Chapter Text
Sochi 2016, Qualifying
“And that’s red flags, Nico, red flags. Debris on track right outside the pitlane exit. Session isn’t likely to resume, return to the pits, please.”
Nico curses. He could have put it on pole if he had time for another lap. He curses again when he realizes Lewis is on pole for the race.
He mutters an affirmative to his race engineer, and Tony continues. “And that’s Lewis who went into the wall at Turn 1.” Nico immediately narrows his eyes under his helmet, pulling into the pitlane smoothly. On purpose, is the first thought that passes through his head. It was on purpose. Lewis couldn’t handle Nico winning the first three races of the season.
Nico hops out of the car, pulling his helmet off as he goes.
He passes by a few mechanics in the garage, nodding at them, and staunchly avoids the fistbump with the resident ghost — an engineer that had died back in Fangio’s prime. He can see the other Mercedes from where he stands, halfway into the wall at Turn 1, and nearly snorts. That’s the second front wing replacement in two race weekends, for Lewis. Toto won’t be happy.
The smirk dies on his face when he sees the TV, a white number one next to Lewis’s name. On purpose, a voice in his head whispers.
It doesn’t matter. He’ll be pulling into the first place spot this time tomorrow morning no matter whether Lewis was sabotaging or not.
“It wasn’t on purpose, obviously.”
Nico’s eyes snap back down, catching sight of Lewis. Lewis, leaning on the wall where the TV is mounted, arms crossed. Lewis, who should still be at Turn 1.
He looks the exact same as when Nico had seen him just ten minutes ago, before Q3, but perhaps lighter, sporting a grin as he tilts his head at Nico. “I can get pole fair and square, you know.” He’s a ghost.
Lewis Hamilton is a ghost.
No.
Nico blinks and suddenly he’s sprinting towards Turn 1, ignoring the surprised yelp of the mechanic he shoves past. He’s not dead, he is not fucking dead.
The marshals have already surrounded the car, and Nico pushes past them to see Lewis already out of the car, holding his helmet in his hands. His face twists in confusion for barely half a second of surprise before Nico is hurtling into him, throwing his arms around him. You’re not dead, you’re not dead, you’re not dead.
He’s warm and his heart is beating under his race suit in tandem with Nico’s own. Lewis is alive. Lewis isn’t dead. He’s not dead.
Nico can’t remember the last time he hugged him.
Lewis shoves him off after precisely three seconds, “What the fuck, man?”
Nico swallows, stepping back. He can see at least three cameras pointed in their direction. “I— you were…”
Lewis narrows his eyes, glancing around, likely clocking the same cameras Nico did. “Is this some mind game?”
“No.” Nico blinks rapidly. “No, it’s…” He saw his ghost. Shimmering and a little transparent. He knows what he saw. “I saw—” He feels like he’s going fucking insane.
“Spit it out!” Lewis is biting the inside of his mouth like he does when he’s confused, and Nico can feel his face heating up.
“I saw your ghost.” He swallows. “In the garage.”
He’s irritated now, shifting his helmet to his other hand. “Well clearly you didn’t, Nico. I’m quite alive.”
“I know what I saw,” Nico hisses.
Lewis rolls his eyes. “Wishful thinking, then.”
Oh, lovely. Nico’s irritated now too. “Did it seem like fucking wishful thinking, to you?” His face reddens further, but he’d rather be embarrassed than admit he was wrong. He just ran fifty yards to…well he doesn’t really know why. Doesn’t even remember making the decision to go. He just blinked and he was running.
A marshall says something to Lewis and he steps aside, seemingly not having an answer.
The ghost appears again, leaning against the sidepod, whistling lowly. “Damn, Nic, you know that counted as crossing the track during a live session, right? Is that a penalty point or a fine?”
The ghost shimmers in the sunlight, and Nico can read the name of the sponsor plastered onto the sidepod through his body. Three feet to the left, Lewis stands, arms crossed and annoyed and alive. Nico resists the urge to check, to feel Lewis’s heart beating under his hand.
“...A fine.”
“What the hell are you looking at?”
Lewis — the ghost — snorts. “You’re lucky, then. But I’ll be catching up to you soon either way!” He pauses, blinking slowly in thought. “I guess this is better. More fair, yeah?” Fair. Lewis the ghost was talking about fairness.
Nico swallows, wrenching his gaze back to Lewis, the one who was looking increasingly concerned, glancing between Nico and his car rapidly. “You don’t see him?”
“...No.”
— — —
Round: 04. Sochi
Driver(s): Nico Rosberg
Team: Mercedes
Session: Qualifying
Allegation: Appendix L, Chapter IV, Article 4(d) of the FIA International Sporting Code: Crossing track during live session
Outcome: €5,000 fine
Reason: Driver ran across track after red flags were imposed, but not all cars had yet returned to pitlane. Did so out of “concern” for teammate and car 44. Stewards note doubtful reasoning.
— — —
Toto says a singular “Nico, that is not possible,” followed by a “Nico, are you sure you’re alright,” followed by a shared glance with Lewis that Nico rolls his eyes at, before Toto informs him exactly what to tell the interviewers. He doesn’t even mention the new front wing Lewis would need.
He then sets a meeting with the team doctor, followed by one with the team Witch, directly after interviews and Nico’s meeting with the Stewards.
— — —
Drivers: 1 - Lewis Hamilton (Mercedes), 2 - Nico Rosberg (Mercedes), 3 - Sebastian Vettel (Ferrari).
[02:02 - 02:43]
Q: Nico, could you tell us a little about what happened after the red flags?
NR: Yeah sure. [He glances at LH somewhere a little past LH] The crash looked a lot worse than it was, so I was, uh, I was concerned as to what had happened.
Q: So you…wanted to see for yourself?
NR: …Yes. I thought it’d be safe as it was during a red flag, but I had not realized that not all of the cars were back yet.
Q: …Alright. Lewis? What did you think?
LH: I, uh, yes. That was kind of Nico to be, uh, concerned. For me.
[NR looks past LH once again]
— — —
The doctor clears Nico of having a head injury. The meeting takes, all in all, about five minutes, for all of which Lewis the Ghost flips through a magazine idly, and Nico stews in the fact that Toto thinks he’s seeing things. Lewis the Ghost follows Nico out of the room where Toto and Lewis the Alive wait, the four of them walking in silence to where the team Witch, Riya, set up shop.
The room is filled with incense, with tapestries covering the walls and a fuzzy rug on the floor, despite it being a room that will be taken down and transported to Barcelona in two days.
Riya’s…nice, he supposes. He only really sees her once at the beginning of each season, and can’t really recall a time where he’s had to see her during a race weekend. She’s a little out there, as most witches tend to be, but doesn’t freak him out like the one he used to go to during karting did. Mrs. Lisabeth, if he remembers correctly. Lewis could do an insane impersonation of her voice, having Nico in stitches before each assessment.
“Welcome in, welcome in,” Riya says, and for a brief moment he’s surprised it isn't the rasp of Mrs. Lisabeth. He cuts a glance to Lewis, who’s already looking at him before turning hastily. “So what seems to be the issue, Mr. Wolff? Your email was brief.”
It feels a bit like he's a child at the doctors. “I’m seeing Lewis’s ghost,” he cuts in, before Toto can speak. “Who is alive. Obviously.”
Riya assesses Lewis as if she needs to make sure of the fact. “Well, it’s rare, but ghosts can exist of people who are alive. In a sense, at least. I suppose it depends on your definition of alive.” She looks at Nico pointedly. “Is Lewis in the room with us?”
Ghost Lewis blinks to attention. “I am.”
It takes Nico an extra second to remember no one else can hear him, nodding to the futon. “He is.”
“And can he hear us? Or just you?”
“He can hear you.”
Riya breaks out into a smile, addressing the vague area around the futon. “Then hello, Mr. Hamilton! I hope you’re well!”
Lewis the Ghost hums. “She’s nice.” He clears his throat theatrically, repeating I hope you’re well in the exact way Mrs. Lisabeth would have. Nico coughs to hide his laugh. Lewis, the alive one, stares at the futon blankly.
— — —
The rest of the meeting leaves him with not many more answers than he came in with. He is assured, however, with the knowledge that he isn’t going insane, a piece of information that has Lewis sighing in disappointment.
Riya had asked him if Ghost Lewis was any different than the real one, and Nico had spent a solid five minutes trying to explain it, apart from how he was…nicer. It had taken until Nico repeated what he had said, about the two of them winning fairly, for Toto to stop looking at him like he was crazy and to start believing him. She had nodded, gaze switching between him and Lewis, before asking “What do you know about split realities?”
Split realities. She had continued on to explain how the reality they lived in had split once he and Lewis’s relationship had…soured. A version of Lewis had died. The ghost following Nico around is the result.
“Okay,” Nico had said, slowly, after Riya had finished explaining. “How do I get rid of him?” Lewis cut him a glance, staying silent. He had barely spoken a word for the past hour.
Riya, for the first time, looked troubled. “Nico, this is something you and he have to figure out. He’s appeared now for a reason. He’s latched onto you for a reason. In the meantime, the usual should be fine. Candles and daily cleansing, and speak to him normally.”
“Candles and cleansing,” Nico muttered aloud. “Candles and fucking cleansing.” Toto and Lewis were long gone, and Nico was grabbing the last of his things from his driver room. He steps out, glancing at the door across from him, inscribed with a silver Lewis Hamilton.
Without letting himself hesitate, he knocks on the door. There was a time he never even bothered knocking.
“Yeah?” Calls Lewis, and Nico takes that as his queue to open the door. The look on Lewis’s face neatly melts into irritation. “What?”
Nico keeps himself from quipping back about attitudes and tones. “You know where I can find candles?”
Lewis huffs. “No, Nico, I don’t know where you can find candles. When have you ever seen a candle in the motorhome?”
“Jesus, a no would have sufficed,” Nico sneers. “You could try to care a little more. It’s your goddamn ghost.” Ghost Lewis relaxes on the massage table, kicking his feet.
Lewis clenches his jaw. “That ghost is not me. Get it straight.”
Nico slams the door on his way out.
— — —
Sochi 2016, Race
Nico sees Ghost Lewis again the next morning, before the race. Ghost Lewis seems to be getting ready for his own race, making quips to Nico about how he’ll win that go unanswered. The ghost is not deterred, however, doing his usual stretches and fitting his HANS on. Conveniently, in the minutes before Nico hops into his car, the iridescent shimmer in his peripheral vision that Nico has quickly grown used to is nowhere to be seen.
Nico slides into first place once Lewis locks up around lap 28, and a bad safety car restart — through no fault of Nico’s — sets him in sixth place. Lewis makes it back to fourth, missing out on the podium by just three tenths.
Nico doesn’t see him until he returns to the garage, after his podium celebration, and therefore doesn’t see Ghost Lewis, either. He runs into the both of them, sulking identically on the floor, and stops in his tracks at the sight. Both Lewis’s look up in unison.
His— The real Lewis hisses a “what?” at him. The ghost version just sighs. “Good race, man. Fuck, if it wasn’t for that safety car I would’ve been on the podium. Definitely would’ve been second, too.” With you. The words go unsaid. On the podium with you. It’s…preposterous. Laughable, really, that Lewis would ever think that. Lewis would rather die than lose out on first place. Nothing but first place is ever enough.
But Lewis had once told him, deep into the night in a shared hotel room, “Obviously I want to win. But if anyone has to beat me…I’m glad it’s you.”
“I— thanks. And yeah, you would have.” It’s the truth.
Lewis narrows his eyes, glancing at the space on his right. “What’s he saying?”
And suddenly Nico no longer wants Lewis to care about anything to do with Nico’s ghost. He wants to keep this to himself.
“None of your business,” he shoots back, and Lewis returns to ignoring him, 47 points behind him in the Championship.