It's funny how in times of tragedy, the world seems to just stand still.
Red flag. The race was over, at least for now, but the pain that they were about to go through was only just about to begin. There were thousands of people here, and yet it was eerily quiet. Penelope's ears were ringing, her heart beating so quickly it felt like it might suddenly stop. Every time she blinked, she saw something new. She wasn't in the garage anymore, surrounded by chaos. She was at a dinner party, a handsome man holding his hand out to her, asking her to accept his offer. She was sat in the passenger seat, driving through Monaco, hands in the air and wind in her hair. She was running through a crowd at Nationals, his arms outstretched, holding a bunch of red roses, waiting for her. She was dancing at a wedding, his hands on her waist, telling her that he'd chose her over anything, that they'd always be together. She was sitting outside a party, being given a ring, a promise made between them that one day it would be for real. She was crying in his bathroom, she was begging him to forgive her, she was thanking the gods that he did. She was sitting in a hospital room, her only company the beeping of the monitor, only it wasn't her brother Frankie in the bed - it was Charles.
Suddenly, she felt someone grab her shoulders, jolting her back to reality. "Hey!" Jasper said sternly, shaking her as she blinked the vision from her mind. "Penelope, snap out of it. Come on, hey!"
"What happened?" she choked, hoping that what she knew to be true was some kind of cruel nightmare.
"Charles crashed. He's...he's still in the car. They're trying to get him on the radio."
"He's not talking?" she said, her voice breaking at the thought. She pushed her way past Jasper, her fingers seizing Will's arm. "Is he okay?"
Will didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the screen in front of him, not moving from the pictured wreckage of the car. Maybe it was just her brain finally going crazy, but Penelope could've sworn she saw tears in his eyes.
"Will!" she said again. "Please. Please tell me."
"There's nothing," he said finally, the words slicing through them all like an axe. "I'm sorry."
With trembling fingers, Penelope pulled her headphones up to her ears, listening intently. Normally, this would be how she'd listen to Charles's radio during the race, a direct link to him. A few times, she'd even spoken to him, sending encouragement or notes of congratulations after a success. Now though, all she heard was static.
"Charles," the voice of Charles's race engineer said over the radio. "Let us know that you're okay."
There was no answer. Penelope felt something inside her threaten to break, the sound of Pascale's crying eating away at her bit by bit. Lorenzo cradled his mother while Arthur stood with his head in his hands, for once without a playful comment or remark. Jasper tried to comfort Penelope, but she pushed him away. She didn't need wrapping in cotton wool, she needed answers. She needed to know that he was okay.
"Charles," Xavi repeated. "Are you okay, question?"
Once again, there was no response. Penelope's fingers trembled as she wiped away a tear with the back of her hand, hoping no one would see. There weren't enough words to describe the fear she was feeling. Will's hand shot out, grabbing hers and holding on, making it impossible for her to let go. Together, they waited, all of them unable to move or breathe or process what was happening.
It felt like forever that they were stood there, waiting for any sign or any scrap of news. It could have been hours or minutes or seconds - it all felt the same. Then, all of a sudden, someone at the back of the garage stood up from their seat, pointing to the screen.
"There!" the mechanic yelled, pointing to the car that was now surrounded by stewards and emergency responders. "He moved, I saw it!"
Instantly, a wave of nausea-ridden hope hit Penelope like a train, making her clutch her stomach. Her eyes scoured the video, looking for any sign that he might be right. Then, so minimal she thought she might be seeing things, she saw it too.
"His arm!" she cried, tugging at Will's shirt, begging him to notice. "Look! He's moving, he's right!"
She could tell at first that Will didn't believe her. He thought she was hysterical, seeing things that weren't there in the desperate hope that they were. But as he watched, his eyes suddenly went wide. It was like she could see his brain moving, ideas jumping from one point to another, until he hit his hand against the desk, frantic.
"The radio!" he yelled, waving his arms to get the attention of Xavi and the pit wall. "The crash jolted the button! It's not turning on, Charles has to press the emergency shift! Tell him to hit the emergency shift!"
"Charles," Xavi's voice said over the radio, Penelope clinging on to every single word. "We can't hear you. If you can hear me, press emergency shift on the wheel. The radio is off. Pressing the radio button won't work."
Silence. Every second that passed felt like an age. "Charles, please press emergency shift if you can hear us. Are you okay, question?"
There was no response. Pascale began to wail again, clinging onto her son as she mourned the other. Team members had gathered around, all wearing the same sad expression, their hats in their hands as a sign of respect. Will put his hand on Penelope's arm, eyes full of pity, trying to shield the screen from her view so she didn't have to watch.
"I'm so sorry, P," he said, his hands trembling. "I'm so sorry."
Normally, Penelope was a pretty pessimistic person. She worried about every detail of every little thing she did. She wasn't the type of person to ever see the glass half full, or have hope where others didn't. Yet, just as everyone else had given up on Charles, she felt something in the pit of her stomach telling her that it wasn't time for them to say goodbye just yet. They'd always a special bond. In her heart, she felt that if something had really happened to him, she'd know. She didn't have that feeling yet. "Just wait," she insisted, wrestling Will to let her past. "Just give him a minute."
Will and Jasper exchanged a look, like how you'd regard a grieving widow swearing that her husband wasn't really dead and he'd rise from the grave any second, the whole thing an elaborate joke. "P, maybe we should sit down, wait for news-"
"Just listen to me!" she pleaded, her fingers crossed like a little girl praying for Santa to visit on Christmas Eve. "I saw him move, okay, I saw it! I'm not crazy! I saw him move!"
"P, please," he said, voice cracking as he tried to hide the tear that slid down his cheek. "Charles is-"
"Get off of me!" she said. "Tell them to try again. Tell them to say it again!"
"I can't-"
"Yes you can! He'll be scared, okay, strangers pulling him out of the car, so tell them to try again!"
At the root of things, Will had no obligation to say yes. He was an employee, this was his job, and Penelope was just the girlfriend of a driver. All of the teaching he'd been given on how to handle friends and family in moments of grief told him never to listen, to remove them from the scene and wait for officials to deliver the bad news. This went against everything he knew, and yet when he looked at her and thought about all they'd been through...how could he say no?
"Wait here," he told her, voice firm. "You understand?"
"Yes," she gasped, drying her eyes and clutching her hands together as though she were in prayer. "Yes, I promise."
Will nodded, hesitating for just one quick second before running towards the pit wall, leaving Jasper to hold Penelope, partly for comfort, and partly to make sure she kept her promise and didn't move. He didn't need to worry about that. Penelope would have stayed there for the rest of her life, dust collecting on her hair, if it meant a small chance of Charles being okay.
It took Will a lot of persuading. Mattia disapproved, it was clear to see, but this wasn't one of his games. Mattia might have tortured Penelope for fun, but deep down he cared about Charles at least somewhat. He wanted him to be okay just as much as everyone else.
"Charles," a different voice said over the radio, making Penelope's breath catch in her throat. It wasn't Xavi talking, it was Will. "Hey, mate, it's Will. If you can hear me, press the emergency shift button for the radio and let us know you're alright. Everyone's here mate, people that love you, and they all want to know you're okay."
Penelope closed her eyes, blocking out everything else except from his voice.
"They're all waiting for you, man. Your mom, your brothers, Penelope. Let us know you're okay."
They waited five more seconds, the words only met with static. Will took off his headphones, shaking his head. To him, it was over. He wasn't there.
Then something happened.
"Ah," Penelope's favourite voice groaned over the radio, coughing like the impact had winded him. "Shit."
Instantly, Penelope felt her knees buckle. If Jasper hadn't been holding her, she would've collapsed. Pascale was still crying, but Lorenzo was smiling now, kissing his mother's cheek as he told her that Charles was okay.
Xavi had taken over communications now, the emergency teams still trying to access the car on track. "Are you okay, Charles?"
He didn't answer the question. Before their eyes, it was clear he was moving now, trying to get the car back on track. "I can't go into throttle!" he complained, voice cracking. "It won't work!"
"Charles, don't worry about the car," Mattia added, his presence like a jump scare on the radio. "Most important thing is that you're okay."
Charles didn't seem to be listening. His voice was so full of distress that it hurt. Penelope wasn't even sure he could hear them, or wanted to. When things went wrong, he tended to shut everything else out. The only thing on his mind right now would be trying to save his race, even though it was one hundred percent over.
"The throttle!" he cried again, slamming his hands against the wheel. His breath was coming in heaving gasps, like he couldn't calm down or stop himself from crying. He screamed, a sound so full of heartbreak and devastation that it stayed with Penelope forever. "Nooooooo!"
Penelope took off her headphones. She didn't need to hear any more.
When she looked up, she found Arthur's eyes on her. He'd lost his normal confident aura. Right now, he was just a scared little boy afraid for the safety of his brother. On instinct, the only thing she could think to do was hug him.
"It's okay, Arthur," she whispered, hoping the words sounded more convincing than they did in her head. "He's okay."
"You don't understand, Nellie. This just cost him the championship. He won't be okay anymore."
Penelope just nodded, hugging him again so that she wouldn't have to look him in the eye. Deep down, she knew he was right. "I'll handle it, I promise. I have to go. I have to be with him."
"Go," Arthur urged. "We'll look after mum."
There wasn't time to say anything else. The car engine was off and Charles had been lifted out of the car, making his way back towards the paddock. His helmet was still on, hiding his expression, but Penelope could tell it wasn't good. There was no reality in the multiverse where this was good.
The pit wall were the first to greet him. He just pushed past, ignoring Mattia's attempt to embrace him. There was nothing that could calm him down, nothing that could quell his anger until he saw her. For a second, he stopped, motionless. Then, he carried on.
"Charles!" Penelope called, running after him. "Charles, wait, please!"
"Penelope, not now, please," he said, making it to his drivers room. He tried to close the door, but she caught it at the last moment, holding it open. "Please, I can't face you right now. Just leave me alone."
"Are you okay?" she asked, bottom lip quivering. "It was a big crash, Charlie, you must have been scared-"
"Please, just stop," he snapped, shaking his head.
"Let me see you," she begged. "I need to know that you're okay, alright, just talk to me for a minute-"
In a rugged move, he pulled the helmet from his head, revealing red eyes and a frown so furious that it sent a chill down her spine. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling like he couldn't get enough air. His skin was pale, eyes bloodshot. To tell the truth, he looked so close to death that it was as though she was looking at his ghost.
"Are you fucking happy?" he growled, eyes so dark that they were almost black. "It's over, Penelope. I ruined everything."
She reached for him, their fingers touching before he pulled them away. With Charles, there was always a turning point, where things could go from bad to worse. Right now, she was standing on the cusp of it. "Come on," she pleaded, using her body weight to block the doorway as he fought to close the door again. "It's okay. It was just one mistake, it doesn't change anything-"
"Yes it does, Penelope!" he spat, pointing to the others who were all pretending to be very preoccupied with work and absolutely not listening to what was being said between them. "You wouldn't understand, because this isn't your life! But guess what? This is mine, and I just fucked any chance of winning the championship."
"I know it feels that way right now-"
"Don't do that," he warned, no sense of affection in his words or his eyes. "Don't try to talk me down. Nothing matters anymore. If I make mistakes like that, then I don't deserve any of this."
"Don't talk like that," she said, swallowing the lump at the back of her throat. "You don't have to talk to me, that's fine. But you have to talk to someone."
Charles opened his mouth to talk, but he stopped, grabbing the doorframe like he was going to fall. Penelope's heart skipped a beat, tasting bile. "Just leave," he mumbled, breathing getting even more out of control than before. "Get out of here, Penelope. I don't deserve...all of this was for nothing. Everything I did...I did to you was for nothing."
Penelope frowned, her hands grabbing his arms. This time, he let her touch her, closing his eyes as though he had nothing left to live for. His skin was hot to the touch. "Charlie," she said, trying to get his attention. Her hands moved to rest on his cheeks. "You're not making any sense. Look at me."
"I'm sorry Nellie," he managed, practically gibberish. "I didn't want to. He made me do it."
Frantic, Penelope pushed his hair back, trying to get him to respond. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, like he was running a fever. Shit. Something was wrong. "Help!" she called, his body limp now as he kept muttering the same sentence, like he'd lost all sense of reality. She wasn't sure where his mind was, but it wasn't here. "Stay with me, Charles, okay? You're gonna be fine. Just stay with me. Help, please, someone! I need a medic!"
For one fleeting second, he opened his eyes, staring straight into hers. His hand jerked out, grabbing hers. "Forgive me," he begged, coughing. "Forgive me."
Then, as Penelope screamed for help, his eyes rolled back and he fell to the floor, motionless.
***************************************
"We need to move him," the medic was saying, fitting an oxygen mask to Charles's face as Penelope sobbed beside him, clutching his hand so tightly that her knuckles were white. The medic checked his pulse, beckoning for his partner to hand him something from the cart. "Pulse is dropping. Prep the med centre for our arrival."
"Arrival?" Penelope said, staring at him with wide, teary eyes. "Where are you taking him?"
"He needs help, miss," the medic explained, a stretcher arriving beside them. "We have to take him to the med bay for tests. We'll do all we can."
"But he was fine!" she sobbed, clinging on as they lifted him onto the carrier. "He out of the car! He was meant to be okay."
"I need you to let go, Miss, so that I can help him okay?"
"I can't! I can't...I can't let him be alone."
"He won't be alone, I'll be with him the entire time. I promise I will. Is there someone who can wait with you?"
From the corridor, Will emerged, his face full of horror when he saw what was happening before him. Instantly, his response was down to fight or flight. He was so scared for Charles, but ultimately, he cared about Penelope enough to do what was best for her.
"Hey, come on," Will told her, gently putting his hands on her shoulders, picking her purse up off the floor so that she wouldn't forget it and panic later when she couldn't find it. "Come with me. I'm here, it's okay."
"I can't leave Charles," she whimpered, though she didn't push him away this time. Instead, she clung to him the same way she clung to Charles, terrified of letting go and being alone.
"I know," Will said, his exterior calm even though his heart was shattering into a thousand pieces. "We're not gonna leave him. You and me, we'll follow the medical team to the centre. I'll be with you the whole time if you want me to be."
"I can't do this, Will. I can't."
"Yes you can. But you have to let them help Charles. Come on, P. Come on."
For a fleeting moment, she looked between Will and Charles, tears rolling down her cheeks. Bringing her boyfriends hand to her lips, she kissed his knuckles in way of goodbye before letting him slip from her fingers, the medical team immediately taking him away. Will helped her up, holding her as they followed, making sure she was alright. He stole a bottle of water from Luca's desk, conveniently on the way through the garage, forcing her to drink some. The last thing he needed was another person he cared about collapsing in his company.
"He said something," Penelope told him, staring blankly ahead. "Before he passed out. He said he was sorry."
Will swallowed, rubbing her back. Security swarmed around them, some of them holding boards to block Will and Penelope from the view of the paparazzi following them. "Maybe it was about the crash, like he was saying sorry for it happening. Or maybe he has a concussion. It's probably nothing."
"Yeah," she said glumly. "Maybe."
"He'll be okay, P," Will promised. "It's probably just a concussion. Maybe bruising and shock. He'll...he'll be okay."
"You didn't hear what he was saying, Will. Even if he's okay physically, this will destroy him."
Will knew she was right. But he also knew that confirming it would only make things worse for her. Fortunately for him, there wasn't time. The security guard stopped them at the door to the medbay, holding out an arm.
"Only one member of family is allowed to wait. I'm sorry, but it's the only way to stop press. One of you will have to wait outside."
Penelope's eyes went wide, but Will nudged her inside. "Will, I-"
"Go," he urged, the medics having already disappeared down the hallway. "It's okay. Look after Charles, I'll handle everything else. It'll be okay, P. Go."
There wasn't time to say no or to argue. Either she went, or she abandoned her boyfriend and there was no way she'd ever do that. Will watched her as she ran down the corridor, heels echoing against the laminate floor, like a timer counting down to disaster.
"Miss," the paramedic from before called to her, holding open a door to a room full of a whole bunch of medical equipment that looked extremely scary and extremely serious. "We'll do all we can. Someone will be with you soon." He took one look at her face and added, "I'm sorry. I really, really am."
Then he was gone, and Penelope was alone. There was no fighting it anymore. All the emotion she'd been holding back came out at once, great, heaving sobs racking her body as she slid down the wall. She collapsed in a pathetic heap on the floor, wishing this would all just end once and for all.
**********************************
One knock, two knocks, three. It took that many for him to finally say "Come in."
"Heyy," Penelope cooed, taking a breath, composing herself and putting on a smile while her back was turned. "Look, Luna! It's Daddy!"
In Penelope's arms, her puppy started to squirm, delighted at the sight of Charles even if he was sat in a hospital bed. As a precaution, he'd been told he had to stay in overnight, which had then become a few days. At Pascale's firm request, he'd been allowed to transfer to the recovery unit in Monte-Carlo, thinking he'd be more comfortable. Unfortunately, it hadn't made him any less miserable.
"Oh," he said, barely even smiling. "I didn't think dogs were allowed in."
Penelope kissed Luna's nose, trying to calm her. She wanted to run to Charles, not having seen him in ages, but he didn't seem interested. Plus, the bruising on his abdomen was still black and purple. An over-excited puppy jumping on him probably wouldn't help.
"They made an exception," she said, trying her best to lighten the mood. "I asked really nicely. She missed you, I think."
Charles nodded, reaching out a hand. Penelope lowered herself so that he could reach her, his fingers patting Luna's head with a mild affection. "Hi, Luna," he said, though his voice was flat, the usual animated tone missing. "Missed you, too. Good girl."
Penelope smiled at him, feeling strangely awkward. It was like she didn't know what to do around this version of him. In her arms, Luna was still wriggling, not showing signs of settling. It was a stroke of luck that a knock tapped at the door. "One second," she told Charles, "it's only Jane. I asked her to bring Luna's crate from the car."
Charles just nodded, turning to stare out of the window. He couldn't have seemed less interested if he tried. Penelope tried to brush it off. He was probably just tired and sore.
"Hey," Jane said, out of breath. She was holding a cage almost bigger than her, but as always, she was still smiling. "Sorry. It was harder getting this up the stairs than I first thought."
Penelope stared at her, blinking in disbelief. "Jane...why did you take stairs?"
"Oh, it's no problem," she insisted, "got to get my steps in! Anyway, you want me to leave this here? I can carry it inside, say hi to-"
"No!" Penelope said quickly, panicking. "It's fine! I....just leave it here. I'll carry it in. Thanks, Janie."
"Oh. Yeah, sure. No problem. Anything else you need?"
"No. It's fine. Thank you, you're amazing and I love you."
She gave Jane a speedy kiss on the cheek before closing the door, not waiting for a response. She didn't want anyone to see him like this. She didn't know how he'd react to anyone else. Gently, she placed Luna on the floor, luring her into the crate before closing the door. Luna just sighed, like she was disappointed, lying with her head on her paws and watching Penelope move to sit in the chair beside the bed.
"How you feeling?" she asked, trying to make the question sound as relaxed as possible.
All she got back was a single word. "Fine."
"I think she's found a second home at your mom's, you know. I picked her up this morning and she hardly wanted to leave. She's got her own room and everything."
Charles nodded, but she could tell he wasn't listening to a word she was saying. "That's nice."
"Yeah. Are you in pain or anything? I can get the nurse-"
"Penelope, I don't want to talk right now."
The words hurt her, but it didn't matter. He could be as mad as he wanted, but he was alive. He was alive. "Oh. Right. Well, did you see me on TV? I think my show was on, I thought it might have cheered you up."
"I don't want to talk," he repeated, picking up the remote. "All I want is to sit here and watch TV, okay?"
"Maybe you should get some sleep, Charlie-"
"What's the fucking point?"
Penelope frowned, confused. "Of what?"
"Of anything. What's the fucking point of anything."
"Okay, Charles. You want to be mad at someone? Fine. I'm not going anywhere, so you can stop trying to force me out."
"Whatever."
She didn't let it phase her. "I spoke to the doctor this morning. They said you can come home tomorrow. All we have to do is fill out the discharge forms. She said that you can go tonight, if you want. Everything came back clear, so that's good news."
"I can go home?"
"Yeah! Isn't that good news?"
"Yeah. Whatever."
"Oh, and your mom called. Again. Wanted to know how you were, so I said that you were tired and that the tests were a lot. She asked to see you-"
"No."
Penelope sighed, gripping the bedframe. "Charles, she's your mom-"
"I don't care. I don't want to see anybody except you."
"They're worried about you," she said quietly. He still wouldn't look at her. "I am too."
"I don't want them to see me like this."
"It was just a crash, Charlie," Penelope said, her fingers brushing his hair, revealing the nasty cut that gashed across his forehead. The doctors had explained that the impact was so intense that part of his helmet had shattered internally, giving him a concussion. He'd slammed against the wheel too, causing minor internal bleeding that was concerning but not fatal. The worst injury was to his confidence. "It wasn't your fault."
"Yes it was," he snapped, jerking his hand away as she tried to hold it. "It wasn't the car, or the team, or some masterplan to take me down by Mattia. It was me. I made the mistake, I did that! The crash wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for me. I can't face my family and have them look at me knowing that."
"No one cares about that, baby. They still love you the same-"
"Well they shouldn't. They shouldn't waste their time with me, and neither should you."
Penelope shook her head. "I'm here because I love you, Charles. I love you, even if you're out of the championship-"
"Stop it."
"I'll never love you any less. I don't care about anything that isn't you-"
"Stop it, Penelope!" he yelled, so sudden that it made Luna cry in the corner, curled up in her cage. "Just stop, okay! Stop giving me second chances. I don't deserve you. I'm a mess, my life is a mess. Take Luna and go."
"So what? You're just going to sit here and rot? Never go outside again? Never see anyone, never drive again?"
"Yeah," he said, fuse shortening again. "If I have to."
"This isn't like you, Charles. Two days ago, you were different."
Hurt flashed in his eyes, full of angst. "This is who I am now, Penelope! This is how I might always be. All the people who told me I could win, who told me I was this great hope for Ferrari were wrong. I had my chance, and I lost it. I did that, no one else. You don't like me like this, but this is who I am."
Penelope looked down at her feet. It felt like she'd gone back in time, fighting with a boyfriend who wasn't Charles. "I don't know what you want from me," she said quietly, nails digging into her palms. "You won't see anyone else. You want talk to me, but you clearly have some shit you need to work through. You're mad, but then you say you don't care. So which is it, Charles? You just going to walk away from every important thing in your life?"
"They're all ruined anyway. So might as well."
Penelope was tired of fighting. If she stayed, he'd just keep pushing her away. Charles was angry at himself and at the world. Nothing she could say or do right now would make any of that better. Leaving him to calm down was the best thing she could do. She wasn't his mother. She couldn't nurse him back to health if he didn't want to get better in the first place.
"Is that really what you want?"
"Yes."
"Okay. If you need anything-"
"I'll press the call button."
Penelope ran her tongue against the back of her teeth, trying not to lose her temper. A lot of emotions were swirling through her right now, and his behaviour was on the verge of driving her crazy. "Okay." She was about to leave, her bag in hand, but something stopped her. Giving up wasn't in her nature, after all. "Charles...you don't want to listen to me, that's fine. I know you're upset, and that you're in pain. But the crash already happened. You can't take it back. Don't destroy yourself for this. It's not worth it."
To no surprise, he didn't respond. He just kept staring out the window, huddled in the bed, a shell of the man she loved. Something in him was broken. She wasn't sure she could fix it.
**************************
For a while, she just wandered the halls, no where to go but no where to be, either. It didn't feel right to just go home. It was like having major deja-vu, remembering just a week ago when she'd been walking corridors just like this, hoping her brother would wake up. Life seemed to be toying with her like a cat teasing a mouse with its paws, forcing her into these situations and then holding her tail so that she couldn't leave.
Was it supposed to be this hard?
All the while, she couldn't stop replaying every little detail. She remembered what it felt like to watch him crash, to chase him afterwards. She remembered the way her heart stopped when he didn't respond, how scared she'd been. How she'd had to listen to his mother sob, the same way that her abuela had sobbed when they'd lost her grandfather all those years ago.
There was something else that bothered her, too. When he'd started to lose it, his brain struggling for oxygen, he'd started to blabber. Half of her mind told her it was probably nothing, but the logical side knew that it was never just nothing with Charles.
Everything I did to you was for nothing.
He mad me do it.
I'm sorry.
"Hey," a voice said suddenly, snapping her out of her spiral. When she looked up, her heart skipped a beat purely from shock. Pierre stood at the end of the corridor, holding a large bunch of flowers, a stuffed bear and a greeting card. He was wearing casual clothing, not race gear, but he looked worried, like being here made him sad. Maybe it was just seeing her again. "Penelope. What are you doing out here?"
"Oh," she stuttered, running a hand through her hair to try and save her appearance. She hadn't put on makeup since Sunday and she probably looked a total mess. Pierre didn't seem to look at her any differently, though. "I...I didn't know you were coming."
Pierre nodded curtly. "I wanted to see Charles. Though I know he probably won't want to see me. Let me guess, he's pretty miserable?"
At first, Penelope went to deny it, her first instinct to put on a united front. But as she opened her mouth, she thought 'fuck it.' No point in hiding the truth from someone who'd known him for longer than she had. "Yeah. Pretty much."
"Here," Pierre said, handing her the flowers and gifts. "The flowers and bear are for Charles. The card is for you."
She raised her eyebrows, shocked. "For me?"
"Yeah. I saw it in the giftshop. Has Lady Gaga on the front, and I thought it might cheer you up. Can't have been easy the last few days."
A warm feeling spread through her chest, and for the first time since the crash, Penelope actually smiled. "You...you remembered. I didn't think anyone would."
"Oh, it was nothing."
"Thank you," she said genuinely, still smiling.
"You're welcome."
"Thanks for the flowers as well. And the bear. He's very sweet, I'm sure Charles will love him. Maybe Luna might love him more, though. I think that's where he'll end up once she sees him."
"There's a funny story behind it, actually," Pierre mused, helping her to carry the gifts down the corridor and towards the room. Penelope left them with the nurses, saying a hundred thank yous before leaning against the wall to listen to him. "Whenever one of us would crash when we were kids, we'd buy them a stuffed bear from whatever hospital we were sent to."
"That's sweet," she said, wanting to say more but not knowing how. "You can see Charles if you want, but-"
"He'll probably bite my head off?"
Penelope sighed, giving him an exasperated smile. "Yep."
"He can be a real dick when he's angry."
"Tell me about it."
"Hey...listen, you can totally say no, but do you wanna grab a coffee? You look like you could do with one, and it's better than sitting here alone."
On a normal day, Penelope would've remembered the events of the past and said a very firm no. But as she stared at the white hospital walls, she did the very opposite. "Yes," she said, thankful for the distraction. "Please."
Pierre didn't try to win her over. He didn't put his arm around her, or make her feel uncomfortable. He just bought her a coffee and sat with her on a little bench outside the hospital, the sun shining down on them, the Monaco skyline just visible over the horizon. It was strangely peaceful, just the two of them, sort of enemies, sort of friends, content together. It's so funny how the smallest things in life can make amends.
"You're doing the right thing," he said eventually, watching the boats on the water. "Giving Charles space. He'll come round when he's ready."
Penelope stared down at her coffee, wishing the ground would swallow her up. "You didn't see him, Pierre. He doesn't want to see his mom, or his brothers. I brought Luna to see him today because I thought it would make him happy, but he didn't care. He's refusing to even let anyone else in the room."
"He trusts you," Pierre said, using tact. "More than anyone else. You've been through a lot together. In the old days, if he had a bad race or an accident, the only person he'd talk to about it was his dad. Then, when Herve passed, he learned to handle it alone. No one else was ever good enough, until you."
"Doesn't feel like it right now."
"I know. But he does want you around."
"Does he?"
"Yes. He just doesn't know how to tell you. He'll come around. Just be patient."
An idea sparked in Penelope's brain, fleeting and mostly futile. "Maybe...maybe you should talk to him. You know what it's like. You've been through it."
Pierre shook his head, looking sad. "Maybe before, that might have worked. But he doesn't want to know me anymore. And I know it might seem like you can't relate, but you can. Remember when you fell, didn't want to skate? Everything that you felt, he's feeling right now."
"I didn't...I didn't think about it like that."
"See?" Pierre said, nudging her side to make her laugh. "I'm good for something, at least."
"Thank you," she told him. "For coming. You didn't have to do all this."
"Ah, it was nothing. Listen, I should really be going. Tell Charles I stopped by."
"You could fix things between you if you tried," Penelope said, hoping that maybe by some miracle he'd agree.
Pierre shook his head, carrying that same sad look again. "Not yet. Maybe not ever, but definitely not yet. He knows what he needs to do first. Good luck, Penelope."
Disappointed, she watched him go, counting his footsteps along the path as she realised what she had to do next.
*************************************
This time, when she knocked, Charles answered.
"Come in," his voice drifted from inside. When she opened the door, Penelope found him sitting up in the bed, flicking through a small pile of printed pictures, his eyes glued to them.
"What do you have there?" Penelope asked, tucking her hair behind her ears to get a closer look. She went to sit in the chair, but Charles patted the bed, moving over for her to sit beside him. Surprised but not in a bad way, she did as she was told. He wrapped his arms around her, resting against his chest, the pictures in their lap.
"They were attached to the flowers," he explained, holding one out for her to see. "Get well soon messages from fans in Italy. A couple from home, too. Look, Marta and Ricciardo sent one. Joris, too. Those are my cousins with him, do you see?"
Penelope nodded, happy to see him happy. "They're sweet. Oh look! The little boy in that one." She pointed to a photograph of a boy who couldn't have been more than three, holding up a sign that read "Guarisci presto, il predestinato!"
Charles chuckled, his eyes lingering on the picture. "They want me to get better."
"They do," Penelope said quietly, placing her hands on top of his. He didn't let go. "So do I. There are so many people that love you, Charlie. You're more than just a racing driver to us."
Charles sighed, resting his head on her shoulder. He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck. "I know this is really scary for you," he said, placing the pictures down on the bed so that he could hold her hands.
"It's okay," she lied, "the most important thing is that you're okay."
"But I did that," he said, and as soon as she looked at him, she could see the guilt in his eyes. A thousand emotions were flooding through his veins, but the most prominent one right now? Guilt. "I keep thinking about earlier. I shouldn't of treated you the way I did. I'm sorry."
"Thank you. You went through something traumatic, I get it, but you can't talk to me like that again. I love you, Charles, but I won't let you treat me how Harry treated me."
"I never want to do that," he said, voice earnest. "And I am sorry. So, so sorry. About everything. Last thing I want is to cause you pain."
"Charlie, it's your job," she reminded, her body sinking back against his. "Risk is always going to be a part of it. I fall on the ice all the time. When I didn't want to do it anymore, you made me keep going because it's what I was born to do. You were born to race, baby." She took his hand, holding it up and pointing to his pinkie finger. It was strange seeing his hands without rings on, like the person she was touching wasn't really him, just a copy that had some details missing. "You have more talent in your little finger than most of the people in this town have in their entire bodies. Please. Trust me."
Charles brushed his thumb against her cheekbone, the way he had a thousand times before. This one felt different, though. It was as though he was seeing her for the first time since the crash, the darkness finally giving way to the light. "What if it isn't worth it anymore? What if everything else is more important? What if you're more important?"
"Charles, we've had this conversation before. You wanted to quit after Monaco, but you didn't."
"This was the second time I almost lost you because of racing, Nellie. How many more times are we gonna go through this? I can see it when I look at you, Nell. I don't want to feel like this forever."
"But you won't be racing forever. We'll have our peace, remember? You'll finish racing, I'll be done with skating. We're gonna move somewhere far away and have our family and a life somewhere."
"But what if we never get there?"
To tell the truth, Penelope felt sick at the thought. Every time Charles got into the car, she felt like someone was ripping out her heart and stomping on it again and again, lap after lap. Racing terrified her. The worst case scenario was always at the back of her mind. To have this conversation and argue anything other than 'stop racing and run away with me' was excruciating. Still, here she was, begging him to carry on. Why? Because love is about wanting the best for your partner, and putting the person you care about above yourself. She wanted him to be happy, even if it meant her being scared sick for the next fifteen years until the day he retired.
"We will. We will make it. Charles, you love racing-"
"But I love you more. I love you, Penelope. I can have another career, but I can't have another lifetime with you."
"But you don't need another lifetime, Charlie," she said gently, bringing his face to her so that she could kiss his cheek. He smiled at her touch. "We have this one. You and me, we're going to be fine."
Charles nodded, closing his eyes. His hands were shaking as he clutched hers, breathing starting to become more intense. Normally, he would talk back. Right now, he was silent.
"Charles," Penelope nudged, pulling herself up and sitting opposite him so that she could see him. "Hey. It's okay, look at me."
A moment passed where he didn't move. Eventually, when he opened his eyes, they were filled with tears. Instantly, Penelope reached for him, her hands on his arm. He was fighting it, but when he tried to speak, everything gave way.
"I don't want to die, Nellie."
"I know. But the doctor said you'll make a full recovery. We're going home tonight, remember? You're gonna be just fine."
"But it's over. It was right there, my chance to beat Max...I threw it all away. I'm not good enough. It's over."
Suddenly, everything about Charles began to slot into place. Earlier he'd pushed her away. Now, he was pulling her closer. But that's the thing, when people are hurting. They lash out and put on a brave face, but beneath it, they're begging you not to go. No matter how much we hate ourselves, we never really want to be alone.
Before her eyes, Charles Leclerc started to cry.
"Oh, Charles," she said, holding him as he broke down in her arms, sobbing into her chest. Cradling him as close to her as she could, she stroked his hair, letting him cry in this safe place where it was just the two of them, their little bubble of hospital isolation. She kissed the top of his head over and over again, crying her own silent tears that she hoped he wouldn't notice. They stayed like that for a long time, cuddled together until she felt his breathing slow and his crying stop, slipping into a gentle slumber while Penelope stared out of the window, crying until she had no more tears left to give anymore.
****************************
That night, Charles was discharged. They collected his things from reception, thanking the nurses and doctors before waving them goodbye. As much as she appreciated what they'd done for Charles, Penelope couldn't help but hope she never had to see any of them, or this place, ever again.
As Penelope wheeled Charles out of the hospital doors in one of those little flimsy, foldable wheelchairs you might find stuffed into a store cupboard somewhere, she felt a strange urge to laugh. The situation itself was far from funny. Charles was still in large amounts of pain, even though he was trying to hide it. The next race weekend was only a few days away. The team had been calling every few hours, trying to find out if he'd be ready to get back in the car come Friday morning. Things were extremely dire, yet here she was, stifling giggles as she pushed him down the path.
"What's so funny?" he grumbled, whistling to Luna to ensure she kept up pace. He had her leash in hand, occasionally giving her commands in French that Penelope had already told him she wouldn't understand. Funnily enough, when she spoke to her in Spanish (normally when she was doing something naughty and needed a good telling off) he told her the same thing. "You better not be about to try and push my chair over."
In truth, it was sort of just that. All of this just really reminded her of when she'd been in hospital herself while in Barcelona, being pushed around by him instead. He'd treated it like a go-kart race, and it just seemed hilarious to her that they were back in the same situation only with the roles reversed. "Sorry," she said, still chuckling. "I think I've finally lost my mind."
"Oh dear," he said, an idea sparking in his head, reaching for the keys that were dangling in her hand. "I guess that means I'll have to drive home."
With a light touch, Penelope slapped his hand away. "Not a chance. Make another comment about my driving and you'll be wheeling yourself home."
"You wouldn't leave me out here all alone, would you?"
Penelope put the breaks on, crouching down so they were level. She took his face into her hands, gazing into his eyes. "Just try me, Leclerc." Then, she stood back up, opening the car door and helping him up. Just as she was about to throw the wheelchair into the boot, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket.
From the passenger side, Charles raised an eyebrow. "Work phone?"
"No. Shit...it's Frankie. You mind if I-"
"No," he urged, putting his hand on her waist. "Course not. I can wait."
Penelope kissed him quickly, squeezing his hand. "Thank you." Charles nodded, watching her go as she quickly pressed accept, trying to still her heartbeat. "Hello?"
"Hey," Frankie's voice said on the other end of the line. Instantly, she felt relieved. He sounded healthy, or at least better than the last time they'd spoken. "Sorry, is this a bad time?"
"No, no. It's fine. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I'm all good. How's Charles?"
"Just got discharged," she sighed, leaning against the wall. A sudden wave of exhaustion rolled over her. "He's feeling a little better. Thanks for checking in, Frankie."
"Always. Listen...I was actually calling to say thank you."
Penelope's mouth fell open. "For what?"
"For paying my hospital bill. Went to do it this morning, but they told me it was taken care of. But I need you to send me the invoice, seriously, because there's no way I'm letting you do that."
Feeling like she had brain fog, Penelope just shook her head. "I don't know what to tell you. That wasn't me."
"Oh, come on Nell. Don't try and be a hero-"
"I'm not," she protested. "I didn't pay that."
"Well, someone did. It said private, so I just figured it was you. Maybe it's just my guardian angel. Or that sugar daddy that I met on-"
"Okay!" Penelope announced, cutting him off before the conversation went down a different path. "Thanks for that image, Frankie. I'm gonna go now and try and forget all about it."
"Always like to entertain you. Bye, Nell."
"Bye Frankie."
When she wandered back to the car, Charles was waiting for her. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah," she said, trying not to give too much away. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Oh. Uh, sure."
"Did you pay Frankie's hospital bill?"
"That's a weird thing to-"
"Just answer me, Charlie. Please."
"No," he said simply, wincing as he kissed her. "Why, is something wrong?"
"Someone covered it," she explained. "Just checking it wasn't you."
Charles smiled at her, that classic smile that made her stomach flutter. "Would I lie to you?"
"No," she blushed, putting the car in gear. "Ready to go home?"
"Always. Especially because I'm doing it with you."
**************************