Disclaimer: Prompt from bman: Elderburn rivals to lovers racing. This is the result.
Yang ran a cloth over her helmet's visor, having polished the damn thing almost twenty times but needing something to keep her hands busy. Three years into her career and she was minutes away from starting the biggest race of her life. She should feel nervous, the sort of anxiety that comes with moving in excess of a hundred miles an hour, where one bad twitch could spell her end, but she thrived on the adrenaline, on the rush that came with crossing the finish line. Racing motorcycles professionally- it was like the sport was made with her in mind, the twist and turns calling to a need that ran through her blood, with every beat of her heart. She loved it.
But this race… if she won, it would be smooth sailing. The best of the best, veterans who'd been racing since before she could even shift gears without grinding the clutch- even as little more than a rookie, she had a spot of her own beside them. Two years on the lesser circuits and just this one to race alongside some of them; racers didn't get breaks like that, not in this line of work. Not when everyone constantly tuned and tweaked and refined, but she had something of a hot streak going, and it didn't look like anyone could put it out… except one woman.
The Ice Queen, the best racer in the world, the top dog for five years running- Winter Schnee. A born and bred speed demon and the very definition of stiff competition. The only person to ever leave Yang in the dust.
The odds were stacked against her. Winter had never lost the Isle of Man race, not in five years, and Yang had never so much as visited the course before the past week. Inexperience had cost other racers their lives and she couldn't manage to beat Winter on a regular race.
If she lost, it wouldn't be too big a surprise, then… but if she won… it would be everything she'd ever dreamed of, and Ruby could finally open the shop like she'd always talked about; the prize winnings and all sorts of deals she'd get in the process would more than take care of any expenses. That was why she'd really gotten into the sport at all, despite the perfect fit; it wasn't about the glory for her, unless it could benefit her sister.
She just had to win this race.
… but she wasn't sure if she wanted to anymore.
"Wipe it any more and you're liable to scratch it." Yang looked up, watching the woman approach her. "Wouldn't want your visibility compromised, now would we?"
"Schnee," she said, standing up and squaring off against the five time champ. She had her hair up in her usual, severe bun, those blue eyes sharper than any blade looking as cold as ice, and the pure white of her racing suit made her look… almost like an angel. "Come to wish me good luck."
"Of course. I wish all my competitors the best of luck." For a moment, something slipped, her mask falling just enough for her brows to pinch together. "But I also wanted to assure you that, if you opted to pull out of the race, you have plenty of opportunities ahead of you. This isn't a make-or-break point in your career."
"I didn't take you for the type to intimidate your opponents." Yang watched the woman move around the little tent, tucked away in the back of the staging area. Most of the racers were out in the lot, getting their bikes warmed up, doing checks. That's where Ruby was, giving Bumblebee a final once over. "You haven't tried that with me before, at least."
Ever since Yang's first race, she'd crossed paths with Winter at almost every turn. When they weren't racing, she was there, watching, and Yang had even caught a red eye flight or two to watch the woman in turn. Learning, because they had the potential to be the biggest rivalry in the sport. Even with all the perks that came from being a pedigreed racer, Winter always raced with such a… mechanical style, like watching a video game. Yang had a knack for it, a feeling, and she trusted her gut more than anything.
"I'm not trying to intimidate you." Those blue eyes fell on her and the mask slipped a little more. "This is the most dangerous race in Remnant. Every year, we lose at least one racer, and sometimes officials and spectators, too. It's not something you should be entering lightly."
"This whole sport is dangerous." She shifted her weight, the leather in her suit creaking. It was stifling, given the warm Mistrali air, but it could save her life if she took a spill.
Could.
"Yang." At first, she thought the use of her given name was a slight, a way to get under her skin. Never uttered in front of the press or where others could hear, but on the times when they'd been alone… she never called her 'Xiao Long'. Always 'Yang'. She read it as disrespect until she heard the way the woman talked around her sister, perhaps the only member of her family she actually cared about. Names had a different meaning for the whole damn family, it seemed; always polite and proper where others could see. Where they couldn't? Either disdain or fondness- there was no in between. And there'd never been any disdain in the woman's tone. "I'm serious. You don't have to do this."
"Why do you do it?" She tilted her head, watching the way Winter began running her hands over the tools left out by some technician or another. "Why do you race?"
"You've been asking me that for a year," she replied, glancing at the blonde. "Are you expecting my answer to change?"
"I'm hoping for the truth." Blue eyes held hers. "Just once."
They watched each other for a moment.
"Because it's no risk." Finally, a different answer than 'because it's what I'm meant to do', though she didn't like the way the woman's lips curled into a wry grin. "If I race and win, I get to enjoy a few more weeks as my father's perfect prodigy. If I lose, then I get to skip that phase and move right to being the disappointment, or the sounding board for whatever Weiss has gotten herself into. And if I crash… then I'll be free of this nightmare."
"Winter-"
"I have no intentions of being careless." She waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not suicidal; I've simply accepted my reality. The only way out for me is injury." Winter glanced towards the tent flap. "Any sane person wouldn't risk a fifth time on this hellish course. Most win once or twice and retire, but I don't have that option."
"So, what? I should quit before I've even started?" She raised an arm, gesturing with her helmet towards the lot. "Just pack it in and go home?"
"Run the race if you must. But be careful." A frown touched her lips. "You do this for the right reasons, Yang. You have what it takes to make it big in this sport. Don't throw it away chasing a victory you don't need."
"If I win this race, I can call it quits." She turned her helmet around, held it in both hands so she could admire the decal on the back- a yellow dragon wrapped around a long stemmed red rose. "Ruby and I, we're in this together. I get the winnings and one licensing deal, and I'm done. I'm one of those who only wants to win once." She looked up at Winter. "I can't stop now."
For a moment, the woman looked furious, but then her expression smoothed out. "You realize I can't throw the race, correct? You'll have to beat me and set a world record to do it. On the most dangerous course in Remnant."
"I didn't say it would be easy." She shook her head. "But I have to do this. Just like you have to. We don't race for the same reasons, but we both know we can't just quit. Even when we want to."
Winter blinked. "Do you want to?"
Pressing her lips into a thin line, she nodded. "You can't throw the race. I can't hold back. We always push each other, to the limits of what our bikes can do. On a straight track or a loop, that's fine, but here?" Her shoulders fell. "Winter, I'm scared to death that only one of us is walking away from this race."
"Me too." Stepping closer, the woman stopped in front of her, raising a hand to lay it light on her cheek, cupping her jaw. Tenderly- in a way most wouldn't think possible for a white knuckle adrenaline junkie with the temperament of a storm at sea. "But if it comes to that, I'm praying to a God I don't even believe in that it's you." She leaned forward, gently pressing their lips together. A kiss, but hardly that, because neither of them could be sure of anything at this point. But when Winter drew back, she could see something in those blue eyes "Be careful, Yang."
"You too," she replied, quietly but with all the strength her voice could muster.
And then a horn sounded, the third signal. Fifteen minutes until the start of the race.
Winter stepped back, then turned, heading out towards the lot. They would need to get lined up and wait.
Yang watched her go and bit down on the words in her heart, looking down at her helmet.
One more race.
The scenery blurred past her as she laid on the throttle even heavier, trying to not lose momentum on the uphill battle. The last leg of the race and everyone was well behind her, to the point that on the sharper curves, she didn't even see their headlights coming around the last bend.
Everyone, except for Winter.
A white bike with blue accents, a blur just ahead of her, but she was gaining. This? Winding canyons, up and down hill, this was where she thrived, where she discovered her thirst for faster and faster; it was the arena where she held the advantage. And everyone, Winter included, knew it.
The woman crested the hill and Yang was hardly two seconds behind her, gaining now that she had her weight to speed her along. Four more turns along a cliffside view that would look absolutely gorgeous at sunset, she'd be willing to bet on that, and then the finish line just beyond. Almost there.
The first turn, she took the inside, and they were almost neck-and-neck, with only a guard rail separating her from the towering rocks to her right. The next, Winter had the inside and gained some of her lead back, with only a guardrail between her and a sharp drop into the ocean below. The third turn, and Yang had a chance. If she didn't lose too much on the next one, she could gun it for the finish line. It would be a dead sprint with only their nerves holding them back, and she could swear she heard the crowd beginning to shout then.
As they went into the last turn, Winter started to pull ahead of her.
And that's when she saw it- a flash of metal, a spark. A mechanical failure just before the bracket on the back tire slipped.
That was bad news going fifty, but they were pushing a hundred.
Winter lost control.
She tried to force the bike onto its right side- trying to angel it between her and the guard rail- but it went left and she started to roll, letting go of the handlebars. It happened so fast.
Terror gripped her heart at the thought of Winter going over the cliff side; it was at least an eighty foot drop.
She slammed on the brakes but knew she wouldn't be able to stop quick enough, so she angled her bike towards the side of the road and laid it down, pushing off even as she smacked against the black top. She rolled, each jarring impact feeling like it might've broken a bone, but when she came to a rest with the sound of her own bike shredding into pieces ringing in her ears, her gaze focused on the bent guard rail.
"Winter!" She ripped off her helmet, the cracked visor of no use as she tried to run- limped, more like, but faster than shuffling- and called out again. "Winter!"
"Yang!" Stumbling to the bent guard rail, she looked over the side, where the twisted metal jutted out over the jagged rocks below. Somehow, Winter had grabbed hold of the end of the thing with her right hand, but she was left handed by nature and the awkward jut of her arm and collar- both bones were broken, at the very least. Her helmet was scored all to hell, the visor broken and wide blue eyes looking at her through red trickling along her skin. "I can't- I can't pull myself up!"
"Just hang on!" She heaved a breath, looking around, but this curve left no room for spectators or medical teams to stand by. "Don't let go- just don't let go!"
She could hear a chopper- the airborne sort- nearby, but she didn't know if they'd come in time, if they even had a rope long enough or if Winter could hold on through the turbulence.
Her eyes fell on the guard rail.
Grabbing the metal with both hands, she began to pull with all her might, ignoring how her muscles screamed. Battered and bruised she may be, and maybe she'd broken a rib herself, but she'd be damned if she'd stand by, helpless, and do nothing.
Winter cried out and she looked, saw she'd moved the guard rail closer to the cliffside but not close enough, and the pain in the woman's expression.
"Hold on, just hold on!" She gave another heave, and another, shouting with effort.
"Yang!" Winter's grip was slipping, but she was pouring everything into holding on, everything she had.
But she'd gotten it close enough, and the blonde hurried to lay down, reaching out for Winter and grabbing hold, cursing the sleek design of their suits and how even grabbing the woman brought a pained cry from her lips. A matching one left her own mouth, now certain she'd broken at least a rib, the agony distracting for only a moment.
"Can you- can you move your legs?" She was heavier, which helped, but she couldn't be sure shuffling back would be enough, not if she had to go slow; she could already feel her grip beginning to slip, the muscles of her arms burning.
"Only one- Yang, Yang you have to let me go." Winter looked at her then, tears in her eyes. "You'll only get yourself killed at this rate."
"Not if we work together." Gritting her teeth, she shifted her weight to her knees. "Find a good foothold and push on three. You ready?"
"Yang-"
"I'm not letting go!" She shouted, looking into the woman's eyes. "It's all or nothing. I'm not- I'm not giving up. We don't do that, Winter. We don't. Now, are you ready?"
Pushing through the pain, those blue eyes flashed with determination. "Yes."
"Okay. One. Two. Three!" Yang threw herself up and back, pulling with all her might, until she landed looking up at a helicopter hovering overhead with a bright spotlight shining in her eyes… and a weight on her chest. "Winter?"
"I'm here." She groaned, rolling onto her back and gasping at a sharp crack that accompanied it. "Fuck!"
The adrenaline. The stuff that they fed off of, that drove them, it had protected them from the worst of their injuries, but now without the roar of their bikes, it faded quickly.
Yang reached out, blindly, until she found something. A hand, an arm, she honestly couldn't be sure what, but it was Winter, and she held tight.
And she said the things she wished she'd said before.
"You wanna get dinner some time?"
A broken laugh burst from the woman's lips. "Yang Xiao Long…" She turned her head, unable to see the woman's full face but able to see her eyes, unfocused but wide open. "Someone… needs to give you a… crash course on proper time and place… to ask a woman out… on a date." She raised a single brow as Winter smirked. "What? Too soon?"
She couldn't help but laugh. Laugh because this ridiculous woman was just as hard headed, just as stubborn, just as dedicated as her, and she absolutely loved it. "We both have broken ribs; why you gotta make me laugh?"
"Because you look beautiful when you laugh." Her eyes began to flutter closed. "And I'm a selfish bitch… I want that… to be the last thing I see… you… looking at me… like that…"
"Winter?" She groaned, rolling onto her side, but the woman's eyes had slid shut. "Winter!"
She could hear the sirens and the roar of bikes. Emergency crews and the other racers- everyone, coming to them.
But the fear didn't leave.
Recently discharged from the hospital, Yang sat in front of the cameras and the flashing lights, trying hard not to scowl as reporters shot her question after question. She never liked this part and would be all too glad when it was over.
"My sister is still recovering and she needs her rest," Ruby said, putting a hand on the blonde's shoulder to try and keep her calm. "One more question."
Half the hands went up while the rest were busy taking notes, and the man she nodded at stood up with a slick grin that made her stomach churn.
"Miss Xiao Long, do you regret not finishing the race?" She blinked. "Investigators confirmed yesterday that your bike didn't appear to suffer a mechanical failure like Miss Schnee's. It's safe to say that, had she not crashed, then neither would you. Is there any bitterness lingering at the back of your mind?"
The camera angles were shit. For the whole time she'd been in the hospital, no one really knew what had caused the two racers in the lead to crash on the last turn. They just knew that Yang had helped pull Winter from the guard rail after the fact.
And no one had the balls to straight up ask her, but apparently no issue trying to play up this rivalry between them.
A lot of things came to her mind but she wouldn't speak them. She wouldn't tell anyone that Winter had asked her not to race, that she'd known beforehand that this was a possibility. That they'd both agreed they pushed each other too much for this race to be safe for either of them. Vultures like these, they'd twist those words all manner of ways, and she wouldn't stand for it.
So instead, she leaned forward and looked him in the eye.
"Have a little fuckin' humanity, you piss poor chucklefuck," she said, flipping him the bird for good measure. "No race is worth someone's life. Only thing I regret is not being able to punch that smile off your face." She pushed herself up, accepting the crutch her sister handed her and doing her best not to wince. "A good woman is laying up in the hospital, just barely surviving a terrible crash. I'm just bitter that her pain is your entertainment."
Reporters called after her, more cameras flashed, and she'd probably just shot any chance of her getting back on the circuit in the foot.
She didn't care. She'd find some other way to get the money and Ruby had made it clear that it was sincerely the last thing on her mind. They'd pick up the pieces later.
Right now? Well, there was somewhere she had to be.
"Rubes-"
"I'm taking you back to the hospital," her sister said, grinning. "I think you should be the one to tell her that you called that dude a 'piss poor chucklefuck', just so when they censor it later, she knows what you really thought."
A smile curled her lips. "Can we stop by somewhere on the way? I… kinda promised her dinner."
"The staff probably won't let you bring it in."
"I'll fight 'em."
"I'm sure you will."
Note: The Isle of Man Tourist Trophy is the most deadly race in the world. While I took some liberties with the geography and time of the race (usually ran during the day time, pretty sure), it is a very dangerous competition, with over 240 people dead, including racers, officials, and spectators since it started in the early 1900′s (1904, I think?).
Y'all be safe out there.