( ACT I. ── The Becoming )
chapter thirteen / Water Under The Bridge
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Mere moments before the green flag waved, Annika flexed her fingers inside her gloves and shifted her neck beneath her helmet, feeling a distant throb of pain. The sky was gray and the air was thick with oncoming rain. As usual, the crowds were alive, waving flags and posters, waiting for their idols to work miracles. Annika would do her best.
Sitting in P4, beside Esteban in P3, Annika stuck her hand out beneath her halo and gave a thumbs-up to her former teammate, which he reciprocated. A spark had been reignited this weekend ─ some sort of reminder to her, and to him as well, that it hadn't all been bad when she was with Alpine. Having Lewis as a teammate gave her a mentor, but Esteban was a friend. Some of it was good. The happy times were good. Out of nowhere, for seemingly no conceivable reason, this weekend had become their closure.
As the first light flashed, she thought about her father in the garage, knowing he was watching, knowing she would make him proud.
The signals lit up, five in a row, and suddenly it was lights out.
Annika broke out immediately and slotted herself directly behind Esteban as the engines roared ahead, keeping the starting grid intact through the first turn of the track. Verstappen, Alonso, Ocon, Räikkönen, and behind her was Hamilton and the two Ferraris back-to-back.
She held her position strong as she veered around the hairpin turn, keeping close on Ocon's rear wing, using him as a buffer to prevent any overtakes from her teammate.
( ─ If and when the orders came to do a driver swap, she would concede her position to Lewis. But until then, she preferred to keep her car just where it was. )
The first three laps went smoothly, and then DRS was enabled. Annika didn't waste time in diving to the left of Ocon and speeding past him immediately after the detection zone, taking third as her own. That was more reminiscent of her time in Alpine.
"That's good work, Annika. You're P3, P3. How do the tyres feel?"
"They feel good," Annika replied as she turned tediously around the chicane. Her team had taken a risk by putting her on hard compound tyres to begin, opposite of both the race leader and her teammate ─ an experiment more than anything. "What's the gap to car behind?"
"Gap to Ocon is 1.4."
"And car ahead?"
"Gap to Alonso is 3.5."
"Oy. What sort of crack cocaine did they put in those Aston Martins?"
He was silent for a moment. "Please watch your language, Annika. This is going on television."
"Okay," she sighed, "okay. Let me know if Ocon gets DRS please."
"Copy, will do."
Lap fifteen came and passed, and Annika had gained traction on her hard compounds. She was up on Alonso's rear wing, and could only see Ocon in her mirrors down the longer straights. Lyndon advised her carefully ─ do not overtake. Verstappen would be pitting in approximately fifteen to twenty laps, and she couldn't afford to wear out her tyres before the crucial moment arrived. So she remained close-knit with the Aston Martin, using DRS to stay close without straining the car. He had been losing time steadily in his laps.
"Are my brakes looking okay?" she asked as she noticed some subtle understeer around the chicane.
"One moment, checking. They seem fine on my end."
"Can I adjust the brake bias?"
"It's up to you. Do what you need, and I'll advise as we go."
"Copy. Thank you very much, Lyndon."
"You're quite welcome, Annika."
Annika thumbed a couple of buttons as she flew along a straight. The next turn felt better. She needed to be more cautious of potential lock-ups now. "Mate, what's going on with Alonso? I am almost outrunning him with DRS."
"Alonso has lost seven tenths in the last two laps. If you are faster, pass."
A thrill ran through her. "Copy. What's the situation behind?"
"Ocon 8.7 behind, Sainz 1.3 behind him, followed by Hamilton 1.9 behind him."
"Has Lewis pitted?"
"Negative."
She hummed nervously, wondering how people would feel about her passing into P2 while Lewis lingered back in P5. While the goal was for a double top-three finish, a single-Mercedes podium would be more than satisfactory to the team.
But not with the wrong car.
At lap 20, she noticed that Alonso was struggling for grip, and decided to stop playing it safe. She took the turn wide to overtake at the start of the zone and give herself a boost through the straight, and he did not fight her, allowing her to leave the Aston Martin clear in the dust.
"Fantastic work, Annika," said Lyndon. "You're at P2."
"Gap to Verstappen?"
"That'll be 6.8, but don't push just yet. He's running mediums and has yet to pit, so just focus on managing the gap for now."
"Copy."
"How do the tyres feel?"
"Fine. Um, if we pit early for mediums, and I can make them last until lap seventy with a decent gap, can we pit again for softs and go for a fastest lap?"
"Err, negative, Annika. We don't want to compromise the podium."
She hesitated as she steered around a turn. "Are we on the original plan still...?
"No, we are on plan B. Everything we do will be with the goal of a 2-1 finish today. A 2-1 finish."
Though she was sweating through her suit in the roaring heat of the car, Annika felt oddly cold at his words. A 2-1 finish signified car 2 ─ Annika's ─ finishing ahead of car 1 ─ seven-time world champion's. That was the goal. Nothing to do with the championship contender; all energy focused on getting the highest results out of her.
Not that she didn't want it. But something about it felt wrong. Lewis was aiming for his eighth world championship, and while Annika would love to see a podium today, she was only in her second year of Formula One. She didn't want people thinking that she was attempting to usurp or undermine her teammate's points.
"Are you certain?" she asked. She looked and saw Alonso in her rear mirrors.
"Yes."
"Okay, I understand."
"Possible rain by lap 35."
"I will hold the tyres out to wait for inters then."
At lap thirty, Lyndon reported that Verstappen was struggling with his tyres. Annika had a nine-second gap to P1. If he pitted, she would have roughly a ten-second lead when he came back out. She flexed her hands, one at a time, struggling to take a steady breath. She had never, ever led a race in Formula One before.
"Tyres are looking good. We've pitted Lewis for an undercut. Verstappen is in serious traffic, losing pace. Rain coming... maybe another ten laps. Push for everything you have."
"Yes, sir, I will," she said gleefully, adrenaline pumping through her hard.
Lap thirty-five. She struggled around Pérez as she lapped him. The gap was reducing. It was a waiting game now for Verstappen to pit.
The risk of oncoming rain was lingering further and further away.
Lap forty-six.
Collision.
As she turned around a corner, her front left tyre was rammed by the rear right of the the lapped Alpha Tauri. She yanked her wheel furiously to correct the thrown steering, and immediately as the position was conceded by De Vries, she knew something was off. "Goddamn. I think I have damage, Lyndon. I've got damage. Was De Vries getting electrocuted or something? What the fuck?"
"Copy, you've got a front left puncture. Box now, box now. Race control is investigating."
"Copy." Annika turned off her radio and slammed the steering wheel as she entered the pit lane. "FUCK!"
The pit stop lasted a mere 2.3 seconds to swap her onto mediums, but the time felt so wasted nonetheless. She came out behind Alonso by eleven seconds. There was no way she would make that up before Verstappen pitted, and it was questionable that she would ever make it up at all.
"Hamilton's position?" she asked.
"P7."
"Ocon?"
"Ocon P4."
Annika breathed steadily and heavily. There was still over thirty laps. She had time. They all did.
At lap 51, there were reports of rain by the start. Annika braced herself for downpour, not knowing what to expect ─ no one seemed to have any clue.
"Hold position."
Alonso pitted on lap 55. Annika flew past the pit exit and didn't look back, taking back P2 for the time being. She struggled in the rain, that much was true. But her tyres were fresh, and she refused to waste another twenty seconds boxing for inters if she wasn't completely, one-hundred-percent certain that she needed them, and she told Lyndon as much. Unfortunately, not long after she spoke, it was quickly becoming impossible to drive at all.
"Fuck! Okay, I need inters─ I need to box for inters right now," she said, a jolt in her voice as she nearly collided with Magnussen on the chicane.
"Okay, we're boxing for inters." He continued to speak as she entered the pitlane, "The Ferraris are still going so slow that you'll come out ahead of them."
True enough. But it had destroyed her gap.
Coming out of the pitlane, she fell into a slipstream behind Alonso. She was P3, he was sitting P2. She furiously wiped droplets off her visor.
Next lap, Alonso pitted again. Annika returned to P2. It was no longer a cat fight for second position now.
"Gap to Verstappen?"
"Gap to Verstappen is 13.2. Top five is Verstappen, you, Ocon, Alonso, Hamilton."
She cringed and overcorrected a slide, nearly sending herself into the wall. She was lucky she had a significant gap with Esteban, or else she certainly would have been overtaken.
"Lyndon," she wiped her visor again, "I'm going to be honest with you, I really am not having a great time right now specifically."
"Stay strong, Annika. Your pace is skyrocketing. Gap to Verstappen is down to 11."
"That will not help when I am crashed in the wall."
"That's the spirit."
At lap 64, she got the news that the rain was easing up, and it wasn't long before the conditions reflected it.
"If it gets drier, box me for softs. I want the fastest lap."
"Reasonable. The gap to Ocon is 18.9, so just let us know when you're ready."
Lap 76, cutting it dangerously close, she was ready. "Okay, we box for softs. We box for softs. I have to risk."
"Copy. Gap to Ocon is 19. You're completely certain?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Come in."
She pitted. Every moment in a mandated speed felt like her points dripping away. A hard ball of panic was knotted in her stomach. Every millisecond counted.
Coming out, she slotted behind the Alpine's rear wing. She moved fast, around corners, cutting as close as possible, and overtook Ocon with DRS to begin her final lap. She treated it like qualifying, flying as fast as possible, slicing her way through sharp turns, feeling the uncertainty of the car on the damp asphalt and correcting with the rigidity of a command. She had everything to lose now.
The lap seemed to last a thousand years. She passed the checkered flag with her heart in her throat.
"Tell me we have it, Lyndon."
"We have it. That's P2 with a fastest lap. That was an incredible drive. You covered all conditions, you adapted, I couldn't be prouder."
"Yes!" Annika laughed with glee as she took her in-lap slow, throwing her fist in the air, waving past her halo. Her new career best. P2. With her father here to see. Perhaps the best day of her career ─ no, her life. Tears burned in her eyes, and she furiously blinked them away.
"Podium positions are Verstappen, you, Ocon."
She tried to steady her voice as she released another shaky laugh. "Thank you guys. Thank you, Lyndon. Thank you for believing in me."
"Nothing in the world I'd rather be doing, honey. Bring it home."
She pulled into parc fermé and sat in her car for a moment, trying to pull herself together. She spent time unhooking her steering wheel. Getting so emotional was not something she had expected. Annika never cried at victories. All she could think about was what it would look like to see her father smiling up at her from beneath the podiums.
A trembling breath. She slid her legs out from her cockpit, grabbed the halo, and hoisted herself free. Replaced the steering wheel. Climbed up onto her car. Annika punched her fists up high into the air and heard the cheers from her team beyond the barriers; no sound so discordant had ever sounded so beautiful.
Esteban was already out of his car and approaching her. Annika jumped down into his arms and nearly knocked him to the ground in her fierce embrace. "It's not over until it's over, baby!" she shouted in joy, half-laughing as she hit his back and he squeezed the sides of her helmet.
Two former teammates, neither of them with a true win today, but this was a victory for them ─ unfinished business resolved at long last.
Annika pulled back and they clasped hands, and he squeezed as tight as he could.
"Congratulations, mate," she said, flipping up her visor to wipe at her teary eyes.
He patted her back as they parted ways, one to the Alpine crew pressing against the barriers, and one to Mercedes. Annika was engulfed by reaching arms, everyone patting her helmet and squeezing her shoulders and screaming erratically with pride. She didn't see Kimi until he was already in front of her.
"Minä tein sen!" she shouted, flipping open her visor. "Sinulle, Isä."
She barely felt conscious for her interview. When she blinked, her eyes swam and all she could think about was passing the checkered flag. She didn't even remember taking off her helmet until she was taking her P2 cap and fitting it down over her brow.
Coming out onto the podium, it was all smiles and joy from below, both the literal and figurative champagne very much on ice. She waved with both hands to her team.
She shook hands with the lineup of important figures just as Esteban slipped on his podium and spilled his champagne. Annika and Max laughed as Max picked up the preemptively-foaming bottle.
It was Princess Charlene of Monaco who handed Annika her trophy. Annika took it graciously and shook her hand. I'm shaking hands with a princess, she thought with some mild surprise, acutely aware that she had not washed her hands in any way since removing her extremely sweaty gloves.
After the national anthems, Annika picked up her champagne and gave it a good shake, a rocket of fizz hitting Max square in the neck. He lunged to the side with his own, and in moments they were dousing each other, dousing the crowd, the cameras. Esteban poured it right down onto her head, and she closed her eyes and tilted her head back to let the sticky fizz slick back her hair that was loose from her braids, rather than allowing it to flatten to her brow. When he decided he'd had enough, she whipped back around and shot some into his face.
When it had calmed, Annika lifted the large bottle to her mouth and drank from it, the others following in suit. They all clinked the bottles together, a victory well-deserved.
Annika considered this her redemption, not only from Miami but also Australia, both times missing out on this moment by a hair's breadth. Well, here she was now.
Thoroughly soaked and sticky, Annika retrieved her trophy and walked to the edge of the stage, holding it up for her team to see. Lewis was among them now, a smile on his face; he was the most forgiving person she had ever known. Toto was beside him, clapping. Annika shook the trophy for emphasis, reflecting his pride right back at him.
Then, she met eyes with her father far below, and placed her hand to her heart.
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( note )
this chapter might be boring to some but idc. it was remarkably healing for me. we are in annika's powerful but short-lived "for once things are going right" era.
annika and lyndon's development over the season means very much to me.