OK Number 47 - In My Hour Of Darkness

Suzaku shook his head as he mopped his face and stepped onto the weighbridge, shaking his head. This fourth had been his best finish of the season so far, and he had only gotten it with a combination of his teammates puncture and Bradley having to retire in the pits with a clutch problem. On pace, he only was good enough for sixth. He wasn't even beating bloody Rolo, with Rolo finishing ahead in three out of the four races, and would have made it four out of four if the tyre manufacturers had been anyway inclined towards making a tyre out of a material other than glass.

Suzaku had not gotten a single podium over the entire season so far, and he did not feel as if his driving had degraded at all. He was still driving as well as he had in Brazil, or any of his other championship drives. However, he seemed to have hit a performance wall, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get any more out of the car.

No matter how hard he studied the tracks, how much time he was putting into the simulator, how much he was building his stamina and ability to sustain a charge, no matter how precise his actions or smooth his inputs, there was no correlation with improvements or success.

He kept his feelings to himself until he found a back alley to retreat into, dark and away from cameras. He knelt down, back against the brick wall forming the ground floors east face, dipped his head and began, quietly, to cry.

What was going on? Why the hell was he so apocalyptically off the pace? He was sleeping in the factory so he could spend more time in the simulator, he would exercise in his statutorily mandated off hours, and focus obsessively on getting every detail right. He was trying everything, and seventh was as good as his most committed dedication and effort could accomplish.

Pathetic, he began to sob into his elbow. In the world according to Suzaku, success was a function of effort, and if he was not achieving success, there was only one explanation.

Suzaku's solution to slumps like this, as he had not been so blessed as to have completely avoided substantial challenges, winless streaks, or just a general fall in competitiveness, was to work harder. He had not floated on unfailing and unceasing success from karting to a world drivers championship in the premier motorsports field, and it had not been resolved by wishing it away, or waiting for the lull to pass over. He had always taken the initiative, made changes to improve his form before he got stuck.

He was stuck, and for the first time in his life he didn't know what to do.

After a few minutes, he heard a gravelly shuffle, the soles of shoes grating against a rough surface, and looked up to see Kyoshiro Tohdoh of all people. Suzaku was initially mystified, before he followed Tohdoh's puzzled gaze down his torso and to his left hand, holding a cigarette.

Suzaku pieced the clues together just as he saw, in Tohdoh's face, his countryman piece Suzaku's red eyes, teary face, and slouched squat together in the same manner. He paused, before awkwardly trying to find a way to excuse himself, as each person unintentionally learned something unsavoury about the other that they could easily have lived without knowing.

"I'll… I'll find someplace else. Sorry."

Tohdoh, feeling awkward both at having someone see his secret habit, and discovering his fellow driver in tears, and decided it was best to excuse himself, leaving behind the implicit message of "I won't tell if you don't", which seemed fair. It was hardly Suzaku's job to police Tohdoh's life, and the feeling, particularly given Tohdoh's aversion to emotional intimacy, seemed to be mutual.

However, it did not appear that Tohdoh had kept his promise, as Lelouch came to the alleyway within three minutes, moving in with his cane in tow, and a concerned look on his face.

Suzaku simply shook his head as Lelouch approached, and, with a nasally voice from having so recently cried, simply said "I'm not there, I'm doing everything I can, but it's just not…"

Lelouch shook his head, before extending a consoling hand and beginning "The car isn't even close to Camelot or-"

But Suzaku shook his head more firmly, and snapped back at Lelouch, interrupting him with "I can't do anything about the car now can I? Ye design the car, that's out of my hands. I can't change the car, it's my job to do the job with the car you give me. And I don't… I'm doing all I can, but I'm not up there. I'm doing absolutely everything I can, but it's just not working, I'm sweating bloody spinal fluid in practice and fourth is the best I've come away with."

Lelouch let out a disappointed sigh, before he softly replied "There isn't always something you can do."

This set Suzaku off, as he threw up his hands and replied "Well that doesn't really get me up the grid? What the hell can I do, sit here and suck it up? What can I do? Tell me; if there's something I'm not doing, which clearly there is because at the best of times there's bloody… three cars up ahead of me, what is it? Please, tell me at your nearest convenience. It might be a great surprise to you, but I don't particularly enjoy hanging around at the back of the top ten, and if you're sitting on some details about shite I'm doing wrong, because I know it's something, you really ought to consider sharing it."

Lelouch didn't reply, and Suzaku, still cross, continued, "The car wasn't being developed last year either, we had our lead sponsor pull out and the car didn't advance past about Hungary. I still won the championship. It wasn't an excuse then, it's not now. So what if the car is shit? I should be better than that, I-"

Suzaku's voice tripped, as he choked on his words before looking down, ashamed.

"I shouldn't need a perfect car. If I were any good, if I… I'd be able to make poor cars work. But I can't even keep up with bloody Rolo, for gods sake… fuck me-"

His voice had now gone from unsteady and breathy to barely audible, stopping his already wispy mumbles to barely mouth the words, only just above a breath. After pausing to collect his thoughts, he garnered up a second wind, speaking with more vocal clarity and resonance, if not volume.

"I'm exhausted. I've spent every waking moment up either in the sim or the gym, trying to shave away a tenth, a hundredth, a thousandth. Please, tell me what I have to do. I'm putting more work in than I've ever done. So, tell me, why am I being beaten by Xingke and Rolo? Have I… god, god damnit."

Suzaku was now moving from sad to angry, the edges of his mouth curling into a snarl as his began shaking his head more fiercely.

"Perhaps last years car wasn't all that bloody terrible, if this is all I'm getting in this years one. Maybe… maybe last years car was really overpowered and we just didn't realise it. Maybe I'm only just getting a fair comparison now."

Lelouch let out a sigh, before pleading "Suzaku.."

"I mean… it was never talent, it was never talent that got me here." Suzaku ignored, having now built up substantial emotional momentum. "Xingke has talent. You had talent, you had little else, let alone money. Kallen has talent in abundance. All I had was stacks of money and no concept of healthy work habits, and devoted every waking hour into practice, so I always had the practice edge. Now that I'm teammates with someone with actual talent, this is just the exposing. I mean, perseverance was the only thing going for me, and now even that isn't working. I mean…"

The momentum ran out, as Suzaku, having already exhausted sadness, reached the end of his anger, and, as if he was speedrunning the stages of grief, seemed to move into forlorn acceptance.

"I remember when I was younger, you were there, in karting. I always thought there was nothing that I couldn't do, if I set my mind to it. Well I've found something I can't do, I've found my ceiling if you're saying there's no secret you're keeping from me. I can't keep the pace. I can't put this car up front."

Lelouch frowned disapprovingly, as Suzaku looked up through his fringe, head tilted down but eyes still meeting the Frenchmans. Suzaku had little doubt what he was thinking, but it still hurt to hear once Lelouch began to speak.

"Take this week off." he spoke, flatly. "No work, no practice between now and thisday week. If there's anything slowing you to this extent, it's exhaustion. You're too stretched out. You need to learn how to relax, you're wound up like a spring. I joked about karōshi, but your performance, if it's suffering at all, is because you're burning the candle at both ends and running out of wax. Your performance is being hurt by how hard you're working yourself, not helped. You're not getting proper sleep and you're fatigued."

Shaking his head, Suzaku sighed, almost resigned to his fate, before pleading "Lelouch, you know me. I can't do that, I can't rest unless I'm comfortable and getting better, and right now I've a lot of work to do in getting better. You're my friend, you know-"

"Yes, I'm your friend." Lelouch snapped back. "I want to see you next year, in the flesh, and not in a casket. Yes it's how you are, but that doesn't mean that it's healthy, or that I have to like it. You hated to see me in hospital after Brazil, right? How do you think I feel seeing you like this?"

As Suzaku cringed, Lelouch did not stop, using his familiarity with the Japanese heir to great effect, becoming colder as he continued "Moreover, our relationship isn't only friends anymore. I'm your employer, and as your employer I instruct you to calm the hell down. Take a break. If I catch you working, I will not hesitate to fire you."

Suzaku knew, whether Lelouch might and might not be right about regarding his performance, that that had not been a lie or a bluff. Lelouch would do it, that Suzaku had full belief in and awareness of, and so he could only look on as Lelouch maintained the stern tone.

"And we both know how much this means to you, so I'm confident that isn't going to happen. I know how hard this is for you. You don't want to hear it. You're angry, ashamed of yourself for not pushing through. I get that, but this is for your health. Now go home and relax."

Kallen only finished her joyous cheers and celebrations at half one the next morning, and, slightly inebriated, made her way to Nice and was on the morning flight to Shanghai by six.

Routed via Helsinki, the flight took fourteen hours all in, however, for complicated reasons involving the international date line, she arrived at just after one o'clock in the morning the next day Chinese time, and went straight to bed in an airport room, primarily as a function of averting jet lag.

She woke a few minutes past seven o'clock, feeling satisfied for having pre-empted the danger of long-distance travel, before showering in the in-house gym and getting a lift with the team for the trip to the circuit near Jiading, an hour north west of the airport by van. They arrived at half past nine, where they began to set up for the next weeks race.

Kallen meanwhile sat for a moment in the garage, sipping at a carton of apple juice. She had sobered up between the long flight and the sleep, and was feeling like getting back into work mode, even if, judging by how sparsely the grandstands and facilities were adorned. FOM would only arrive on the Sunday before the race, and spend four days setting up the facilities and sponsorship decals. However, unlike Monaco, it was a permanent circuit, which meant that track walks could be done effectively at will, which she very much intended to do at a later point.

But, as she saw in the corner of her eye a pink blur, she became aware that that later point in the future was quite far away indeed, as Euphemia McGlynn vibrated into view, literally oscillating with the resonance of a violin string in an incredibly amusing fashion as she moved into the garage. She then grinned, flashed the peace sign with her middle and forefinger, and cheerily began to talk, mouth opening and closing at an rpm approaching her engine at full chat.

"Hey Kallen! That was quite a show up there in Monaco, now wasn't it? We're not in Kansas anymore, but we'll be able to see about finding a quiet spot to have a chat, if that's alright?"

"My contract requires that I answer yes."

Euphemia laughed, slapping Kallen on the shoulder before replying "Now that's the enthusiasm we all love to see from our oh so choleric driver, mm? The go-get-'em attitude? Mm. Perhaps not, but maybe I'm just no fun to be around. I'm not as young as I used to be, after all."

Kallen rolled her eyes at the overdramatic display, before dryly replying "Euphemia, I'm fairly certain you're younger than I am."

She laughed again, shaking her head before replying "Indeed. It's Cornelia's bad influence I tell you. Anyway, the suits don't arrive for another week, so we can just stake out one of their booths and close the blinds, unless that makes you uncomfortable."

"Don't care too much." shrugged Kallen, understanding the importance of preventing isolation between therapist and patient, however Euphemia was far more dorky and bizarre than at all predatory. The session may even actually prove productive, given that, unlike Euphemia's office at Camelot HQ, the corporate suites were not littered with distracting tat. She knew it too, as she adopted a glum look as she pulled the door handle.

"We'll have to be doing it here. Quite clinical, but we can make do."

Kallen wasn't quite as dour about the whole situation, having a neat desk, carpeted floor, and nice view of the stadium on the far side of the pit straight. Laughing, Kallen replied "I suppose so, we'll scrape by with these lovely conditions and neat desks, woe is us."

"Neat is certainly not my style." Euphemia laughed. "I didn't think it was yours either. I was watching you put it on Pole on Saturday, and that was hardly organised, neat or put together. It was messy, sorta chaotic, all out. Very you, no?"

Kallen, after some hesitation, shook her head "I don't think so. I provoke the car, send it into all sorts of shapes, but it's never… it's never beyond me. It's hard to keep in check, I need to be thinking at a million miles a minute to keep up with the inputs, very precise, timed at just the right moment. And that changes lap by lap, with the track conditions, rubbering in, and so on, you need to keep aware of how the track is behaving and respond on the fly. It's like playing a massive piano riff. It looks like keyboard smashing, but it's more complicated than that to make a nice melody come out."

"I've counselled drivers for a few years, but that's the first time I've heard that analogy." Euphemia giggled. "I'll have to use it next time I pretend to know what I'm talking about to my mates about all of this. But anyway, let's get this started. Do you remember what we talked about the last time?"

"Yes, the anger iceberg."

"Very good. Can you go over what it's about, what it means?"

"Anger is more… more of a 'secondary emotion', you said. Anger is a response to a primary emotion, such as hurt, fear, or sadness. In that way it's kinda like an iceberg, the surface… the… visible bit, is anger, but the primary emotion has most of the ice underneath the water, out of sight."

Euphemia smiled and nodded, scribbling down a note before speaking again.

"Before we begin this weeks work, have you completed last weeks mood chart?"

"Filled it out on the flight over. Here you go!"

She took over Kallen's sheet, before reading through it aloud.

"Wednesday morning tired, Wednesday afternoon restless, Wednesday evening anxious, Thursday morning relaxed, Thursday afternoon surprised- why surprised?"

Kallen sighed, trying to remember back that far, quietly realising the whiskey had been quite a bit more effective than she realised at the time, before catching it and replying "A few things. Xingke was exhausted after FP1, which really caught me off guard. He was Mister Le Mans for a good few years, I thought he'd be in better shape. As well, I was on the pace right off the bat, which after Malaysia was quite the pleasant shock."

Euphemia nodded, and while Kallen doubted that she understood half of what Kallen had just said, the parts which were relevant to her explanation did not rely on an extreme amount of technical lingo.

And so, Euphemia simply continued to write and, not looking up from the page for a few moments, continued "Grand so. Thursday evening, excited, no doubt why, Friday morning bored, Friday afternoon bored, evening bored- I'm seeing a pattern, but anyway, worse moods to be in. Saturday morning, excited, afternoon, focused, evening, happy, can't sleep from excitement. Valid, you're just after getting Pole at Monaco. Sunday morning, threw up, have to focus, mm hm. Probably nerves, no panic on that end. Sunday afternoon is same as the evening, celebrating, very very drunk. Again, hardly unjustified. Monday morning bored, brings us up to Monday afternoon. How are you feeling right now?"

"Bored. Still riding high though at least."

Euphemia laughed at this honest assessment, before acknowledging "As you should be. Pulling a second a lap over the fastest car and driver combination on the grid right now is insane. Though I am interested in the bored element. This lines up with previous weeks. Are most things boring to you?"

Kallen shrugged, replying "Most things outside of a car really. I suppose once you've gotten accustomed to travelling at two hundred miles per hour and brushing barriers, everything else just seems deathly slow and dull."

"Noted." Euphemia smirked. "Anyway, I'd like to try and probe about a bit, ask a few questions about how you're getting on with… y'know, stuff that makes you angry. Has anything made you angry recently?"

"Well, I spun in Malaysia practice, but it wasn't a huge thing. Knocked the front wing. Lost some time to repairs, which was annoying, but it wasn't the end of the world. All part of getting to grips with how far you can push the car."

"Did you use the strategies we've talked about?"

Nodding, Kallen was able to answer "Aye. Deep breathing, the works."

"Very good." she smiled. "Now, I want to try something new. How you think about a situation can influence how you feel about it. For example, if you think that someone 'has it out for you', you will probably see all of their actions in a negative light. Let's go back to Brazil, last year. In what ways could changing how you think help you control how you feel?"

Kallen let out a breath through her cheeks. Her thoughts took a few moments to form around this new framework and perspective, which contributed to her hesitative response, replying as the words formed, regardless of the cadence and juddering feel the timing of the words communicated.

"How I thought… well, probably going back a good way, Lelouch was seen as suspicious. Naoto had talked about how he didn't trust him after Formula Three, and I had suspected he fiddled with my car in quali for Abu Dhabi so he could catch up. Then Naoto reiterated his warning on the flight to Brazil, so going in I had… I'd built up an expectation of it, I was looking for it, I was so ready to see his actions from that lens."

Euphemia nodded, looking pleased at the results the exercise, before asking "And what would you say now the situation was, now that you're out of the heat of the moment?"

Kallen sighed. She did not enjoy the answer to that question. She had not talked about it at all, as it would in some way legitimise what she did and take blame away from her, which she did not want to do. However, while she disliked it, it remained true.

"He did it on purpose."

Suzaku's week long holiday was supposed to relax him, to help him destress, release some of the elastic energy built up on his internal rubber band.

It hadn't worked. Suzaku was continually restless, to the point that, come Saturday evening, he was squatting outside the locked gates of the factory, just waiting for midnight to arrive so that he could leap the fence without technically violating trespass law under the contractual instructions he was given by Lelouch in Monaco. His so called holiday had been the worst week he could remember in the last five years, apart from Lelouch's first week in hospital, which was more depressing than enraging, and, as he looked at the tablet in his cockpit to survey the live feed of the track, he could only say he was absolutely delighted to be back.

Which, it could be argued, was an unintentional benefit of the holiday; with the non-consensual time away, Suzaku was impossibly pumped to get back in the hunt, past the moment of bitterness and anger after the Monaco race and now simply wanting to get back into the flow of working.

It had been two weeks since then, as Q1 for the Chinese Grand Prix was now just beginning. Cars were just now coming around the last hairpin and getting ready to begin their timed lap. Suzaku, wary of the reported rain arriving from the northwest, which would likely affect either turn six or turn thirteen before it made its way towards the pits.

The camera followed the championship leader, Li Xingke, as he made the best of the conditions, likely not wanting to risk waiting to see what the conditions were like. Suzaku looked on as the hometown hero moved around the snail-like first corner of the track shaped after the Hanzi 上, Shàng, for "upper" or "above", one of the two characters that formed the pinyin Shanghai.

However, Suzaku noticed something odd. Was it the… was it the natural haze of the area, or was Xingke's exhaust letting out white smoke?

It grew in intensity, confirming it, before Suzaku heard on the broadcast a radio call telling Xingke to pull over, and retire the car. The gearbox had died, just before turn six!

Suzaku swore, suddenly distracted from the weather as the smoke now billowed out from the exhaust of Xingke's car, before the machine came to a stop just off the track. What on Earth had gone wrong?

But then the other shoe dropped. This was Xingke's first timed lap of qualifying. He hadn't set a banker before this, meaning that so long as a driver set a time, no matter how dire, they would start ahead of Xingke.

Suzaku, as much as his mind hated that it leapt immediately to calculations regarding the race, it nonetheless sped to what implications this could have. Li's home race hopes had just become a great deal more distant, and Suzaku's chance of getting a podium had shot up immensely.

Slow chapter, hopefully the character stuff has kept ye all sated! Please review if ye can!

~G1ll3s