Italics is French
Underlined is Commentary
"I think I've figured out what we're seeing here." Martin Brundle's voice echoes from the tv in the living room of the Lewis household in England.
"Are you seeing something I'm not?" David Croft laughs.
"With Red Bull." Martin sighs. "All three races this season have been won by one driver."
"Francesca Lewis." Crofty cuts in. "An absolutely amazing driver I must say."
"I think she's taking back what was supposed to be hers last year." Martin continues. "Because Max can come nowhere near to her."
"Last year we all thought we'd see Francesca as champion...then Red Bull made some, lets say controversial decisions."
Friday practice for the Azerbaijan Grand Prix.
Francesca Lewis had spent whatever free time she had basking in the sun and getting back into the world of racing after spending the gap between Australia and Baku doing a multitude of different things: being in Australia and Monaco with the likes of Heidi Scott and going to France to see the French side of her family she had not seen since Christmas.
The Thursday media day had been very chaotic between the Red Bull teammates, interrupting the interviews of different teammates and screaming 'sharing is caring' throughout the Red Bull motorhome all day. At one point they had even kidnapped Charles from Ferrari and hidden above the Red Bull hospitality until Christian found him and they had return the Ferrari driver to Ferrari - much to the distaste of the three drivers.
After the first practice session of the day, Francesca Lewis stood in the media pen with Kaitlyn at her side. She was attempting to do an interview but kept getting distracted by Fernando next to her who had seemed to forget he was in fact forty-two years old was acting like he was back in his twenties again.
"People want to know," The interviewer catches Francesca's attention again. "Will we be seeing you as champion this year?"
"You can speculate but I can't give you a straight answer." Francesca replies.
"Are you going to try and take back what was supposed to be yours last year?"
"Of course I am. Your biggest rival is your teammate and I'm going to try and beat Max in every way possible."
"And there's no hard feelings from last year between you and Max?"
"There was never hard feelings between me and Max, we were just following team orders."
"Thank you, Francesca."
Francesca smiles at the woman before stepping away, Fernando turned his attention to her and beckoned her over, causing a laugh to escape her lips as she stood next to the Spaniard.
"You want to talk to a villain? Talk to her." He gestures to the Red Bull driver.
"Awh, your not the villain of the story anymore, Nando?" Francesca pouts.
"I'm not the one refusing to give anyone else a race win am I?" He smirks. "Take it back, Fran."
"Planning on it." She grins, resting her elbow on his shoulder considering the height difference was rather dramatic between them. "People wanted a Charles Leclerc villain era but instead their getting a Francesca Lewis villain era."
"And I think its much better." Fernando grins. "I hand you my trophy and crown you the villain of the paddock for the rest of the season."
Francesca takes the invisible trophy from his hand before bowing down. She then stands up straight and hoists the trophy into the air, looking to Fernando who was struggling to hide his laughter before breaking down in laughter herself and dropping her hands to her side. Fernando, being his usual chaotic self, gasped dramatically and dropped to the floor to scoop up the broken pieces of an invisible trophy whilst Francesca lost it from next to him.
"Does Red Bull have space for a broken trophy?" He asks with a grin.
"We won't have space for anything if I don't stop winning." Francesca smirks. "Casual flex."
"That hit me right here." Fernando gestures to his heart.
"Come on, Nando. We're all waiting for your win."
"I can't win if your ten seconds ahead of everybody!"
"I'll make an exception, I'll let you past and then keep Max at bay."
"Deal."
"In Spain?"
"Lets agree to every weekend."
"I thought you weren't the villain anymore!" Francesca laughs. "Don't steal my wins."
Fernando grins cheekily causing Francesca to roll her eyes, but their conversation was cut short by their PR managers asking them to continue with their media duties leaving Francesca to reluctantly leave her conversation with the childish Spanish driver to move to the next interviewer waiting to get her opinion.
🏎️💨
"Do you ever wish you could go back in time?"
Max Verstappen turned to his teammate with a confused look on his face.
"Do you?" He questions.
"I wish I could go back to last year."
"What part?"
"Specifically? France. I wouldn't have been such a push over."
"Would you take back your words to Lewis in Hungary?" Max asks with a grin.
"Nah, he deserved that." Francesca sighs. "That was one dangerous fucking move."
"Seb went ballistic at him." Max laughs.
"And Fernando - that was the first time I've ever seen Fernando not being childish."
Max chuckled at the memory whilst Francesca grinned, adjusting her sunglasses on her head. The two Red Bull teammates were taking as much advantage as they could have the downtime between practice sessions by laying on the sofas on top of the Red Bull motor home.
"Are you still annoyed at Christian for what he said after France last year?" Max questions.
"Why do you think I won't let you win." She grins.
"Let's make a pact - if we're given team orders we take a leaf out of Seb's book and ignore them." Max says.
"Deal." Francesca turns her head towards him.
"You gotta win this year, Fran. This is your shot, no way in hell the team are going to destroy it this year. They owe you that."
"Don't let Christian or Helmut hear you say that."
"God no." Max laughs.
"Sometimes I wonder why they signed me."
"What do you mean?"
"After Danny left, they signed me. I think they thought I'd be shit in F1 or that I'd play to the role of being a second driver."
"I'm glad you didn't."
"So am I. But at least we won't turn into Brocedes in the future."
Their moment of slight peace was interrupted when they were called for the final practice session of the day. Max threw his arm over Francesca's shoulders as they departed their positions and made their way back towards the Red Bull garage, still laughing and talking as they reminisced on the year before.
Francesca Lewis loved to drive certain tracks. You had France, her home race as she raced underneath the French flag and had spent eight years of her life living in the country, the classics of Silverstone and Monaco, the speed trap that was Monza but there was something about Baku that always had her heart soaring.
Maybe it was nostalgia, Baku had always been a good race for her. She had never not finished the race on the podium.
Driving the Baku street circuit just gave her a sense of emotion that no other track could give.
"I am stupid, I am stupid."
"Please stop quoting Leclerc every time you pass the castle."
Her laughter echoed through the radio, annoying Hugh during sessions was common Francesca Lewis practice. And being in Baku with the iconic radio of Charles Leclerc in 2019 still being the main source of banter between the drivers even four years later was the best way to do it.
"Sorry Hugh, you know I have to."
"I know." Her engineer breaths out. "And box, box."
"Those words bring Charles Leclerc nightmares you know."
Hugh Bird couldn't help but laugh in response.
It might have been a whole new season, but the controversy of the year before had not been forgotten by drivers or fans of the sport.
As Fernando Alonso said, Francesca Lewis had become the villain of the sport now.
The fans wanted a Charles Leclerc villain era.
But instead, they have been given the luxury of a Francesca Lewis villain era instead.
Both practices she had held P1 all for herself and as the clocked finally ticked down to 00:00 it seemed that she was on track for yet another grand slam. Max had been close behind her but what was confusing was the sudden appearance of two scarlet Ferrari's fighting for that P1 and P2 space.
"Maybe we can finally have some fun this race." Francesca hums.
"I think you and Max are the only two drivers on the grid who would complain about winning all the time, Fran."
"No, I will never complain about winning."
"Sure."
"That was very sarcastic, Hugh."
"I thought sarcasm was your middle name."
"No, seriousness is."
"Yet you never seem to use it."
"To quote Lando: don't want to."
Francesca returned to the garage, climbed out once it was safe and removed her helmet. Her smile was wide and she had a childish skip in her step as she moved across the pit lane to the pit wall and placed her arm around Hugh's shoulders, giving him an innocent grin when he removed his headphones and turned to face her.
"Someone's happy." He raised an eyebrow.
"Someone is leading the championship." She shrugs. "Can a girl not smile."
"This has nothing to do with Pierre?" He teases.
"You as well?!" She gasps. "I honestly cannot tell anyone anything anymore."
"Sorry Fran." Hugh laughs.
"I'll have words with Niki." She sighs, shaking her head as her engineer laughed again.
"Maybe Max as well, he's not exactly quiet about the situation on the radio."
"Tell him to stop talking about Franierre during practices." GP cuts in. "It's rather annoying when he starts singing 33 Max Verstappen but changes it to Franierre instead."
Francesca let out a loud laugh, coincidentally as the man in question wondered over to the pit wall.
"What are you laughing at?" Max asks.
"You annoying GP." Francesca says. "The poor man didn't sign up for that."
"How many times has she quoted Charles today, Hugh?" Max asks.
"Probably about a hundred." Hugh replies.
"You gotta be serious, Fran." GP cuts in.
"Serious is my middle name." She waves a hand.
"Your just like Fernando." Max laughs. "Refuse to be serious in any form of situation."
"Why be serious when you can laugh?" Francesca shrugs.
"You're incapable of being serious aren't you?"
"Yes."
Max and the two race engineers all laughed at Francesca's words as a grin broke out on her face. Leaning against the side of the pit wall, Francesca cast her gaze around the pit lane where all the drivers were seemingly emerging from their garages and locating their friends like they were stray dogs.
"Searching for a certain someone?" Hugh grins.
"Oh shut up." Francesca pushes his shoulder.