OK Number Twenty Four - The Darker Ebb
As far as Kallen was concerned, the less that was said about Canada, the better. She bogged down off the line, allowing Suzaku to pull ahead into turn one. Trying to at least hold onto second, she swung in across Gino, who stormed up her inside into turn two, and made contact, with her front wing getting hit by his tyre wall, and the end-plate flew off. While she neither span nor crashed out, she was forced to pit immediately to replace her nose, putting her to the back.
However, this was Canada, and unlike Monaco the 4.3 kilometres of Montreal tarmac facilitated a significant amount of overtaking. She was able to use her cars natural pace to charge from last to fifth, without any safety car to help bunch up the field. Gino had won from Suzaku and Lelouch respectively. Certainly, it was remarked by individuals who considered themselves the height of wit that at least she was now finishing races, which was an improvement.
However, Kallen was not even as charitable as this. It was all she could do to not rage at the wheel when her front wing broke, as she felt the deep sickening that it had happened to her again. She had finished with points, but, with Suzaku finishing second behind his teammate Marrybel, she had lost out overall, and it was her fault.
Aware of what had happened in Japan when she overcompensated, she had managed to maintain some manner of cool out on track, more tired than anything else. She was just desperate to put points on the board, and that exhaustion with the current funk she found herself in drove her to a half-hearted finish.
She did not say a word getting out of the car, having sat and simmered for some time. By the time she raised herself out of the cockpit, there was a palpable tension about the room, and no one dared approach her for fear of being yelled at.
It was probably justified, Kallen supposed. She was bitter, furious, and pent up, and it was entirely self directed. She felt an immense pressure in her chest, and her head felt as if it was moments for catching fire. It took all she had to not simply flail her arms and legs in frustration, to rock her head and roar out, and if a mechanic approached her with critical commentary, it may well be said that she would truly lose it, and it would be entirely her fault.
Again.
And so, there was an awkward, terse silence as Kallen slowly untangled herself from the piping, the drinks hose, and the suffocating HANS, slowly removing her helmet, and finally exposing her face. She felt her facial features stiffen, and she could visualise the vicious scowl that was doubtless being presented to the hapless engineers.
There was a standoff of sorts, as she paused in the centre of the garage, all eyes on her. Her jaunty, off centre stance was fretfully examined, as her eyes shifted in turn. They almost certainly had their own sentiments and opinions as they watched their hard work be crashed, mishandled, and wasted. They hid it for fear of vicious reprisal on Kallen's part, but Kallen knew it was there. After all, she couldn't imagine how cross she would be with them if the positions were switched. She was cross with herself as was.
Shaking her head, she turned heel and walked back towards her private room in the rear of the garage, linking through to her trailer. Heading for the latter, she refused to speak a word to the press waiting in the gap between, closing the door behind her as she climbed in.
Finally, she was alone, in the cold and quiet of the articulated trailer that lasted perhaps ten seconds, before she ripped off her gloves and hurled them as hard as she could at the wall.
"Chikushō! Fuck, fuck fuuuuckkkkk!"
The swears varied in volume, pitch, spirit, aggression, tone, and content, but none lacked a shared venom and underlying frustration. Some were roars, hollered out into the vacuum, where all the air in her lungs was summoned to exhume the built up anger, all the rage and hate within herself bellowed out as she killed her voice.
Others, perhaps as a consequence, were quiet, and hoarse, as her understanding of the situation folded over on top of itself as the depth of her screw ups seemed to grow and grow, adding layers to the weight pressing down on her like a diamond on the ocean floor. How could she let this happen? Each expletive tried to reach at some answer, in vain.
Blew the win in Bahrain. Trying to make up for that, she nearly died in Japan. As a consequence, she faced a grid penalty at Monaco, where grid position was paramount. Attempting to compensate, she pushed too hard and crashed again. Feeling the championship slipping away, she tried to win the race at turn one in Canada and got a broken front wing for her troubles. In trying to catch up by pushing harder, she had directly made the gap grow. It was like quicksand; the harder she struggled, the deeper she sank.
And right now, as she felt the tears drip down onto her hands, was pretty damn deep.
Forty-four points. With Suzaku on top form, and Lelouch playing his cards very cannily, catching that gap was going to be an immense challenge. That was not even considering that she would have to turn around her performance before she could even begin to make inroads.
This was all assuming the team, seeing that one of their drivers was in a much better position to contest the title, began to weigh its resources more heavily in Lelouch's favour. It would be the rational decision to make, looking at the points and performance gap thus far.
The longer she thought about it, the worse it got. Kallen shook all over. What a disaster.
That was when the door knocked.
It would take someone awfully brave or awfully stupid to knock when Kallen was liable to bite their head off, and such an occurrence was so surprising to her that she was stunned into forgetting her rage as she lamely went to get the door, almost as if reverting to default. However, her brain clicked back into gear when she saw that, at the foot of the garage, there stood the innocent earnesty of Gino Weinberg.
She blinked. What did he want? If it were Taizo, or Naoto, perhaps it may make sense, and even Lelouch may have been a possibility depending on whatever schemes he was hatching, but Gino, though they were on good terms, puzzled her. Had he lost something?
She considered this for some time, before it occurred to her that the only way she would find out was if she actually answered rather than speculated. Again rather lamely, she pulled open the door and asked "Do you need something?"
Gino, charged with the confidence of gods, pushed past her initial lack of enthusiasm for his presence and asked "Do you mind if I come in?"
Blinking, and somewhat defused, she shrugged and replied "Free country."
Gino nodded, and climbed up the folding stairs into the coach behind the redhead, ducking his head beneath the top to clamber inside the bedroom stroke kitchen. Nodding, he asked "Do you have any beer on you?"
Kallen blinked in surprise before smirking and nodding towards the cooler in the bottom corner. As he moved towards it, she cautioned "Don't push your luck asshole."
Gino selected a glass bottle of whiskey before settling onto the couch in the back, settling down as Kallen stood in the centre of the room, looking down at him from across the way, before she asked "So what did you want, apart from my alcohol?"
"Well first off-" Gino began, "Given that the team have confiscated my stash, I appreciate your generosity."
"Delighted to be of service." Kallen snarked in reply.
Gino paused, wiping sweat off his face. The race was still fresh, and both drivers were tired, with Kallens earlier anger being all that sustained her brief fit of rage. Gino, lacking such fuel, looked as if you would be loath to try and peel him off the sofa. However, once his face was cleared, he continued.
"I wanted to apologise."
Confused, Kallen took her turn to pause, before replying "For the beer? It's grand. I've got bigger problems-"
Gino waved the point off, literally swatting at the air to dismiss Kallen's line of thought, before replying "No, forget the beer. I'm sorry about running into you on lap one."
Kallen froze again, focusing on the figure across the way in confusion, before replying "What are you on about?"
Gino took a moment to down the neck of the whiskey, before elaborating "Turn two, I'm pulling up your inside and sniffing about for the position. I don't have the grip to make it work, and my front end swashes out wide and into your front wing, spoiling your race. Shouldn't have kept it in, so I'm sorry."
"But…" Kallen tried, as she relived the opening lap. She had tried to hold the outside, desperate to hold the position and had even tried to cut across to deny Gino a route through. Was he running wide with understeer? That would mean-
"It wasn't my-"
Gino frowned, and asked "Your what? Your fault? Rubbish. I just knew that you've had a run of bad luck and I thought that it was worth noting that this one wasn't on you."
Kallen's chest fell uncertainly, her breath dropping in petering shivers. It was quite the revision of her viewing of the situation for which she had berated herself. The whole frame of the situation, from repeated failures to interspersed, was a significant shift that carried emotions she couldn't quite put words to.
"But this…"
Gino leaned forward, his face dropping with concern as he asked "Are you alright mate?"
Kallen's head dipped a bit, her lips pursing and eyes fixing on the floor, before tilting slightly with uncertainty. This was followed by a loud breath out, as she mulled over the possibility of letting Gino in on what was happening.
"I've… it's…"
"Take your time mate, you don't need to say anything you don't want to." he reassured, seeming ill at ease, arm extended out with palm facing downwards, as if trying to cool and calm Kallen, who was looking in equal parts torn and bitter.
"No, no… it's just…" Kallen restarted, before shaking her head and giving it one more go.
"I'm a mess. I can't go half a lap without bashing something, and the deeper the hole gets, the more I have to climb out of, and the more I have to climb, the harder I try to push, push, push the car to make it up, and then the car can't take it and I get deeper. But what the hell else am I meant to do?"
Gino nodded, though he did not initially speak up until he was certain Kallen was finished, until she stood breathless and close to tears. After ensuring he wouldn't be interrupting, and choosing his words with immense care, he began a reply.
"I was, for the last two years, team mates with Cornelia McGlynn. She always pulled ahead of me in the early season, with the gap growing and growing and I would always feel a desperate sinking as with each year, with each equal start and opportunity to clinch a championship, I fell further behind. While I didn't react by pushing, it got to me in other ways. It was not brilliant. Of course, I never did pull it back, but my point is that when I say what I'm about to say, I'm coming from a place where I know what you're on about."
Kallen looked up, curious as to where Gino was going to bring this.
"I've two suggestions. First, let's get out of this trailer."
Kallen, taken aback, gave a dubious look, inferring a hostile confusion as to this prospect. She was red from tears and fresh from an awful race. What was he planning?
"We're going to get some ice cream. Doctors orders."
Blinking, Kallen, now quite outraged, asked "What will that solve?"
Gino smiled, and replied "Nothing's being solved in here, not with us crying and worrying. Productivity follows from having a clear head, and ice cream was the first thing that came to mind. Wipe up the tears and we'll head off."
Kallen was hesitant, but couldn't find anything obvious to rebut and try and fight it, and so, reluctantly, she grabbed her coat, and followed Gino out into the sunlight.
It had been a dry race, and the weather remained mild as they walked privately through the maze of trailers and trucks, loading up the machinery and equipment anonymously as the circus wound down. With hats and oversized overcoats they looked like curious fans, and were unmolested as they moved towards the food stalls at the edge of the Ile Notre-Dame. The atmosphere was tired, as the spectators slowly flowed out like the last few drops of coffee, barely awake after having been in a state of excitement and anticipation for so long.
Kallen stayed alongside Gino, eyes cast downwards, as he ordered a pair of ice creams, not being phased by the waiter, who asked for a signature in an excited voice. He was a fantastic actor, Kallen acknowledge, always exuberant, even when, as he had mentioned, he had felt less than chipper while being beaten by Cornelia. Kallen had never once noticed, as the lanky blonde had never let on anything other than a toothy grin and a chuckle.
"Here ya go." he said, maintaining his smile, green eyes sparkling as he handed over the cone to a dubious recipient, before making a start on his own, as he walked over to a bluff and sat, just past the first chicane.
Curious as to what his intentions were, she sat beside him and ate. The exposed position was subject to surprising winds, but they had a view of all of Montreal as they sat in silence, eating the desserts. Time passed without event, with even Gino not speaking, only trying to block the wind with strategic positioning of his coat, to mixed and occasionally hilarious results.
It was only once the wafer was dispensed with and fingers were licked clean that Kallen finally spoke up, asking "Gino, what are we doing here?"
He took a moment to answer, picking his words again carefully, before replying "I wanted, primarily to get you doing something that meant you weren't thinking about the race. I always find sitting quietly enjoying something sweet, I just forget about everything. Really cools the head. When the race was all you were able to think about, you were really distraught, and couldn't think straight. I thought that relaxing out here may help."
Kallen nodded. The quiet of the Quebecois knolls and sweet taste had soothed her considerably, and let her mind engage with her choices ahead, now that she had had a chance to unwind in a more relaxed, social environment.
Gino, as much as she hated to admit it, had had a point. That was worth a bottle of whiskey. She sat in quiet contemplation, as Gino teased out a possibility.
"Try and… not think about it. Not the driving, obviously, but the championship. Just drive your best drive at each event, and good things will come. Once you've a bit of momentum back under your belt, you can look more positively at the standings, but right now it's not doing you any good."
Kallen didn't respond, instead staring out into the distance. For the first time in weeks, everything was quiet, with neither someone else nor her own inner monologue, just herself, a helpful but unknowing Gino, and a grassy hill. Quiet, peaceful.
There was nothing and no one. It was almost impossible to get cross, to get hot and boiled over in the infinite space. Kallen took a deep breath as she stared out, empty but for two scoops of ice cream. Suddenly, with the fear and anxiety having been briefly forgotten, she settled into a cool observation of its slow regrowth, able to sit and indeed watch it, as she watched the city.
She breathed again, and watched it retreat, like the growth and shrinkage of a lung as oxygen rushed in to fuel it. It ebbed, but the cool northern air tempered it. It settled, and suddenly Kallen eased. Her heart rate was at a low ebb, and she was in control. She would win one race. She would win another. And so on, until the championship was hers. She had the skill, all it took was the focus.
Focus, focus. The word, contextualised, caused the worries to grow, but given their manageable size Kallen was able to quiet them. They were antithetical to success. She would detach herself from them, and allow them to sink alone.
"It's time to go back."
Gino was indeed right, however in a broader sense than he perhaps intended. Stepping out of the void required a literal stepping out, and as she studied it clinically, she found she could not agree more with his prognosis. She closed her eyes, and chuckled, her crows feet extending as she felt a surge of confidence. As long as there stood a mathematical chance, not all hope was lost, and she would drive as well as she could until that was no longer true. Each race was its own, and she would drive to win it, and not try to win three others at the same time. And with this new calm, that would be enough.
Kallen Kozuki was back.
Onwards then, to Hungary! With Lelouch at 95 points, Suzaku at 94, and Kallen at 51 what with all her errors, can she catch up what is almost two whole race wins worth of a deficit in the remaining nine races? Can she maintain this cool drive, and focus, allowing herself to let go of small frustrations and exhibit her skill on the Sunday? Will Suzaku's consistency allow him to maintain the gap? Or will Lelouch thread the needle? Tune in next time to find out, as we return to the circuit after what I'll admit to be a long spell off the tarmac. I wanted to do some character development, and now that we're all caught up, it'll be all six cylinders propelling us forwards through this season! Please review to let me know what you make of these developments, who you're backing to win, and any other commentaries you'd like to make! It means a great deal.
~Eth0