OK Number 41 - Back in the Saddle
"Hello everyone, back at home, and welcome to what can only be described as the coldest place in the world. I've been wearing t-shirts and shorts all day, as one does in Spain, in over 20 degree heat, however, if my lovely camera assistant can point her lens at the sky… yea, there we go, there is absolutely no cloud cover, which is great if you want clear, uninterrupted running, without rain, however, the downside is that as soon as the sun goes down, all the heat, sorry, camera back towards the ground… yeah, there you go, to the tarmac, get my socks and sandals combo in the shot of good measure, why not… anyway, yeah, all the heat, captured in this black tarmac, and in the air, just evaporates, and shoots up, with no replacement, which means that as soon as it goes dark, the temperature drops to a few blips below zero. I'm getting goosebumps, so I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I'm making, risking an entire cold, to bring you this summing up, of the first week of pre season testing, a week which has seen the established order shaken up quite a bit, as we learn what everyone's been up to over the last few months."
Diethard waved his arm in front of his chest energetically, before hopping about in front of the camera lens. He was unbelievably pumped, having spent much of the winter months excitedly awaiting the season to start again, and was ready to visibly communicate his palpable energy. He shivered and vibrated, before getting back on track and continuing his monologue.
"However, however… we're recording this on… maybe quarter past… teeeenn… on the Friday evening, you'll be watching Saturday morning while you're having your breakfast… or lunch if you're that kind of person, but we must say, before anything else, well done to Schwarzenritter. Well, well done for actually getting a car on track for the last day of testing. They've had a really torrid time to get here, but they are here, arriving… well, yesterday for us, which will become two days ago when this is aired, but they made it, which is fantastic. Rosenberg is among the last of the historic independent teams, designing cars without manufacturer support, and Lloyd Asplund is as familiar a sight in this paddock as you'll see."
Pausing, Diethard briefly stopped his energetic, shifting motions, underlining the severity of his point. ASEEC pulling out was emblematic of the issues with the sport, that it cost immense wads of money to be competitive, and how it was pricing out some of the sports old heroes. However, the story did at least have a happy ending, as he was quick to explain.
"It seemed… back in the wonderful time that was late 2018, that the gig was up for Asplunds little undertaking, and that we would be starting the next season with one of the most storied factories having closed it doors, BUT- it has not. Lelouch Lamperouge- yes, that Lelouch Lamperouge, has provided the team a lifeline, having managed to put together a rescue package and ensure that all the engineers are not put on the welfare line. This should be good news for every fan of this sport."
He paused again to underline a point, though this time it was to highlight its excellence as opposed to its negativity. He had punched the air the day he had read the headline, and then again last night when they turned up, proving that the team was not dead. It was an incredibly wholesome story, particularly from a driver who wasn't known for his wholesome deeds as much as his cut-throat calculations.
However, everyone had come together, from Lelouch for masterminding the whole affair, to Kaguya for funding it, to Suzaku for starting the administration procedures, the whole group had pulled through the disaster, with care and a focus on ensuring that the car could be on the grid for this season and that no one lost their jobs.
But sentimentality could only be milked for so long. Diethard had to move on, and so, focusing his attention back to the broadcast, he moved back to the trackside proceedings.
"However, all of this is detailing what unfolded off track. What actually happened… here? In Barcelona? Well, let's catch ye all up. What is the happening in F1? Who is going to be on the pace this year? Well… now first off, I must advise against rampant speculation about the effects of pre-season testing, as they are often deceiving, but having said that, lets rampantly speculate about the effects of pre-season testing, shall we? Well, who has the pace of the field? Rebellion? Camelot? It sure isn't Schwarzenritter, that's for sure. Nope! None of the above! You get no points, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred pounds, because it's Xingke's Geely! Who saw that coming? Well, we're about to show you an interview that I did earlier with the Luoyang-born driver, who… well I don't think he expected it anymore than we did. Let's have a look."
Diethard was silent, as he took the microphone away from his face and watched the screen held parallel to the camera, flipped towards him so he could watch the interview as it would be edited in and start talking again as it ended, effectively watching along with the people at home to whom this would be broadcasted.
The screen flipped to a sweaty Li Xingke, wiping his wet face before looking towards the camera. Diethard was just out of frame, behind and to the left of the camera, facing towards Xingke and conducting the interview with the camera functionally representing his point of vision, still near enough to Xingke to extend the microphone to his face.
Diethard, who had just called the Chinese driver over, kicked off the interview just beyond the shot, noting "You've had a good time of it in testing so far. What do you think has been the big change to the car that's hopped you up in both speed and confidence?"
Xingke paused, thinking through the translation in his head, before nodding and answering, though with some hesitance.
"With the new… two carcass tyres, I think it suits… my style, bit more. I'm not sure the compounds… the compounds themselves are a great deal… harder or softer, you know, just less sensitive to hot or cold... Before, if you were caught behind another car, the… the hot… hot air, I'm sorry, coming off them would not only hurt your grip, but it would overheat our tyres. I'm hoping we can race better, race closer together… I'm hoping that's the case at least. This has just been testing, I've haven't had to pitch it around the outside of another car in anger yet."
Diethard nodded, allowing the brief summation a bit of room to breath before he went back in, elaborating "That should be the case for sure, though as you say, you've not been doing much wheel to wheel action. I guess, if I could nail it down, what is it about the car, whether it be the tyres and such, has proven to be of most benefit to you, what has helped you get this leapfrog? What's true about you that isn't true about the other drivers?"
Xingke opened his mouth and nodded, realising what Diethard was asking, before pausing to think of an answer. After a while, he shrugged and replied "This years car and tyre combination, as soon as I turned a wheel, I thought 'Wow, okay this is great pace.' I thought that would move us up from maybe tenth to fourth or fifth. Turns out I underestimated the pace, but it definitely was a morale booster to come back in and realise I had a second in hand. I guess I had just assumed that everyone was finding these tyres as intuitive as I was. But the car was definitely a great great platform to use them aboard, we've definitely made a great conduit that I can use with the tyres provided to us, it makes it really easy and comfortable from the word go."
"So what do you think is the reason your teammate isn't able to capitalise on this great great platform? What advice would you give?"
This was far easier for Xingke to answer, as he broke into a wry grin, before answering cautiously, though still with a slight humour; "Well… you don't give unsolicited advice to your teammate if you can help it. You don't even give solicited advice, if you can. They're your biggest and most direct rival, and I don't want to empower my rival any more than Kallen wants to empower Suzaku. If I were to think of something… use the brakes less, use the accelerator more."
"Last question, because I know you'll want to be off somewhere pretty soon; could this be the year you finally put that title bid to bed?"
Keeping his knowing grin, the pilot raised an eyebrow and replied "I don't think I could tell you that seven races in, let alone right now. There's still plenty of time to find a way to bugger this up."
The interview ended there, and Diethard saw it was his cue as soon as the screen went blank, launching straight back into presenter mode.
"So a lot to look forward to. I'm going to ramble around this paddock for a while longer before the camera assistant gets a phone call telling us to pack it in, so lets hope we can cover all the interesting stuff before that happens. How long do you reckon it'll take?"
The response took a few moments, mainly for the camerawoman to realise Diethard was talking to her and not to the viewing public, as she piped up, volume a tad reduced as she tried to manage the weight of the bulky shooting apparatus.
"Maybe half an hour before I get a buzz asking where we've run off to."
Diethard laughed, before replying "I bet we'll make it a whole hour before they descend on us. It matters not; forward!"
After a weekend where she was juggling simulator work, feedback on trialed parts, and goofing off with Gino in their articulated lorry, which served as their mobile home on what was, for Gino at least, a glorified booze cruise.
Kallen, while she did enjoy a few whiskey miniatures on the Friday, abstained on the Saturday and Sunday, eager to make good on her wintertime promises of a determined, no nonsense championship run, focused and free of vices in the mould Suzaku had exemplified.
Reduce alcohol, rest early, keep calm, and document fatigue. Kallen's sessions with Euphemia had provided some good strategies to improve both temperament, fatigue, and concentration. She definitely felt some benefit, though only time could tell if it would be enough to put her over the hump.
After all, it was not the end of the season yet. It wasn't Malaysia, where her ban was lifted and she would be able to return to racing. It wasn't even the first race yet; Australia, three weeks from the day winter testing ended. It was the Monday of the second week of winter testing, which spanned two five day weeks. Beyond two hours allocated for filming and advertising, testing and driving of the cars was strictly regulated, and so these ten days were of paramount value.
However, these ten days did not commence as soon as the clocks struck 00:01 and conclude at the end of the eleventh hour; testing could only happen between nine o'clock am and six o'clock pm, with a one hour mandatory break at midday.
This was all in the interests of throttling the data available to teams, which the rulemakers hoped would limit the amount of development they could do and hence the costs accrued in developing new parts pursuant to that data. And while this was noble (though, notably, it had not saved Rosenberg), it also gave Kallen, and indeed all the other driver, some time after breakfast to relax.
Normally, she spent this on social media. Other drivers spent this time in different ways; Naoto was determined the develop his leg precision, and in every free moment tried to extend his streak of keepie-uppies. Tohdoh appeared to have taken up smoking, perhaps less productive but it was hardly as if Kallen had a particularly high regard for her countryman, having beaten him in her debut season.
However, she would not be doing any of this this morning, as there was something more important to be attended to. Lelouch had arrived on Thursday evening, and she had been called in to do night work which meant that she was not able to see him on Friday morning, and as soon as Friday testing had ended Lelouch had driven off to a nearby hotel.
This Monday morning was her first chance she had to see him, and try to make a second attempt to reconcile, as well as to decipher why he had made the public apology that had gotten her the seat, the public apology she had not by that point asked for, nor was he particularly, given the circumstances, obliged to give.
She looked across the pitlane to ensure there weren't any cars crossing the way, before she ran out of her garage, open but not in use, and went across to the pit wall, where race engineers, team directors and strategists sat to watch the trackside action. Sitting out of the garage and up at the pit wall was definitely quite the privilege, and sure as knew Kallen layout and intricacies of the Circuit de Monte Carlo, she knew that Lelouch's ego would demand that he sit at the most prestigious of seats within a team.
And sure enough, there he was, with his left hand, sipping at a coffee while surveying a screen, displaying printed sheets. Not wanting to be accused of being engaging in industrial espionage, though given the rudimentary car that Schwarzenritter-Lamperouge was fielding, she could hardly be accused of wanting to steal any secrets from, she made a point of looking away from the screen as she approached the black-haired Frenchman from behind.
"Lelouch?"
She spoke softly, but with reasonable volume, to try and get his attention while not presenting herself as a threat or in any way hostile. However, he didn't turn, and so had to resort to tapping him on the shoulder. This didn't work either; nerve damage, Kallen realised after a moments thought, and so she sighed and resorted to a slightly elevated "Excuse me…"
He finally put his coffee down on his desk and turned his chair around. The first edges of his face looked relaxed, likely expecting a briefing from one of his various departments on what was planned for that day, but as his eyes made the turn about to sight what it was that had caught his attention, they narrowed. He stopped turning his seat, mid rotation, and instead shifted his body to face towards Kallen more actively, visibly put more on edge.
He face became more terse, his lips becoming tight and thin as his eyes scattered across her form. He seemed to need to take a few moment to collect his breathing before asking, in a brief and tight manner, the question etched into his face.
"What do you want?"
Kallen, not quite sure what she actually wanted, punted and said "I wanted to see how you are…"
"How I am…?" Lelouch snorted. "Well, I can answer that. How am I? I'm busy. Maintenant dégage."
Sighing, Kallen shook her head and apologised, commenting "Look, I'm sorry for what happened."
However, Lelouch cut her off, hissing "You say that as if you didn't make it happen. Like, 'Oop, I'm sorry to hear that your dog died.' or something like that. That you're sorry it happened would do if you weren't literally the person who bloody did it. Dégage, go away."
Kallen frowned, letting her gaze fall. She hadn't chosen the right words, and tried to rephrase her complex emotions.
"Look, I should never have done what I did. I feel horrible, but who gives a toss how I feel. You've got to live with the consequences of my temper, and it's just horrifying to see that I can do that. If I could go back and meet the me from that time, I'd give them a good slap."
"Still resolving things with violence then."
Gaahhh! So typical of Lelouch to twist her words and try to play difficult, god, it brought her blood beyond the boil to plasma to hear him using her own words to make her out to be a thuggish villain. He knew she hadn't meant it, her just wanted to see her squirm.
"No, that's not…" Kallen responded, gnashing her teeth before pausing for lack of words, before sighing and starting again. "Look, I can't undo it. Kuso, I wish that was in my power, but it isn't. I know how much my actions have impacted your life-"
"Do you?"
Kallen frowned, looking puzzled at Lelouch before he shook his head and repeated himself.
"Do you really understand what impact this has had?"
Kallen, not sure where this was going, did not respond, as Lelouch, now growing angry, sat forward and, wielding his one good arm, waved and shook it as he spoke.
"I… I woke up this morning with a migraine. A year ago, I'd have shrugged it off. Happens to everyone. But not this morning, because todays migraine is the same migraine I had yesterday. It's the same migraine I've had for almost four months, since I woke up in hospital. It's the same migraine that my doctor says I will have until I die. Until I'm dead, until I'm in the dirt. I woke up this morning and fell over when I went to stand up. I had to get Rolo to pick me up and sit me down. I need to use a cane to walk, or else I'm liable to collapse due to instability. My mental compass is… completely warped. I'll have to use a cane until I die, with my left arm. I can't use my right arm, which until last year was my dominant side, either, because I can't move it anymore. The nerve linkages have been shaken off. They won't reattach. If I'm walking, I can't hold anything. If I need to write something, I need to call an assistant. Same goes for typing for extended lengths of time. I can't shower on my own, and I have only just learned to feed myself. Does any of this move you at all?"
Kallen sighed, letting her facial features droop as she watched Lelouch deliver her indictment, knowing he was entirely correct, but it was more than that. Lelouch seemed dishevelled, running short of breath by the end of his tract, aggrieved, exasperated, and, more than anything else, weary. His words were angry, and while this was met by his face, it was not the only message conveyed by it. There was exhaustion, fear, pain, and more than a tinge of embarrassment. Kallen had not intended to induce any of these, either when she had pulled aside in Brazil to 'have a word', or now, when she had walked up to the pit wall. She didn't know what she intended, but it was hardly as if that mattered. However, her past actions did not preclude any present or future actions.
Risking being thrown out, she spoke up, asking "Yes, but what can I do? Practically, can I do anything to alleviate that? Look, if I've learned anything, anything at all, over the last few months, it's that I am an idiot. I don't know what needs to be done to make this better, but if you tell me, then I will do it. I'll do it eagerly."
Lelouch angrily shrugged, sighing back "There isn't always something you can do. There's always instances where you've got no way to win, or improve your situation. It just is."
"Perhaps not to...fix it" Kallen snapped, shaking her head, before she, with a pause to make a point of emphasis "Though, if you need any money to pay for care… mate, I'm ready to help out in that way, but is there any way we can mend this? I know as well as hurting you physically… I mean, I can see it on you, you tensed up when you saw me, I mean, can I do anything to mitigate the emotional stuff? I don't want what we had back at Rebellion, but whatever it was… working together, trying to help one another out, being able to interact reasonably comfortably… I don't want my presence or existence to cause such pain, what can I do to help in that capacity?"
Lelouch just shook his head, making Kallen frustrated, enough to ask "But you said that you had forgiven me, in that press conference? Surely that gives us a platform of some sort to work from?"
Kallen expected a range of possible responses, but Lelouch chose the 'None of the above' option, completely surprising her by laughing. Even in spite of his injuries, he delivered a howling belly laugh, slapping his knee and finding the whole thing quite hilarious.
Nonplussed, Kallen could only watch as Lelouch finally quieted down and, breathless, wheezed "That… press conference? That… Oh heavens. I hope you understand that that press conference was a formality. It changes nothing. I must say this, you're as credulous as ever. Did I strike you as the sincere sort? An honest, upstanding gentleman? You're the person who believed I conspired to get you disqualified from the Abu Dhabi qualifying, or was malicious at Brazil, so have you changed your mind suddenly and decided to believe me out of nowhere? Well? What do you think of me?"
Kallen didn't understand, however Lelouch was eager to elaborate. Clearing his throat, he continued "If you believe I'm genuine, you wouldn't have stalked me up the Abu Dhabi pit lane or smash my face in at Brazil. If you believe that I am a snake, as your brother believes I am, then you wouldn't believe my apology was anything other than a means to get an advantage. You can't believe both. Then again, I'm told your brother and you aren't getting on. It's a shame, couldn't have happened to a nicer person."
The jab at her fractured relationship with her brother rankled, however she let it slide. There was one more question, that downright puzzled her. She asked in almost a pleading voice "If it was to help you get a leg up, how did it do that? What is it all for?"
"What do I owe you an explanation for? Why the hell do you think I owe you anything other than a restraining order? Now piss off before I call security."
Lelouch pulling no punches here, nor ought he. While when I wrote this I was not aware of how accurate my writing of his injuries would be, however ironically I can now confirm it is this bad. Fortunately, mine subsided within the first month at least with regards to head traums, however it was explained to me it was possible that it would last for decades. Turns out the stuff I write happens to me about four months later.
Though this leads to the question of why I am not an F1 driver yet. Damnit McLaren, my Twitter DM's are always open!
But anyway. Xingke is fast. Tyres aren't temperature sensetive. Lelouch is angry. Tohdoh smokes. I'm trying to find a good way to end this chapter.
Ah, sod it. Leave a review if you're feeling kind, let me know how my writing is going, and have a good week.
~G1ll3s