Chapter Text
Charles had done a phenomenal job at not crashing his car for the past three years. Except for the occasional engine failure or a slip into the gravel, he had a near perfect record. And it wasn’t like he’d suddenly become the most careful driver on the grid — he was far from it.
He just took fewer risks, driving more calculated and level-headed, all due to one simple reason: he had a kid waiting for him at home (or, more often than not, watching him on the screens back in the Ferrari garage).
Jordan had a bad history with car crashes. Or rather, just one really bad one. It was how he and Max had met her, pulling her from the car wreck that remained after a ghost driver had smashed into Jordan and her mom. Her mother, sadly, hadn’t made it out.
So, yeah, Charles wasn’t planning on adding to his daughter’s trauma by making her watch him shunt his car when it could be avoided. And he wasn’t keen on doing that to Max, either, though he was much more accustomed to the risk racing brought with it and knew perfectly well that the crashes usually looked worse than they actually were.
See, the problem was Belgium.
The Belgian weather, to be exact.
The rain came in fast and heavy. Charles hadn’t pitted for slicks yet and was struggling to see ten metres ahead of him. Those weren’t great conditions. He checked the small display on his steering wheel in vain. No yellow flag in sight.
“Pit for inters?” He asked over the radio, only to be told off a moment later.
“Negative. Stay out, the rain shouldn’t last much longer.” Charles wanted to argue, the familiar annoyed tug at the pit of his stomach making an appearance — Ferrari and their insistence that they knew best, when, really, they didn’t — but he never got the chance.
The hard tires lost grip. In the middle of a straight.
He hit the brakes but it didn’t help, so Charles pulled his hands off the steering wheel as it was all he could do. The car spun once, twice and came to a stop facing the wrong way. Still very much on the track.
Charles was already pushing the radio button, frantically demanding for a red flag, when a flash of silver raced towards him.
There wasn’t enough time for him to do anything. In the blink of an eye, the Mercedes hit him, at full speed, sending both cars tumbling to different directions. Charles barely noticed that his car rolled over twice, going airborne once.
The only thing he felt was pain, his body being tossed around and shaken in the confined space of the cockpit. He prayed for it to stop soon.
When it did stop, he wished it hadn’t. The car hit something hard and solid, the impact so brutal it shook through Charles’ entire body, making him surge forward violently. The seatbelt dug into his chest and stomach like knives, and, despite his best efforts to keep his arms crossed over his chest, one of them slipped and bashed against the dashboard.
And, last but not least, he hit his head on something, the impact hard enough to send him into darkness.
The last thing that went through his mind was, how fucking scared his husband and daughter had to be. Charles wished for nothing more than to promise them that he was fine.
*
The world outside the track stopped for a moment. Everybody held their breaths as the Ferrari slammed into the barriers, loose pieces scattered around the gravel, many looking important, not at all like something that should come off the car. Its nose was slammed in, but Max knew the number that had been on in mere seconds ago.
He knew the helmet that hung lifelessly behind the halo.
But the voice that belonged to it didn’t crackle through the radio. Nothing but agonising silence filled the headphones he was wearing.
A thousand thoughts raced through his head all at once, half of them swallowed up by the merciless beat of his own heart that threatened to burst his eardrums. Max tried his best to drown them out, to focus on the facts — worst case scenario, assessing the severity of the crash based on what he saw on the screen in front of him, what he’d do if…
“Charles, are you alright?” The voice of Charles’ race engineer brought everything back to life.
A buzz went through the garage as everybody started murmuring to one another, the pit wall looked seconds away from throwing a fit and Max tore his gaze from the TV and down to his right to where his daughter stood.
That had to be what Max focused on. Despite the lack of an answer from Charles, even though his race engineer had tried to get through to him three times by now.
Maybe something was wrong with the radio. It didn’t have to mean that-
Max blinked himself back to focus and looked at Jordan. She stood deathly still, looking almost frozen the way she had a hand fisted into her sweater, while the other hung limply at her side. She didn’t move a single muscle, her face sent into an unreadable mask, eyes trained on the TV.
Max assumed she must have been in a state of shock and gently nudged her, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Jordan? Jordan.” He tried to get her attention, but didn’t succeed.
Her eyes wouldn’t leave the screen. Max kneeled down in front of her and followed her gaze. Charles was still in the car.
“He’ll be okay. He’ll be out of the car soon. Everything’s okay.”
No answer, no reaction. Nothing.
The pit that had opened in Max’s stomach deepened, worry and fear spewing from it like hot lava. This wasn’t good. None of it was. He needed Charles to get his ass out of that wreck and for Jordan to at least look at him or acknowledge him in some other way.
The screen now showed marshals arriving at the scene. One of them carried a fire extinguisher, which Max thought to be entirely unnecessary, until he took a closer look and noticed smoke coming from the rear end of the shunted car. He swore under his breath and almost flinched at the sound of his own voice. It was brittle, on the verge of breaking.
Max cleared his throat, but it didn’t help fight the growing tightness that threatened to overtake it. His eyes stung traitorously, adding to the mess he was threatening to become.
“Jordan-”
Max fell silent the instant a familiar groan echoed through the headphones. His heart missed another beat, tightening in anticipation.
“Charles, are you there?” His race engineer tried again.
“Yes,” The word came out strangled, sounding like it had been punched out of Charles. “I… I blacked out. Merde-” Another, longer groan followed and then all they could hear was harsh, laboured breathing.
A tear ran down Max’s cheek as he lifted his gaze to the screen to see his husband being pulled from his car. It took three marshals because Charles didn’t seem to be able to do it himself. Once he was finally out, he was carried to the side, hanging limply in their arms.
Max wanted to be there. Be the one that held Charles and reassured him and made sure that he was fine. He had to be sure Charles was okay.
“He’s fine. See? He's alright.” Max said breathlessly, unsure if he was saying it for Jordan’s comfort or his own.
It didn’t change anything about Jordan’s catatonic state. Desperate, Max grabbed her shoulders and turned her towards him, hoping that she’d finally snap out of it if she couldn’t see the screen anymore. Her body was tense beneath his touch, every muscle taut. He tried taking the hand that was clawed over her heart, but it wouldn’t budge.
Max felt sick, the storm of emotions in him rising to the back of his throat.
“Please, Jordan, say something. Can you hear me?” Max didn’t sound so different from Charles’ race engineer’s as he begged his daughter for a sign of life.
He didn’t know if Jordan’s unresponsiveness was medically worrying, but in his panic, Max felt his fear triple in size. God, his husband was currently in the back of the medical car and his daughter looked about ready to collapse-
“Max,” One of the Ferrari crew members had come over and was now squatting next to them. His gaze was forcefully calm, but Max could see right through it, could sense the terror, and assumed the worst. “They are taking Charles to the nearest hospital.”
He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. Max knew exactly what that meant.
If a driver wasn’t even brought to the medical tent on the paddock and taken straight to the hospital, then it was bad. There had to be severe injuries visible that did not require a medical professional to find.
Or death. Death was another reason.
The thought dug its way through Max’s brain as he got up and took Jordan’s hand. Luckily, she followed when he put a hand to her back, guiding her out the back of the garage and through the paddock.
It was eerily empty, the sounds of the race continuing a faint buzz.
He put Jordan in the back, where her seat was. Any other time, he might have felt guilty over the little hint of relief that washed through him over not having to look at her while driving. He just couldn't take the hollow stare of her eyes. Didn’t know how to deal with it.
Charles would have.
Google Maps said the journey to the hospital should’ve taken fifteen minutes, Max made it in seven and a half. They were the first ones there, which had him press his eyes shut and take a deep breath. This was one of those rare moments when he would have loved some guidance. A firm hand on his shoulder and a warm voice telling him what to do.
But, the person that normally did that for Max, was somewhere in this hospital, lying somewhere on a white table, getting god knows what done to them.
He sat Jordan down on a nearby chair and went to the information desk. The woman sitting on the other side of it did her best to pretend she did not know exactly who he was as she gave him all the information he needed; Charles was getting examined and a doctor would be with them once he’d be transferred to his room.
She also told Max where to go and wait for the time being. Max thanked her, about to turn and leave, when he caught a glimpse of Jordan, who sat exactly the way he’d left her. She hadn’t even shifted.
“Would it be possible for someone to check out my daughter? She hasn’t moved or said a word since she saw the accident…” Max felt familiar dread creep up his spine as he waited for the receptionist’s answer.
A very irrational part of him expected her to reach for some secret horrible-parent-alert button and some guys would storm in and take Jordan away from him. The more rational part was sure she’d at least cuss him out for not doing anything to help Jordan.
The receptionist didn’t press any buttons and she didn’t cuss Max out. She didn’t even look mad, instead smiling and reassuring him that she’d send for someone. With a small, relieved sigh, Max walked back to Jordan and then led her to the waiting area they’d been appointed to.
It was quieter there, only two other people sat on opposite sides of the room, both too engrossed in their own personal tragedy to notice them join the depressed silence.
It didn’t help Max’s nerves, and neither did the quietness of the room. His daughter's silence.
What would a child’s reaction normally be?, he asked himself as he began pacing the space, unable to sit still for more than a minute at a time.
Surely, there would be crying. Questions, too.
Was Papa okay? Why wasn’t he coming back to them? Why did they have to go to the hospital to see him? Why did everyone around them look so sad? Should they be sad?
Max was asking half those questions himself, sure that if some medical professional was to walk by, he’d just throw them at the poor person. The self-control he’d built over the span of his life was fraying around the edges, helpless anger rising above the fear like a protective blanket.
He felt vulnerable enough as it was, he didn’t need people to see it too. He hated it when they did. Hated the pity and empty promises that came with it. They did more harm than good, agitating him even more than he already was.
His eyes found Jordan for a brief moment, his thoughts latching back onto her. On her lack of crying and questions and anything else, really.
Did she have to look so… defeated? Like Charles’ fate was sealed already. Like he’d already-
A man in a white coat stepped into the waiting area, kind professionalism written all across his ageing features as he asked Max and Jordan to follow him. For a weak moment the Dutchman hoped he’d lead them to Charles, the disappointment hitting him harder than it should have when they ended up in a plain examination room.
Jordan was sat on a white table, so the doctor could take a look at her, just as Max had asked. She answered none of the questions that were asked of her, barely following instructions given to her. Max averted his gaze half-way through the ordeal, looking at the biology themed posters instead.
There was an image of a skeleton on one of them and his stupid brain suggested which of the many bones depicted there Charles could’ve broken during his crash. And then it went on supplying Max with healing times, chances of full recovery and so on. It was still better than looking at Jordan, somehow.
“She seems to be fine.” The doctor turned around, shedding the rubber gloves. His smile was a little too wide for Max’s taste.
“Obviously she’s not!” He hissed, too sharply, pointing at his daughter. He didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed about his overly-dramatic reaction. “There has to be something-”
“Nothing suggests that her state was caused by any physical distress.” The doctor interrupted him calmly. “She must be in shock, but that is all. Perhaps some mental trauma had led to this… but there is nothing I can do for her.”
Swallowing a groan, Max scrubbed a hand across his face.
Fuck, he just wanted his kid back. He couldn’t deal with her right now. Not like this. Not without…
“Great.” He exhaled the word like a curse and lifted Jordan off the examination table. “Thank you anyway.”
And back to the waiting room they went.
*
Carlos was the first to join them, soon followed by Lando.
Neither of them had finished on the podium and had made up excuses about “not feeling well” to get out of their media obligations. Max couldn’t even get himself to feel grateful about it.
He couldn’t feel anything but an anxious dread, which seemed to have consumed most of him by then. No more doctors had come by to tell him how Charles was doing. It was bad. It had to be bad. Why was no one telling him what was going on?
Carlos and Lando at least had the decency to leave him alone. They simply asked about Jordan once, both a little put off by her stillness, neither man taking offence at Max’s clipped answer. They didn’t judge him for leaving her sitting by herself. Or they might’ve just hid it well.
Max heard them talk to her, listening in with one ear until a couple of minutes had passed and he hadn’t heard her voice once. It made his stomach clench, bile rising at the back of his throat.
He wanted to be anywhere then. Anywhere but here.
He wanted to scour the entire hospital, check every room, until he’d finally found his husband. It didn’t matter what state he’d be in. Max was sure it would be easier to see than spending one more second away from him, not knowing what was happening to him.
A couple times, Max was sure his heart would give out. It was beating irregularly, squeezing so painfully each time he’d take a deep breath that he had to clench a hand over it, hoping it would make it more bearable.
“Max Verstappen?”
Max’s head spun to see yet another doctor — a woman, this time — looking at him with one of those detestable polite smiles. He didn’t notice Carlos approaching until he was standing next to him. The Spaniard placed a firm hand on the small of his back.
“Yes, that- that’s me.” Max felt his throat close up, all pent up emotions rising from where they raged in his chest.
“I have news on your husband, Charles Leclerc.” The doctor went on, unaffected by whatever was currently going on on Max’s face. “He passed out on the way to the hospital and hasn’t woken up yet, but he’s in stable condition. As for his injuries, he has sustained three broken ribs, a hairline fracture on his right wrist and severe bruising to other parts of his body.”
Max tried to release the breath he was holding, but couldn’t get his lungs to do so. They ached as if an ice spike had been rammed into them. But… but he needed to ask questions. He needed to know more. He-
He looked at Carlos. Well, not really. His chin tilted towards the Spaniard, that’s all it was, but the silent request was met without hesitation. Carlos shifted, straightening in a way that made the doctor shift towards him.
His voice was much kinder than Max’s would’ve been, when he asked, “Do you have any idea when he will wake up?”
“Unfortunately, we don’t. But we will let you know when he does.”
It sounded final. Too final.
Max didn’t release the whine that tore at his throat, merely clenching his jaw, but Carlos understood.
“Can they not see him now?” He asked, nodding towards Max and Jordan.
The doctor shook her head. The small sound escaped Max despite his best efforts. Carlos’ palm on his back pressed against him more firmly, a small comfort.
“We need to monitor him longer to make sure everything is truly okay with his brain. After an impact like the one he just experienced, it might be possible that-”
Max blocked her voice out completely, tumbling backwards so violently, not even Carlos’ hand was able to hold him.
His sight blurred, feet moving on their own. All Max could think of was getting away. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. If he just- just got away far enough, it wouldn’t be real anymore. Maybe this was a bad dream, maybe…
He needed to be alone. He was breaking down, clearly, and no one could see. Charles was the only one who could, and Charles was-
Charles wasn’t here. He might never be again. Not in the way he used to be.
In his hurry, Max of course didn’t see Jordan. Didn’t see her finally breaking through her numbness for a moment to look after him.
*
Jordan wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t anymore.
Images kept flashing through her mind, confusing her on which were old and which were current. They blurred her sight, until she wasn't sure where she was or what was going on around.
It was too much. All of it.
It was like she wasn’t there, living in some alternate state, somewhere between the past and the present. It all mingled and mixed until she didn’t know the difference anymore.
Was it her mothers car that crashed or papas? Was the doctor telling them that mom had died or papa? Was she getting examined because she’d just been in a crash herself or because she’d seen another one?
She was numb to most things going around her. Voices got through to her, but they were distorted, like someone had stuck an unholy amount of cotton in her ear. The emotion in them registered sometimes.
Max’s pleading tone for example. It hurt, but Jordan couldn’t react to it, couldn’t drag herself from the fog that was drowning her.
She was too… scared.
She assumed that was what the all-consuming pain in her chest was. She didn’t cry about it, oddly enough, couldn't show any reaction to it, and after a while it subsided. Jordan was almost relieved until she realised the hollow space it left was quickly replaced by something else. Something deep and much worse.
Grief. Sadness. Whatever adults liked to call it.
Jordan had felt it before, had become familiar with it, but it hadn’t been this bad in a long time.
She’d felt like this right after she’d realised her mother had passed away. It was a sensation like no other, and it didn’t go away. Not the way other emotions did. It stuck around, fading so slowly you barely noticed, but it never really went away. Jordan knew that. She’d been living with it for four years now.
Because her mother had died. Because Charles had died too. Jordan was convinced of it.
Her mind said so, incapable of differentiating between today’s tragedy and the other one. It was all the same.
A car crashing frontally into another one.
A hospital.
Doctors with their sullen smiles.
The only difference was Max. Max wasn’t holding her this time. She didn’t get to fall asleep in his lap, comforted by the thought that she still had someone looking out for her.
She didn’t look at him, but Jordan knew he was there. Felt his presence as she sat, trapped in her own body. Part of her knew he was the only thing keeping her mind from spiralling out of control completely.
At least she still had her dad. It didn’t mean everything would be okay, but at least-
Once his voice got through to her properly. It was after the doctor had examined her and they were back in the waiting room. She assumed it was, time and place had become a rather abstract construct to her.
Max hadn’t even been talking to her. He was speaking Dutch, which he didn’t normally do. He always said she already had enough languages on her plate, but Jordan had picked some of it up anyway — it wasn’t that different from German, after all.
“Ik kan dat niet alleen.”
He’d repeated the words over and over again, probably not even realising that he was saying them. Jordan’s attention drifted away quickly, but she understood them anyway. Memorised them and added them to the loop of repeating memories.
I can’t do this alone.
It took her a moment to figure out what ‘this’ was, but the already depressing train of thought she was on didn’t make it all that hard for her. She. She was what Max meant by ‘this’.
He couldn’t handle her on his own. Didn’t want the responsibility or the difficulty that would come with raising her by himself.
Part of Jordan took it as further proof that Charles really was gone. Why else would Max be talking like that? He never jumped to conclusions, always basing himself on fact and evidence.
Another part wasn’t surprised. It was no shocking revelation, able to rip her from her daze.
She wasn’t even offended, instead understanding where Max came from. She knew that, despite her best efforts to be good, she often worried her dads. Made it hard for them. She wasn’t a great kid. So how could she blame Max for not wanting her anymore?
At some point, other voices came along. Familiar ones, but Jordan couldn’t place them. She was stuck again.
Headlights flashing. The deafening noise of metal on metal. Scraps of car parts scattered across asphalt. A cracking noise, technically too quiet to be heard across the chaos, but it rang in Jordan’s ears like a gunshot. Her mother’s scream. Charles’ ragged breathing. White hospital hallways. Hushed voices she couldn’t make out properly. Max…
Something broke through to her. A flash of blonde hair and familiar steps. She looked up just in time to see her dad disappear around the corner. Leaving. He… left her.
So, Charles died and Max left?
It only stayed a question for a few seconds. Jordan quickly let it simmer down into fact. Reality. She choked on a breath, her heart feeling like it disintegrated in her chest, leaving it aching and heaving.
She’d been through this before, but it felt different this time. Not more painful. Okay, a little maybe, because she was losing two people, instead of one, but the hopelessness added on top was blinding.
There was no way she’d get lucky again. She’d had her chance and Jordan had… was she bad luck?
She’d lost her mother and the universe had been kind enough to give her two dads that were kind enough to take her, try and give her everything. And now… now she’d lost that too and-
She didn’t notice she’d started moving until something stopped her. Two arms, wrapped around her torso. There were voices too.
“I’ll go after him.”
Jordan didn’t recognise the voice, but the accent. Spanish.
“I’ll stay with her.”
That voice was closer, right next to her. British, definitely. It said her name too, but Jordan was too far gone to answer. Not consciously, at least.
“Want dad.”
The words made it out without meaning to. It was all she could think. She wanted her dad. Her papa, too.
Jordan knew that wasn’t possible, not in the way it used to be, but she’d at least like to see papa one last time. She never got to see her mom again. Her limp head hanging to the right had been the last sight she’d ever gotten of her. She hated herself for not taking a better look before Max had lifted her out of the car.
Sometimes she could barely remember what her mom had looked like. Would it be the same with Charles? Would his face fade from her memory slowly too?
She wouldn’t believe so if she didn’t know better. If this wasn’t the second time she was doing this.
Another stretch of time must’ve passed. Suddenly she wasn’t sitting anymore. The warm, soft body she was held against told her as much. There was a strange voice. Then the familiar British one.
“I know I’m not family, but please let me take her to see him. I think it would help her…” There was a pause. Jordan felt as if she was being looked at. “Her father is currently… I don’t know where he is, but I am really worried-”
“Of course, let me show you to his room.”
They moved, but all Jordan could fixate on were the awful white walls. The hospital.
A door opened. They went through it.
It looked just as cold and white. The walls, the dresser, the curtains, the bed… Someone lay in it. Jordan wasn’t very interested in the person until she caught a glimpse of their face. It was barely visible, peeking from beneath the white blankets, but she recognised it instantly.
Her papa.
*
Max sobbed against Carlos, even if he felt horrible doing so.
The Spaniard had found him in a quiet stairway, taken a seat a step higher than Max and pulled him into a hug. And Max, who’d already been crying, hadn’t found it in him to do anything but press his face into Carlo’s stomach and carry on.
The lack of useless comforting words were a relief, the fingers carding through his hair a comfort. It wasn’t enough to make him forget about anything, but at least he managed to pull himself together. After a substantial amount of time had passed.
“Max, I know this is hard. And scary. And shit.” Carlos spoke quietly, his fingers never stilling against his scalp. “But-”
Max shook his head, pressing his eyes shut even harder. He didn’t want to hear anything about ‘but’s’. He didn’t want to move again. He wanted to stay right where he was, ignorant to reality.
If he let it in now, he felt as if he’d cave for good. Become something he’d been suppressing for so long. What he would have become if it wasn’t for Charles.
He couldn’t even get himself to think of the many what-if’s that lay in the air. If Charles was anything but fine and healthy when he woke up — if he woke up — then… Max wasn’t strong enough for that.
He was good at other things — racing, mostly, driving cars — but apart from those, he was lacking severely. Keeping himself sane and healthy, for example. Functioning as a person, for another. Or, most importantly, raising their daughter. God, he’d mess Jordan up like a champ if he was left to do it himself. He’d…
No, he couldn’t even begin to think about it.
“Jordan needs you.” Carlos said, entirely ignorant to Max’s inner monologue.
The Dutchman shook his head, an ugly, wet sound emerging from his chest. The arm around him tightened its hold. “She- she’s better off without me.”
“Don’t say that. I know you don’t believe it, but crying is nothing to be ashamed of, and I promise she won’t mind seeing you like this-”
A desperate, sharp laugh left Max’s lips. He straightened, wiping the tears off his face. When he looked up, he found Carlos frowning at him, worry written plainly across his face.
“No, I mean,” Max took a deep breath, willing his voice to lose the tremble in it. “over all. She’s better off without me, if-”
“Max!” Carlos shouted in shock, his hands flying to Max’s shoulders. His whole face went soft as he said, “Charles is not dead. You’re not alone in this. Charles will wake up and until he does, you’ve got me and Lando… and I’m sure half the grid will be here soon.”
“But I want Charles.” Max sounded small.
He felt small, too. Small and stupid.
Carlos was doing his best to help him and all Max could do was be a cry baby about it.
Carlos chuckled sadly, “I know, but you’ll have to wait a little for him. He’s always been a bit slow, right?”
It was a joke, a really funny one, to be honest, but when Max tried to laugh, a sob came out instead. In a heartbeat, he was back in Carlos’ arms, where he stayed for a while.
But he didn’t feel quite as hopeless this time. He wasn’t convinced of the worst any longer — it even felt a little silly, how devastated he’d been just a moment ago. As if he’d been planning the funeral already. Max realised something else.
Gasping, he jerked back, eyes wide. “Oh my god, I left Jordan! I just…”
He looked around as if his daughter would suddenly materialise out of thin air. Maybe with a bat in her hand, so Max could whack himself over the head a couple times.
“Did she notice?”
Carlos didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The silence and the restrained look on his face were answer enough.
Max jumped to his feet, swaying. He felt like he’d just been run over by a truck, his whole body screaming with exhaustion. Carlos caught his wrist before Max could tumble down the stairs.
“Careful,” He warned as he got up as well, leading Max upstairs slowly. “You’re tired. It’s not a surprise. Your body just went through a massive shock and-”
Max cut him off with a short smile, “I’m not doing this for the first time, remember?”
“Yeah, right.” Carlos smiled back.
Max wished it was.
*
Jordan stood beside the bed, leaving about half a metre between it and herself, because she didn’t dare get any closer.
Her gaze was fixed on the subtle rise and sink of the blanket. Charles’ breathing. She still had trouble believing that he was actually alive.
It had taken Lando quite a while to get through to her and convince her that her papa wasn’t actually dead. Just asleep. Or passed out, those were the words he’d used.
But passed out didn’t mean dead, so Jordan watched to make sure it would stay that way. She was afraid he’d stop breathing if she took his eyes away for even a fragment of a second.
“Maybe you should talk to him?” Lando suggested from where he sat on a chair a little further back. “Sometimes people can hear you, even if they are not conscious, and I’m sure Charles would appreciate hearing your voice right now.”
Lando didn’t mention that he’d also appreciate it very much if the girl said something. He hadn’t heard her say more than “want dad” and “he’s dead” — she’d whispered that when they’d come into Charles’ room — since he’d first seen her after the accident. To say Jordan freaked him out would’ve been the understatement of the year.
Jordan hummed at the idea, considering it. It seemed a little stupid in theory, but if there was even the slightest hint of truth behind Land’s words, and Charles would actually hear her, then she’d do it. She wanted to comfort her papa.
Taking a step closer, she held her breath, almost expecting something to change. For the monitor next to the bed to stop beeping or the breathing to stop suddenly.
Nothing did happen, so she released the air from her lungs and straightened her shoulders. If Papa could hear her, he might also be able to feel her and she didn’t want him to know how scared she was. She wanted him to think she was being brave right now.
Maybe, if she’d been brave all along, dad wouldn’t have left.
“You can touch him. Take his hand.” Lando instructed.
Jordan nodded and took Charles’ hand. The non-injured one. It didn’t feel right, the skin cooler than it normally was. She hoped he couldn’t feel her fingers trembling as they laced through his.
She opened her mouth and then closed it again. It didn’t seem right to speak in English. It wasn’t a language Charles was comfortable with, always struggling with it a little. That’s why Jordan had been learning French.
Well, she rarely spoke it, too embarrassed of making mistakes or fucking up the pronunciation… but that didn’t really matter right now, did it? This wasn’t about her insecurities, but helping Charles.
Was he scared? Did he know he was unconscious? Was he dreaming about something? Was it something nice or was his mind stuck on a loop, like Jordan’s had been, where he had to witness the crash over and over again?
“Papa, c’est moi, Jordan. Tu vas bien... Ou tu iras bien à nouveau. Tu es à l'hôpital, mais tu n'as pas à avoir peur. Je suis là et…” Jordan swallowed, telling herself that the sudden tightness in her throat was nothing. Definitely not tears. “Dad est là aussi. Il arrive bientôt. C'est promis.”
("Papa, it's me, Jordan. You're okay... Or you will be okay again. You're in the hospital, but there's no need to be afraid. I am here and..." — "Dad is here too. Everything will be fine. I promise.")
If she would’ve turned around, she would’ve seen Lando gaping at her in surprise. He’d never heard her speak French and, to him, it sounded flawless.
Charles didn’t react to the words, but Jordan went on anyway, on the small chance that it helped him even the tiniest bit. After a while she even climbed up on the bed. There was enough space for her to sit without touching him, legs hanging off the mattress and Charles’ hand in her lap. Tears burned in her eyes, but Jordan made sure not to let any of them slip.
“Tu n'as pas besoin de te dépêcher de te réveiller… réveille-toi un jour ou l'autre, s'il te plaît.”
("You don't have to hurry with waking up... Please, wake up sooner or later.")
Okay, maybe one tear fell at that, but Jordan wiped away before it even properly rolled down her cheeks, so it didn’t really count.
“Jordi, it’s okay-” Lando was interrupted by the door opening.
“Jordan!” Max sounded breathless, his whole face red and stuffy.
Jordan looked at him for a second before remembering that she was supposed to watch Charles. Make sure he was okay. He needed someone to be brave for him, which was exactly what she was going to be. Even if everything in her screamed to hurry into her dad’s arms and cry and admit just how scared she was.
“Tu vois ? Dad est là. Tout va bien se passer.” Her voice shook worse than it had before, so she squeezed Charles’ hand to make up for it.
("See? Dad is here. Everything will be fine.")
She didn’t notice Lando leaving and she didn’t hear Max approaching. Only when he placed his hands on her shoulder did she let out a small whine. She wanted to hug him so badly, but she couldn’t give into the urge, too afraid of something happening if she did.
“Jordan, I am so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have-” Max’s voice broke away. Jordan heard him take a deep breath, the hands on her shoulders flexing the way they always did when Max struggled with something. “I shouldn’t have left you the way I did. I just… I got overwhelmed and… I was scared. Really fucking scared.”
Jordan let out a little gasp at that. She didn’t think Max ever got scared of anything. He was always so brave, it had never occurred to her that he, too, could be scared of something.
It made her feel a little less shit about herself.
“I should’ve been better. With you. I didn’t handle it well. Anything, really.” Max went on, his voice slipping dangerously. “And I am so sorry you were the one I let it out on. I got frustrated and angry and… you deserved none of it. I-”
A sob replaced the end of that sentence. Loud and desperate. It hit Jordan like a strike to the face.
She was still sure Charles needed her, but Max needed her more.
Without letting go of her papa’s hand, she turned to face Max, who crouched next to the bed. He had a hand pressed flat to his face, trying and failing to calm himself down again. Jordan didn’t hesitate, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him into a tight hug.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” She said quietly, burying her face in Max’s blonde hair.
He re-adjusted, so he was able to wrap his arm around her. There were no more sobs, but Jordan could feel her sweater growing wet as the tears flowed steadily. She held in her own, eyes directed upwards, hoping it would help. It was her second chance to be there for Max, too.
“Papa’s alive.” She knew it was unnecessary to mention, but she thought it might ground Max. Reminding herself of it had helped, after all.
“Of course he is. I’m sorry, I-” Max lifted his face, bringing one up to cradle Jordan’s face. “You knew that too, right?”
Jordan nodded quickly, too embarrassed to admit the opposite. She had a feeling that Max would freak out if she was honest. Maybe she could tell him later, when papa was awake again. Dad was always calmer with him around.
“Oh god, Jordan-” Max stood up and sat down on her left, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. His eyes fell to Charles’ hand in her lap, where she was still holding on to it, and he covered both of them with his own. It was warm and reassuring. “Everything will be okay, I promise. I spoke to a doctor on the way here and she said that nothing’s wrong with his head. He’ll wake up soon.”
“That’s good…” Jordan felt her heart pick up a beat, her lips twitching into what might’ve been a smile. “I don’t know much more to say to him in French and I’m worried he’ll get bored if I keep repeating myself.”
“You spoke to him in French?” Max looked genuinely impressed and a little confused.
“Yes, I… I thought it might be easier for him to understand, because- because Lando said he could probably hear me, so… I didn’t want him to have to translate all the English in his head when he’s already struggling.”
“Oh, baby…” Max kissed her forehead again before resting his head on top of hers. “You are so thoughtful, you know that?”
Jordan shrugged. It didn’t seem very special to her. She just wanted Charles to be okay.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound in the room coming from the heart rate monitor. And, after what must’ve been a while, Charles shifted. Then he groaned, because the movement had probably hurt like a bitch.
Jordan and Max practically jumped off the bed, spinning around to find Charles blinking his eyes open. His eyes were glazed over and he didn’t seem to realise where he was, because they kept shifting without ever really catching onto anything.
“Charles? Charlie-” Max’s voice was rough, strained by the utter relief that coursed through his veins. He took a tentative step forward, placing his hand over Charles’. “Take it easy, my love. Everything’s okay.”
He laughed a little as Charles’ head slowly turned towards him, his eyes unfocused even as he was looking right at Max, brows pinched slightly. After all the heartache of the day, it was an adorable sight.
“Jordan, could you-” Max broke off when he found his daughter already half-way out the door, calling for Lando and Carlos to get a doctor.
He turned back with a quiet sigh, resting a gentle hand on the side of Charles’ face. His thumb brushed across the soft, tan skin on his cheek, but it wasn’t enough. Briefly, Max leaned forward, resting his forehead and his husband’s and taking a deep, steadying breath.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
Max, assuming Charles was still too out of it to understand him — let alone answer him — nearly had a heart attack when there was a low mumble in response. He leaned in.
“What did you say?”
“Nothin’ just an incident…”
Max prayed he’d heard wrong, because if Charles had actually just said what he thought he’d said, then he’d actually have to strangle the fucker to death. But Charles, primed to rage bait his husband even when barely conscious, repeated himself, a little louder this time.
“Nothing just an incident.”
“I will kill you.” Max gritted out through clenched teeth.
He might’ve gone through with his plan if it wasn’t for Jordan emerging at the side of the bed, standing on her tiptoes as she eyed her father. Her expression was full of worry and she was quiet for a while, before gathering the courage to speak to him.
“Papa?” Charles’ head turned sluggishly, his lips pulling into a smile before he eyes saw his daughter properly.
“Yes, ma petite étoile?”
“Uhm, stay awake, okay? A doctor is on the way and-”
“I’ll stay awake, I promise.” Charles looked very concentrated for a moment and then frowned down at his hand. “Why is it not moving? I want to move it, but-”
“Give yourself some time, baby.” Max kissed his cheek, looking for any and every excuse to get his lips on his husband. “You just woke up and you’ve been through a lot.”
“It was nothing, just-”
Max pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning, “If you say ‘inchident’ one more time, so help me god, I will-”
The doctor came in right before Max could issue yet another death threat. He and Jordan had to step away then, so she could examine the newly awake Charles. She sounded pretty positive when she told them everything seemed fine, but that they’d have to keep him longer for monitoring and treatment. All in all, great news.
Jordan excused herself right after the doctor left, saying she had to go to the toilet. Neither Max nor Charles had time to think about it too much, as Lando and Oscar made their appearances shortly after the girl slipped out the door. The men voiced their relief, made a couple of jokes and settled in chairs next to the bed.
They could have those gladly. Max was perfectly fine right where he was, sitting as closely to Charles as his injuries allowed.
“That was a little scary.” Charles admitted after the initial excitement had passed.
“A little? Mate, I thought you’d died when I drove past the wreck.” Lando made it sound like it was supposed to be a joke, but the serious look in his eyes didn’t make it a very convincing one.
Charles hummed, zoning out momentarily. He squeezed Max’s hand once and said, “I’m just glad Max and Jordan are okay.”
Carlos and Lando exchanged a glance. Max glared at them, silently ordering to tell them to shut the fuck up, but of course Charles had noticed the interaction. His eyes wandered to Max, questioningly.
“You were okay, right?” He asked, the gentleness in his voice laced with stern demand.
He wanted the truth. Max tilted his head away from him, unable to lie, but also not very eager to tell him the truth. Not right now.
“You two, out with it.” Charles looked at his other visitors. “And don’t even think about making excuses. I am currently injured and in a hospital bed. It would be very heartless to refuse me.”
“Well, Max was, uhm… a little out of it. But, I- I, err, I did my best to help him.” Carlos scratched the back of his neck, feeling very uncomfortable talking about Max while being in the same room as him.
“And Jordan?”
Lando’s turn then, “She, uhm… kinda wasn’t there for most of it? Like, she was catatonic, frozen, whatever. I didn’t get through to her until we went to see you and I got to convince her you weren’t dead.”
“She thought I was dead?” Charles yelped as Max froze up.
“Yeah, pretty much. But she got better when she realised you weren’t. Kept talking to you in French and I even got her to hold your hand.”
Charles could faintly remember her voice then. The soft reassurances. The way it had cut through the static noise in his head. He glanced up at Max and pursed his lips when he found him staring blankly at a wall.
Catatonic states were certainly going around today. Maybe they were contagious.
Charles tapped his thumb against the side of his hand, which, luckily, was all it took to bring Max back to him. His blue eyes were full of guilt when they looked down at him.
“I fucked up.” He muttered quietly, then his gaze wandered and Max gasped. “Where is she?”
“She went to the toilet- Oh, fuck!”
Carlos and Lando exchanged another glance, confused this time. They got half an explanation a second later, when Max launched off the bed and Charles sat up, groaning all the way.
“I’ll go look for her.”
“Bring her here right after you find her!”
And then Max was out the door. Charles stared after him for a minute, before remembering that they hadn’t been alone. With a sheepish smile he turned to the other men in the room.
“Jordan, uhm, had this tendency to hide if she’s not doing well. It’s a bit… hard to predict, at times.”
They nodded understandingly. Lando remembered the issue from the time he and Oscar babysat her.
“Maybe we should leave then, give you guys some time to deal with everything.” He suggested, dragging Carlos out of his seat as he got up.
Charles smiled gratefully and waved after them as they left.
*
Max came back five minutes later, carrying a crying Jordan in his arms. His eyes locked on Charles’ the second he walked in the door and they had a quick, silent conversation. Because after a decade together, they could do that. If the situation wasn’t so serious, they might brag about it.
How is she?
Not good. She was like this when I found her.
Fuck, we fucked up.
No, I fucked up.
Shut up, Max. No parent is perfect, now bring her over here!
As asked, Max sat down on the bed, shifting Jordan in his arms so she was between them. Charles put a hand on her back, stroking up and down in a careful pattern. Jordan shuddered against the touch, sobbing so hard it looked painful. She was shaking all over, face pressed against Max’s shoulder.
She reached out one arm, fumbling to find what she was looking for. Max set her down on the bed to make it easier for her, his eyes following her every move with concern. Finally, when her hand reached Charles’ chest, Jordan hiccuped a sigh, her body sagging in relief.
Charles and Max looked at each other with equal parts sadness and shock as they realised what she’d been looking for. Proof that Charles was still alive.
But, they… they’d thought she knew. That seeing him wake up was enough. He’d talked to her and-
Well, clearly it hadn’t been. God, how had they even let her out of their sight?
“Es geht dir gut. Du atmest.” Jordan’s voice was barely more than a whisper, muffled behind the hand she covered her face with.
("You are okay. You're breathing.")
Max flinched and when Charles looked at him for translation, he shook his head. He bent forward instead, one hand on Jordan’s back.
“He’s okay, baby. He’s awake and okay.” He said, watching Jordan’s shoulder shake with each breath she took.
“Yes, I’m not going anywhere.” Charles added, taking the hand Jordan had on his chest. When she let out a whine, he quickly let go and grabbed the other one instead. “I’m right here.”
“I know, just… I can’t- couldn’t keep the memories apart. I didn’t know what-” She tried to even out her breath, but only made it worse. “I thought you were dead, too, and I thought dad was gone and-”
“Oh…” Mad and Charles said, neither willing to look at the other.
Charles blamed himself for spinning, for getting into an accident when he could have probably avoided it, and Max cursed himself for losing control of himself the way he had. The worst-parent-award was going to them this year, no question.
“I tried to be brave and- and be there for you both, but.. I don’t know what- what happened. When you woke up, I just… I couldn’t stop myself from crying and you were so happy, so I- I’m sorry.” Jordan sounded so small as she looked up, her grey eyes glassy with tears.
“Non, non, bébé…” Charles took her face between his hands, caring very little for the sting that shot from his injured hand all the way up to his elbow. He just hoped the cast around it didn’t scratch Jordan’s face. “You don’t have to be brave for us. Jamais.”
“Papa is right.” Max scooted over, so he could hug her properly. “We’re supposed to be brave for you. Not the other way around. I’m sorry I failed so spectacularly at that today.”
“We. I didn’t do a pretty great job after waking up either.”
That got a pretty unhappy reaction from the girl, her eyes narrow as she looked at each of her fathers.
“I didn’t m-mean for this to turn into a let’s-all-blame-ourselves kind of situation.” She said, a little shaky, but not crying.
“That’s not… Well, we do kind of have to blame ourselves here.” Max shrugged and Charles hummed in agreement.
“That’s it. I’m gonna go hide again.” Jordan sniffed, shuffling forward to get off the bed.
"Absolutely not!” Max snatched her and deposited her back in his lap.
“Yeah, how about we all just appreciate that I am still alive.” Charles suggested before pointing at them. “And we talk about you two and your emotion handling process once we’re back home?” J
ordan seemed to contemplate it, her face screwed up in concentration. The tears had seized entirely and the shaking subsided slowly. Good. Fucking great, actually.
Max couldn’t help but be relieved. He knew this would be easier with Charles around. It always was.
“Fine.” Jordan agreed eventually.
“Can I get a hug then?” Charles asked.
“No, you can’t.” Max answered instead. “Your whole body is fucked up one way or another, no way in hell are we getting near that.”
“How about a careful one?” Charles pouted.
He honest to god pouted. Max couldn’t believe it. What a fucking dick, using his greatest power when he knew Max was powerless against it.
“I think it’s only my left side that’s broken. If you hug me from the right, it should be alright.”
Fine. Right side it was.
Max went first, because Jordan refused to do it if she wasn’t sure it was one hundred percent safe and pain-free to do so.
It wasn’t pain-free exactly. Max felt the way Charles’ body tensed and his breath hitched as he carefully hugged him, but neither of them said a word. Jordan needed that hug more than she was willing to admit. Charles needed it, too, if he was being honest.
So, after some more encouragement from both of them, Jordan carefully laid her head on Charles’ shoulder, curling against the side of his body with the utmost care. She didn’t breathe for the first few seconds, but when Charles put his arm around her, she relaxed again.
It’s how she fell asleep a while later. Charles followed soon after. And then Max, who’d pulled a chair next to the bed and laid his head down on the bed, one arm wrapped around his husband’s waist and the other slotted along his daughter’s back.