his thumb trying to erase the interrogations which marked his forehead. The smile of Charles clearly illuminated the room, much too dull for the taste of Max, despite his tastes for the sobriety. It made him want to pass his hand in the brown hair which had been meticulously combed for this important day, in order to give again this unruly aspect which tenderized Max the morning with the alarm clock when the first rays of the sun perceived the sky.
He smiled in turn, like a ripple effect, uncontrollable in the face of so much attention. Before he could think about it any longer, a faint voice emerged from the corner of the room, making the two men who had been caught in the act raise their heads at the speed of lightning. It sounded like two teenagers who had just been surprised by their parents during a snogging session. Then, upon seeing the caller, their legs went up like automatons.
"Hello, you must be Charles and Max, the sweetness of the smile surprised both parties, I'm glad to see that you were able to come safely. I am Ms. Keller, the social worker who will be shadowing you and Esteban today."
At first glance, it was the square of a very dark brown that framed this woman's face that struck Max's eye, making him fidget due to the unease in this anesthetized room. Her look was rather neutral. Very professional. Indeed, her whisky eyes betrayed a certain hope, but very well camouflaged by this smile of form and by her very relaxed dress. Strange observation for Max who felt at the same time reassured, but always on his guard as for what was going to follow.
A handshake later brought them into a very classical office. Two chairs almost like the one in the waiting room, made of a very worn black leather, and rather old, were facing a dark wooden desk on which a computer rested, not very modern either. The window gave a view of a cherry tree in bloom, resting on what looked like a courtyard with another building adjacent. However, Max could not grasp the complexity of the place from where he was. He just sat there, following Charles' movements as he had done since the beginning of the day. He was his reflection now or his shadow, as he chose.
"So, I don't know if you've had time to read the whole file I sent you, I know it's very long and complex. But this child is... how shall I put it... considered 'difficult'," her red manicured fingers mimed quotation marks, "He is not mean or problematic, in a violent sense. However, he has been returned many times by his various foster families. It has been a year since he was unfortunately considered an orphan. And four months he's been with us."
The lady paused as if to allow time to digest the information that had been said. Max already did not like where this was leading them. He was not afraid of this child. However, the words used were inappropriate to talk about a seven-year-old child, who only asked for a little more attention and affection, something he had missed as a child. He sat back in his chair, trying to stop himself from retorting, especially when Charles squeezed his knee to calm him down.
"First, the language barrier was very complicated, because Esteban speaks mostly French. He understands English, but speaking it is a bit more complicated. Even though he improves quickly with time," she says with a smile as if recalling a specific memory. "That's why, when I saw your profile about Charles being fluent in French, I thought it would be a good match. It will be easier for him to communicate."
Here was the look of hope again, even if Max struggled to identify this woman, the care she had for these children was sincerely perceptible. This reassured him.
"I want you to be aware of all the information about him. Esteban reacts easily to loud noises; he can sometimes be very quiet. Again, maybe it's just the language barrier that explains this. But you should also know that the traumas he has had to endure will not be erased with affection alone. He will most certainly need to continue his psychological journey, which has already begun here." Her look did not seem to leave room for any objection.
"It was marked in the file. We know about the journey that awaits us, if the adoption can be successful," Charles smiled politely, squeezing Max's forearm with his left hand to show that they were on the same wavelength. The Dutchman just nodded like a puppet, not really knowing what to say to all the information. Max didn't like talking, he preferred actions. They had always had more symbolism, in his eyes. Finally, maybe he would understand better than anyone this boy who apparently didn't like words.
She nodded, seeming at once pensive.
"I... If the, or maybe the next few appointments go well, I'll do anything to support your case. I refuse to let this boy continue to grow up here with all that has happened to him." Max couldn't help his amazement at the wide-eyed look on his face as the woman's eyes sparkled. The tears could have come at any moment. Charles, on the other hand, seemed just as perplexed and baffled as he was.
The questions and important information came thick and fast, only increasing their excitement. They needed to put a face to a name. Several minutes passed, leaving her more to unpack her speech than them questioning the child's past.
"Well, I think we've come full circle. I think it's time I took you to see Esteban," she declared, rolling the chair from her desk back to stand.
It was time. The lights came on as they wandered the halls. Crossing to that famous building visible from the window above. Passing through this large courtyard that could accommodate several dozen children, announced the purring engine before the final blow. As they walked, their hands gently clasped to show their mutual support. The smiles on everyone's faces showed their enthusiasm and eagerness to get to that crucial moment, more than a grand-prix victory.
"This is the building where the children live. We have children of all ages, they are separated according to their age. The teenagers are in one specific wing and the younger children in another." Those hands illustrated her explanations with quick movements.
Noises of acquiescence emanated from the couple, showing their interest in turn.
"We try to give them as much care as possible, especially psychological care. These children can be easily upset by a little thing. Generally, not all institutions can afford to pay for monthly psychological follow-up. Yet, without it, many children end up even more traumatized than they were when they arrived."
Charles received a stitch in his heart at these words. He had reached his limit, as he gently took his little finger from his husband. Squeezing it to keep the emotions from overwhelming him. He was proud that he was able to find an institution that managed to do a little better than the others, to bring a little more comfort to these children.
Max responded by adding his wedding ring on his ring finger to their linked little fingers. The image was very strange, but Max didn't care. He was even rather proud to see Charles display a gesture like that, in an environment that was not conducive to it. The past had shown his reluctance to do too much in public, for fear of revealing a relationship just beginning at a time that could have destroyed them. However, it was over. They were going to adopt a little being today. The sounds of children horsing around could be heard behind their backs as they reached a large hall. He must have had the dormitories a little further on or a place of recreation. They continued forward to find themselves a little quieter at the edge of a hallway.
Mrs. Keller, finally stopped in front of a double wooden door, with blurred glass preventing them from seeing anything.
"So, here we are in front of the game room. I asked that exceptionally it is only you and Esteban, to facilitate the meeting."
Finally, the lights turned green to begin the chaotic start that symbolizes every race of the season. The opening of the gate was like slow motion in Max's mind.
Then there he was, a little six-year-old toddler clutching a Spider-Man stuffed animal barely bigger than his head to his chest. He was playing with little blue cars, softening Max's heart even more. His gaze was fixed on the movement of the wheels as they vibrated against the floor, on which he rolled them. The room was filled with all kinds of games, from large stuffed animals as big as Max, to puzzles stacked in open cabinets and crates filled with dolls or stuffed animals. The walls were lined with very childish designs, a bit kitschy for Max's taste, because of the letters of the alphabet that stretched all over the room and the creepy men according to him. Besides, a doubtful grimace had made itself on his forehead.
He was crouching, in faded blue jeans with a small black sweater a little too big for him, but he was no less endearing. Max turned his gaze to Charles, still in the doorway, the revelation had gotten stuck in their eyes, and it was impossible to escape it. Their corners formed a respective smile, it was like looking in a mirror to confirm the obvious that had been lost at times since this chaotic journey. Max or Charles had not felt this with any child, without words spoken or looks exchanged with him, they still had the certainty that their first child was facing them. And they were going to fight for it.
"I'll let you introduce yourself; I think it will be better for him. If there is any problem I will not be far away." And so, the social worker left at those words.
Then, in a softness that Max had little known as a child, Charles caressed his wrist and then grabbed it and moved together towards the jewel finally found.
Max, then settled with Charles on the carpet that every child must have had in his life. With a road full of paths that formed a village, in bright colors that made anyone who looked at it squint. Except that here time had washed away all the bright colors so well that it had become dull.
"Salut Esteban (Hi Esteban)", Charles' first words had been spoken in French. "Moi c’est Charles et voici Max (I’m Charles, and this is Max)", the fluid French came out of the mouth of the Monegasque.
The boy's head slowly rose in surprise. Certainly not used to waiting for such a sure French. Max tried to be as reassuring as possible, whether it was in his eyes or in his gestures with a small wave of the hand as a greeting. His big brown eyes caught Max's blue ones, as well as Charles' green ones. A real meeting of colors.
"Bonjour, je parle un peu le français (Good Morning, I speak a little French). Not as well as this man next to me, but I'm sure we could have something in common." Max tried a primer, mixing rough French and English, to try to seduce this little six-year-old, argued with a smile that was meant to be welcoming.
The movement of Estaban's little hand made him understand that he had understood. The relief had never been so invigorating. Especially when the gesture ended with a smile with all his teeth in turn. If Max had looked at Charles, he would have seen the tears gathering in his eyes and he would have cried in turn. When the obvious was so pure, it was hard to escape the emotions of his heart.
"Tu aimes les voitures ? (Do you like cars?)" Charles continued his way to perhaps get the child to speak. He saw a hesitation, as her lips opened slightly before she simply nodded. Very well it would take a little patience.
"You know Charles and I used to drive cars that went really, really fast," Max exclaimed, pointing to the little blue and red car in front of their eyes.
That had been enough because the toddler's first words had come out before he was even surprised.
"Really?" The bemused and admiring eyes were as captivating as a Senna race against Prost, which Max watched as a child.
"Yes, if you want, we could show it to you sometime?" Charles' laughter echoed through the room, especially when Esteban nodded vigorously that it looked like his head would break.
"Tu parles le français comme moi ? (You speak French like me?)" the young boy asked curiously, squeezing his stuffed animal a little tighter with his little fingers.
“Oui, je viens de Monaco (Yes, I'm come from Monaco). Tu vois où c’est ? (Do you see where that is?)"
In typical Francophone sign language, Charles milled his hands as he spoke amusingly to Esteban in front of him. Max admired the interaction which was of a naturalness he had not known with children, even if they could be fans, he had never been totally at ease never knowing how to really address them. But, as though earlier, with Charles everything seemed obvious.
"In France!"
The answer would always amuse Max, because the grimace that appeared on the face of the Monegasque was always hilarious. But, today, he couldn't totally let himself go so he put on his best smile to correct Esteban.
"No, not really. Oui, c’est au sud de la France, mais c’est un petit pays. On appelle ça une principauté, ça veut dire que c’est un prince qui gouverne. Je suis monégasque, pas français. (Yes, it's in the south of France, but it's a small country. It's called a principality, which means that a prince rules. I'm a Monegasque, not a french people)." Max didn't quite get it because Charles had taken up French to avoid overwhelming the boy. It worked because he was hanging on his interlocutor's lips, admiring to learn something new.
"Monekasque?"
Laughter filled the room for a second, not mocking just amused.
"No, moné-gas-que." The movements of Charles's index finger, as if he were tapping the keys of a piano, made it possible to distinguish the syllables to help Esteban with the phonetics.
Esteban tried to repeat the word, shy in turn as he tucked his head into his Spiderman plush and looked at Max, as if looking for emotional support. Max saw the opportunity that was being offered to him, he needed to divert the attention to another subject to avoid scaring her completely. Then, he took the small blue car to make it slide in its turn, on the wooden floor making vibrate the ground before laughing to cause the same emotion at the Frenchman. He was going to know what happened, but Max felt a small hand resting on his when he wanted to roll the car again. A warmth that spread throughout his body that he had never been ready for, but it felt so good. It was clearly not a tear that was in the corner of his left eye, hanging from those lashes. Definitely not. Well, maybe a little.
In any case, what Max knows that they ended up rolling the car together, like at a first grand-prix start, with the vibration of the ground sending him back to the purr of his engine that had brought him so much victory. At that moment, the five-time F1 world champion wondered how it was possible to feel so much love for a child he had never met before. As he felt Charles leaning against his left side, wrapping his arm around the back of his back with his hand resting on the ground, he knew he didn't belong anywhere else but here.
The confidence over the minutes had built up so much, that if Esteban leaned a little closer to Max, he could almost sit on his lap. Charles had even managed to get the boy to laugh happily, which seemed like a lullaby to both adults. Max knew that when he got home tonight, words would be golden because the memories of immeasurable sweetness would still be too vivid to dare express. The gestures of love would suffice. Max also knew that the room would already be under construction in both their minds.
However, for the moment he had to remain fixated on what was happening in front of him, with Esteban now leaning over a small plastic table in primary colors, showing something about the coloring he was doing before they arrived. And a Charles who was contemplating the child's still precocious talents, focused on what Esteban was telling him. Then Max stood there, staring at the two people he knew to be the most important in his life at that moment, continuing the work he had left unfinished a few minutes earlier. He knew he would find a Charles filled with markers and paints at the end of the day, like a kindergartner coming out of painting class. But, without any shame, he wouldn't hesitate to turn in all his world championship titles if it meant living this moment repeatedly. His father would certainly be mortified if he could hear his thoughts. But the blond man didn't care, he just wanted to shout out how much the certainty he had been waiting for all his life was right in front of his eyes.
C'est sur un des rires de Charles qui avait totalement raté le chien qu'il voulait dessiner pour Esteban, que l'intrus s'est posé. Max eut envie de la maudire d'avoir interrompu un si beau moment, surtout lorsqu'il vit Esteban s'éloigner de la table et donc de Charles. Recroquevillé dans un coin, avec sa peluche Spiderman. Charles ne comprit pas la situation, avant de lever les yeux pour comprendre que l'interruption avait signifié la fin de ce moment qui lui avait semblé une éternité. Il les voulait pour le reste de sa vie. L'ancien pilote Ferrari a regardé Max pour comprendre qu'ils ressentaient la même chose que la moitié de la même âme. Ils hochèrent la tête pour confirmer leurs pensées respectives et qu'ils voulaient aller jusqu'au bout.