Archive of Our Own

There's a bunch of trophies in Daniel's flat in Monaco. Not the real ones, those are at Red Bull's/Alpine's/McLaren's factory, but fake ones. They look convincing enough to the untrained eye, but Daniel knows better. 13 years of driving will teach you the difference: they're duller, less shiny and proud, and Daniel's are a bit dusty.

All the ones from his wins are lined up in a sort of zig-zag-ish row, with the ones from his podiums held underneath them in clusters. It looks messy, and Daniel will be glad to put them in a box to be shipped off back to Perth where he won't see them for months if he can help it. There's too much stuff to do in America with Enchanté kicking off to think about returning to Australia before Christmas.

There's one missing trophy, and another that's the wrong kind. Of course, his Monaco 2016 trophy deserves to be for first and not second. Daniel still has some lingering anger towards that race for reasons everybody witnessed. That pit-stop was a disaster and frankly a disgrace. He had been fuming and unable to be happy for anyone, even Checo who dragged that Force India into third, and the cameras picked up on all of it.

Then there's Australia 2014. Something to do with fuel in his car caused him to lose his second place trophy. That felt like a stab to his chest because once again, it's nothing he did, and it was in his home country too. He felt like shit for ages after that, and his mum told him that there will be other times, that he will be back on that podium again. He wasn't.

Daniel places a large cardboard box on the floor and starts to carefully place the trophies in the box. The first one he picks up is his podium in Spain, 2014. The first one that counted. He had no hope for a win with that race, being 50 seconds or so off of Hamilton and Rosberg, but pulled about half a minute from fourth. It meant something. It meant he was good, and was just getting started. He let the praise fill his ears and inflate his ego... perhaps too much.

He places in all the other podium trophies in the box, and turns towards where his wins are displayed. 3 of his 8 wins are from 2014, making it his best season. His best season. And then everything else was what? A ten year downfall until the bitter, car-wreck of an end? Probably, he thinks as he places those three trophies in and closes the box, taping it shut and writing 'TROPHIES - 2014' in black sharpie on the side.

2015 was a bit shit in comparison. 2 podiums. No wins. They go in a box labelled 'OTHER TROPHIES'. In hindsight, it was a transitional year. Seb was gone and Max was about to arrive and Red Bull will see someone they want to make into a new champion, and between him and Max, they were never going to pick him.

He then moves on to 2016. Several podiums, one win, and the start of something Daniel could've never predicted when 18 year old Max was suddenly pulled up to replace Daniil. The media and the team saw just how well they clicked together, a PR wet dream if you will, and Daniel never expected his work best friend to turn into his actual best friend so quickly.

Then at some point between 2016 and 2017, Daniel fell in love with Max, even if it was scary to admit it to himself when he realised. Many may view Max as someone who stormed into Red Bull and took everything Daniel has ever worked for, but Daniel never sees it that way. Michael had said it was his rose-tinted glasses, but Daniel disagrees. Max worked hard and took only what was rightfully his. And even Daniel can admit that Max has a lot more skill than Daniel does. He finally got put in a competitive car and won his first race with it, holding off 2007 champion Kimi Raikkonen. Daniel knew immediately that Max was going to go places that he may not be able to follow, and that was a hard pill to swallow at the time despite the fact it was the truth.

He can't help but smile when he picks up the trophy from Malaysia and carefully places it in with his other podiums from that year. It was their first 1-2 together. He recalls with fondness how they sprayed champagne at each other and did a shoey on the podium. The start of something beautiful. But that's the thing with beauty, isn't it? It rarely lasts and you don't appreciate it enough until it's gone.

2017 was pretty great even if he didn't finish as high as he did in the standings. Plenty of podiums for himself, more wins, and podiums with Max. Another one in Malaysia, actually, but this time the top step belonged to Max. It was just as beautiful as the year before. Champagne, laughter, screaming at the crowd and hugging the mechanics.

However, Max had kissed him at the party afterwards. Daniel reciprocated, drunk enough to let himself go. Max had been 20 at the time, which definitely had not been on his mind as it happened, and after that Daniel had told him, "we can't," and disappeared from the club. Neither of them would bring it up for a while after that and the trophy became tainted with the memory of Max's disappointment and the sounds of two hearts cracking.

It's was a good call, Daniel thinks as he labels and closes his 2017 box. Being... something when 2018 happened would've made everything worse. Of course, everyone knows Baku. It's referenced and referred to all the time in media and online. Some call it a second Lewis and Nico, a call to their crash in Spain. Heck, even Max and he joke about it now it's long in their past. But at the time they had both been so angry and blaming each other, and Daniel believes that should they have done something about their feelings, they would've never bounced back from it.

His two wins go in the 'OTHER TROPHIES' box. Monaco will always be special because he had it coming. Finally it was his time, taking what he deserved two years prior. He traces his finger over the cool metal of the trophy and places it into the carboard and packing peanuts. It's probably the only one of the only trophies he can stand to look at.

There are 3 trophies left. Daniel thinks that it was not enough. He was good, he was really good. The cars just didn't give him what he needed to show that. He'd tried looking at those years differently, that he still had many good races even if he didn't land on the podium. But in Formula 1, not finishing on those top steps means a race is worthless.

Monza 2021 feel like a distant memory. Daniel loved the race, less so what happened that evening. Max has been furious, saying it was his win to have and Daniel ruined his championship. Once again, a reason why he didn't give in to his feelings, even is he was comfortable admitting them. Max had gone off and started dating Kelly the year before and the door was closed for Daniel. They were still friends, but the words had stung. It had been three years since he won a race, and he thought Max would be happy for him. Like how they used to be.

Max apologised a couple days later. Daniel forgave him a week after that. He didn't want to lose Max. He'd rather have Max in his life in some way than not at all. That doesn't mean he wasn't entitled to be hurt about it.

And that was it. Every single accomplishment all put into four boxes, taped and sealed away from the light, shut out just as he was.

Daniel lies back on the carpeted floor, staring up at the untouched white ceiling and feeling tired. He never wanted to leave, but his puppets strings were cut by the men above and he was discarded. A lot of people were mad or sad about it. Daniel had cried in the media pen. The dark parts of him told him that it was about time, and that he had only been delaying the inevitable. Those shadows still bother him, but one day he hopes that he will be in a place where they are old friends rather than enemies.

He sighs and forces himself back up and takes the boxes out, one by one, to be put in the back of a van and sent to Perth. Maybe his family will be able to enjoy the fake shine of them more until Daniel finds the strength to love them again. No regrets, only memories. Right?

Daniel's driver's room in the Netherlands has this tall, almost ceiling to floor mirror in the corner, right next to a large VCARB logo on the wall, like it has always had since the start of the year.

When he first saw it, he hadn't minded. He would tell himself, this time next year, he would be in that Red Bull seat. He would be a race winner again. Every racing session would be a new encouragement, followed by a thumbs up or finger guns at himself. That was naïve hope.

But now Daniel has placed a chequered blanket over it, white and red tightly knit threads preventing Daniel from seeing himself. They smell of home, always have, as it was a gift from his mother for when he's racing in places colder than Australia. Somehow, he's still not used to the low temperatures of Europe.

It's not what he looks like that bothers him. He thinks he's aging pretty nicely and looks good for 35. No, that's not why he has covered up the mirror. That mirror represented hope, the belief he still had it in him, that he still had a chance.

And he came so close to having what he wanted. They told him after he got out the car in Belgium that they were going to move him back up to Red Bull, and gave this whole spiel of they're proud of him, it's where he belongs, they'll find a way out of Checo's contract, yada yada. He even made that stupid helicopter video.

Then they took it away from him. No matter what they said, Daniel knew it was the simple fact that Checo's sponsors bring in loads of money for the team and that almost the entirety of the Latin American fanbase stands behind Checo. It's all bullshit. Surely a team would care more about results than sponsors, and they can always find new ones if they think Daniel's aren't enough. He knows that many people would love to see the 'maxiel' duo back as teammates. Heck, he would like to see the 'maxiel' duo back.

But, there was nothing he can do. So he covered the mirror so he would not allow himself to be so delusional again. He goes out to the Dutch crowds and does his whole smiley 'Danny Ric' performance like he is supposed to while in his mind he is staring at his career being shot, bullet after bullet of despair and finality. However, the media love his mask, so do the fans, and he is not about to shit on anyone's day just because his are getting harder.

By the time the race had ended, Daniel felt cold. He placed 12th, which is alright, he supposes, but not where he needs to be. He can't have what he wants, that much was made fucking certain, but he still hopes they will keep him for next year. So he needs to be in the points, and 12th is not that.

He lies on his tiny sofa in his drivers room and pulls his legs up so all of him can fit. He closes his eyes and tries not to think about racing, about the chill that seems to have permanently latched itself onto his skin since he stepped out the car, be it from the barely warm Dutch summer by the sea or some internal bullshit going on with him. He thinks of hot suns and animals on a farm, wearing a cowboy hat and tipping it to a horse, or the heat from the bustling streets of LA, people moving in all directions and the smells coming from the delis and food joints on the corners of streets. Just anything that can give him the illusion of warmth.

Eventually he gives up, moving back into a sitting position and staring at the blanket over the mirror. He doesn't want to take it off, but he wants to be warm again. Daniel reaches for the blanket, grabs it tightly with his fist and yanks. The fabric fwoosh-es off the mirror and into his hand, the edges of it touching the floor. He drapes the long side of it over his shoulders and holds two corners in his hands as he folds his arms so it's wrapped around himself entirely. Warmth finally begins to seep into his bones.

He keeps his gaze to the floor and turns away from the exposed mirror. If he looks at it, he's afraid he will say something stupid like: "this is not how I want it to end. I am good enough for one last chance."

The blanket is back up again in Monza.

It's been nearly 3 months since Daniel left Formula 1.

He's doing better, not totally great but he's making decent progress towards it. He spends his days being anywhere but his room in LA if he can help it. He goes to see Josh's NFL games and basically dives headfirst into work for Enchanté, making pop up stores and new collections whenever he gets the opportunity.

He's got about 4 hours until he has to leave his LA apartment again to fly to New York for a while. His suitcase is packed and he has double checked that he's got his flight details, boarding pass and his passport and is tying his trainers when he sees something out of the corner of his eye.

Daniel walks up to the counter and sees a framed photo of him and the Red Bull team from Canada in 2014. His first win. He looks happy, smiling widely whilst yelling towards the camera, and champagne sticky. The feelings he has been forgetting rear their ugly heads, namely the fact that if he had never left Red Bull, what would be different? Would he be like Checo, completely unable to challenge Max for a championship, or would he have one, or even several? Would he still happier? Would he save himself from all the pain or just experience a different kind? How would his relationship with Max change?

Daniel sighs and picks up the photo then drops it in the trash, before removing any other photos of a similar nature, of which there are a good chunk. They're just photos, and he can always print them again if he wanted to, so really, it's not a big deal. When he looks back at the room, it appears cleaner. Daniel can always fill the space with untarnished memories when he gets back.

His schedule for New York is actually very open. He has some shooting for an ad for the pop up store and then the actual pop up store but between that there's not much for him to do. Sure, Daniel has made jokes about how he's been enjoying the free time when anyone asks but he hates it, especially when he's alone and his only companion is his thoughts. Having a packed schedule makes it easier to distract himself.

Still, doing the pop up in New York is better than staying in LA for no reason. Daniel picks up his suitcase and decides to just get to the airport early. He walks past someone on the stairs who turns and stares at him, whispers his name, but Daniel keeps moving, not even looking at their face. It was probably some fan and he does not feel like saying hi today.

He sits in the taxi and watches the city roll by, palm trees and tall buildings decorating the streets. It's beautiful, he thinks, it's home. He looks forward to coming back after his New York trip and putting new decorations in his flat that make him feel the same way the city does.