Chapter Text
And if I only could
I'd make a deal with God
And I'd get him to swap our places
Be Renault up that road
Be Renault up that hill
Be Renault up that building
From: Toto Wolff
I'm sorry Daniel. We have decided to keep Valtteri for another season.
Best of luck at Red Bull next year.
T. W.
Daniel stares at his phone for a couple of more seconds. As if he can will it into saying something else if he just looks at it long enough. Sighing in defeat, he lifts his head to the sky, eyes closed, the hand griping his phone falling to his side.
I really thought it could happen.
No, its worse than that.
I wanted it to happen. Join Mercedes. Take it to Hamilton.
It was silly of him. Of course they would give Valtteri another season. If Daniel had joined, he would have taken it to Lewis right away.
Like he had done with Seb.
Daniel wouldn't cave to team orders like Bottas does.
He wouldn't crumble like Rosberg had, and retired after crushing his team mate.
He wouldn't run away to Renault with his tail between his legs like Alonso had.
Toto couldn't risk that.
So they needed someone agreeable. Who doesn't ask questions, just follow orders.
Someone like Valtteri.
"James say jump, you say how high."
Mercedes had no doubt seen how Daniel and Max fought on track. That Daniel didn't back down, he was strong and made the right decisions. Even when Christian disagreed.
Especially when Christian disagreed.
It isn't Daniel's fault that he is so smart, knows the right calls, and, more importantly, has the balls to do it. Red Bull are blinded by Verstappen, afraid to upset him.
We have to keep him content, Daniel. It's only for a few more years until he's sharpened up. If he gets restless now, we could loose him to Ferrari or Mercedes.
That was what had given him the idea.
You kept Max, but you lost me to Mercedes.
Oh the irony.
Toto would say that it was he who sought out Daniel, because how could he not, the talent spoke for itself. But actually, it was Daniel who had put out the bait. Gone to parties he knew Toto attended. Stood at the right place at the right time, laughed perfectly to catch Wolff's attention. And oh, did Daniel get his attention. Just as he had, Daniel would fix his attention on someone else, shower them with attention. If Toto wanted him, he would have to make the first move.
In Monaco, Dan dropped everything when the Mercedes boss came over to congratulate him. Staring deep into those Austrian eyes, Daniel had plastered on his biggest, most charismatic smile and manifested I'm what you want, what you really really want.
Someone on Daniel's maternal side must have been a witch, because shortly after he had received an invitation to consider switching team. To the German silver arrows.
To everyone else Daniel would say it was Toto that approached him, that leaving Red Bull never occurred to him.
They were so concerned we would steal Max from them, they didn't see us stealing Daniel from right under their nose, Toto would tell the room, everyone laughing, Daniel grinning holding his WDC trophy close. To Daniel, Toto would toast, raising his champagne flute. To Daniel, the room would answer.
It was perfect.
Too perfect.
Mercedes were idiots for not realizing what they were missing out on.
You really wanted it to happen, the voice in his head says. Shut up, Daniel answer.
Walking towards the Red Bull Power Station, he passes Valtteri sitting on a bench talking to Fernando Alonso. The Finn and Spaniard both look up when he strolls by; Valtteri's face clean shaven and cheeks flushed, Fernando's scruffy beard and unreadable expression.
Looking for anything to save him from getting lost in Valtteri's blue eyes, Daniel gratefully makes his way towards Renault when Cyril Abidebul waves at him.
***
This is the angriest Christian Horner has been all year.
And that says a lot, because in 2018 Max and Daniel has pushed him close to busting a blood vessel many times.
As he stomps down the paddock, Drive To Survive filming crew jogging to keep up, he replays the conversation in his head.
I'm leaving the team.
That's funny Daniel.
I'm not joking Christian.
You can't be serious.
I am.
Is this about money? Because if-
It's not about money.
Is it the kid? Are you running from a fight? Throwing in the towel before it's even begun?
Where would you even go?
Daniel forces himself to not look over his shoulder. He knows if he does, he will look suspicious as hell. And that's the last thing he want's; drawing unnecessary attention before they go public with the news.
He's not sure if it's Carlos or Hulkenberg he'll be replacing, but he can't let them find out because he messed up. He owe it to Cyril to let him handle it when the time is right.
Not to mention how fast gossip spreads in the paddock. He's been avoiding Red Bull people like the plague ever since he called Christian.
If Christian knew he has yet to give Cyril the contract-
No. It's best to be discreet.
So he walks on, Renault logo burning on the papers rolled in his hand.
If anybody wonders, he's a driver with a Renault engine, and the papers in his hand are his feedback. On the engine. From the Red Bull car. That he drives.
He has every right to hand papers over to Cyril, he tells himself, as he opens the door to the press cafeteria.
Not that there's anybody here to catch him. The hallway is empty, and all the rooms have their lights turned off.
You got this champ.
"Where would you even go", Christian mumbles to himself through gritted teeth. Ahead of him he spots the man who filled Dan's head with fantasies and conceit.
"Cyril", he barks, picking up his pace, the filming crew close behind.
Cyril looks up, his big, brown eyes shining in the sun as he smiles innocently. Bastard.
" 'ello Christian. Is good too see you. Such a lovely day, oui?"
Christian smile is as sour as Mark was after Turkey 2008.
"Good day for taking someone else's driver?"
"Ah, you know, Dani-el and me, we joked-"
"Joked?!"
"Oui, a joke 'ere and there. 'e said "what if I joined Renault" and I said "what if you did". All jokes, of course.", he laughs.
Christian hates how he laughs without the H's.
Daniel's confident smile falter when he spots Valtteri sitting and reading. Of course he's reading his Mercedes contract. Daniel tighten his fists.
Mine.
Not yours, the voice in his head reminds him. You wanted Renault all along, remember?
Daniel breaths through his nose.
What did you do to get an extension? he thinks to himself.
Promised to be Lewis' wingman for life? His bitch? To never win again? To bend over and take it-
Stop, pleas!, the voice in his head pleads.
What did you let Toto do to you, huh?, he thinks, noticing how Valtteri lips slightly part when he reads. How flushed his cheeks are. That they are always flushed.
"I don't know when it stopped being jokes, and became more serious. Funny guy, our Dani-el. 'e's very easily... entertained", Cyril says, lowering his head when he looks deep into Christian's eyes.
Christan can feel his face turn dark red in anger, and beeping sound shrieks in his ears.
Valtteri looks up, smiling at Daniel.
Fuck, are his eyes always this light blue?
He waves, and Daniel waves awkwardly back.
Congratulations, you won.
Congratulations, you won, Christian thinks.
Cyril just looks at him, smiling the coldest smile Christian has ever seen.
"'e needs a driver, and an engine", Cyril mocks, referring to how Renault will no longer be Red Bull's engine supplier.
Daniel will never know what Toto sees in Valtteri. As a driver that is. He has seen the way Toto's eyes wander when Valtteri walks by. Or takes his shirt off. Or bends over.
Maybe I can start a rumor they have a inappropriate workplace relationship and-
Will you stop it!, the voice in his head whines. You'll get Toto fired!
Maybe that's what I want.
You sick sick man!
"Do you have any money left for your engine, now that you've spent it all on your driver?"
Something in Cyril's eyes staggers.
"We 'ave plenty of money."
Liar, Christian smirks.
"Listen here, Cyril- oh. Good day Toto!"
"Is not a good day Christian", Toto mumbles, as he brushes past him and starts talking French to Cyril. The Drive To Survive crew look at each other, unsure if they are allowed to film the Mercedes boss.
"Is that feedback on the Renault engine?", Valtteri asks.
Daniel clears his throat, remembering his lie.
"Yes. Yes it is! I-"
Wait a minute.
Mercedes cars use Mercedes engines.
Valtteri doesn't need to give feedback to Renault.
That's not the Silver Arrows logo.
As much as Christian is a Brexit defender, and is very proud he never learned French, he is nosy and hates being left out.
"What's going on?"
"He!", Toto shouts, throwing himself around, eyes wide with anger as he points at Cyril, "Signed Valtteri behind my back!"