A/N: Posted slightly early due to real life and not being able to update tomorrow.

Chapter Seven

Sunday – The Race

The Winner car stopped in the designated spot in front of the garage, the man with the familiar colours of the team on his fire proof suit holding out the lollipop stick that signalled for Heero to keep the car still while his team removed the well-worn ties. A hand wiped a cloth over his visor to try and remove a small part of the dirt and debris he picked up as he drove around the circuit. His focused remained in front, at the small red circle that indicated stop, and he felt his heart rate level off – the six or seven seconds required to change an entire set of tires on a Formula 1 car the only break offered from the intensity of racing the Monte Carlo street circuit of the Monaco Grand Prix.

He felt the jolt of the car as the tires were changed, felt the vibrations due to the low position of the driver's body to the ground and he finally saw the lollipop turn to green in an instant in front of the car before it was raised to indicate he could leave the pit lane and exit back onto the circuit.

It was a safe release, the mechanic picking the right moment to let him leave, and he drove down the pit lane slowly due to the speed limit and the proximity of the mechanics.

"Six seconds," Trowa informed him.

"Maxwell?"

"Close."

Close. Damn it. This had been the tactic – the strategy that he and Trowa had discussed. That today they were only racing Duo – that the other cars were competitive, Chang maybe had a chance, but really it was only the other Winner car that would cause him trouble and therefore his focus was on Duo.

The start of his race had been flawless. The whole build up had been uncomplicated – his gym session uninterrupted by staring at Duo. He figured maybe Duo did his own work out somewhere else or had got up earlier or later. It didn't matter as he'd avoided seeing him and that was the important part of the race morning. He didn't think Duo would be particularly friendly this morning when the last thing that had happened between them was Heero walking out halfway through sucking him off. Heero would have been flaming pissed being left like that and he guessed Duo would feel exactly the same.

He'd done his pre-race interviews, their actions at yesterday's press conference seeming to satisfy most journalists well enough that they started talking about a more "friendly" rivalry and he'd even been polite to the fans – both the rich and famous and those that had managed to follow him for autographs and a few photographs. There was a point he couldn't avoid seeing Duo as they stood by their cars prior to the start, dressed in their race suits, helmets waiting to be put on. Their eyes had met briefly but then Duo's face had curled up into what could only be classed as a sneer and he'd looked away after that. It seemed that he had found a way to piss him off completely. It hadn't been his intention but it had been an effective way of ending all communication between them. It was only once Duo looked away, turning towards his own race engineer, that Heero felt an odd sensation in his chest. He couldn't tell if he regretted his actions but he didn't really have time to think about it as it was time to get into his car and focus on his race.

Heero's race start was flawless. He'd pulled up to P1 on the grid after the warm up lap and stopped his car in the lines freshly painted on for the race weekend. Those seconds before the red lights turned on, the five lights indicating it was close to the race start, were the moments that he held his breath, tightened his grip on the steering wheel and focused entirely on the road in front of him. In his head, he was already around the first few corners, clear track in front of him.

He glanced to the side, unable to see the second Winner car despite its close proximity and then returned his gaze to the lights as the five ones red went out and then turned green indicating go. The race start brought with it a sense of calm that could never be replicated anywhere. It was as though the pure adrenalin of racing crystallised in a moment and time stopped briefly before the sound of the engine, the sound of acceleration and the feel of forward momentum brought him back to the present and he was driving towards those first corners and with no car in his eye line. A flawless start.

Now he was leaving the pits, driving at the regulated speed limit – his last set of tires on and no more pit stops required. He'd been leading for the most of the fifty five laps, only losing his position during his first pit stop as that had allowed other drivers to take his position until they themselves needed to stop for a new set of Pirelli's. He would lose positions at this pit stop as other drivers passed but all that mattered was Duo's position.

Duo had already pitted, already had a fresh set of tires as Heero had tried to stay out on the track for a longer stint, something he had discussed with Trowa, yet the tactic did not seem to have worked as well as they'd hoped.

"Where is he?" Heero asked as the end of the pit lane approached.

Trowa didn't respond straight away but then it didn't matter as he exited the pit lane's speed limit area and was able to accelerate to a more competitive speed and he became aware of the one outcome he hadn't wanted from the tactic, from his long middle stint on his tires. They'd calculated that by staying out longer he could gain valuable seconds in the clean air of being at the front of the pack but instead, as he drove onto the track once again, he saw the other car the same as his own in his peripheral vision and there was a moment that Heero thought he may be able to get to the racing lane and maintain his race lead. That moment vanished as he exited the pit lane behind the other Winner Racing vehicle observing the back of it – close behind it, but behind it nonetheless. Clogged up in the dirty air. Fuck.

"He did better on new tires than we thought," Trowa said, finally, his way of explaining.

Heero grunted, now in the racing equivalent of a dog fight, the only saving grace being able to implement his DRS that would help enable overtaking. However, it would take a lap and he would have to spend time behind his teammate before he could use it. He gritted his teeth, feeling the anger surge in his veins. This had been the damn perfect race. Up until this point.

They both went over the start/finish line indicating the beginning of another lap and then they were headed towards the Saint Devote corner, the required slowing bringing the cars close together despite Duo's lead.

"Five tenths lead – overtake once you can use DRS."

The transmission from Trowa was short but it was what Heero had already intended to do. He just needed to stay on Duo's tail, maintain a short distance but one that he could easily overcome and not allow himself to let his emotions override his ability. Not like with Merquise.

He wanted to shake his head at that thought – banish that memory of spinning, of losing control, the knowledge that he had no power over his fate, his car providing little protection from the impact of a vehicle with a wall. It had been the last time his father had seen him race. And the last time his father had seen him, Heero had tried to overtake Merquise and ended up slamming himself into hard concrete. It had not been a glorious way for his father to see him before he died.

He had known then that his car would slow over the grass before impact. The images flashed before his eyes. And then his father's disappointment at his actions... He may have been dying at that point, his health beginning to fail, but it did not blunt his disappointment. He'd had no sympathy even when Heero had been airlifted to the hospital. Only a vague hint of disapproval.

It would not be like that this time. They rounded the famous Hairpin, the decrease in speed making them bunch even further together and it was then he would be in touching distance of Duo's car if he could reach out. On acceleration they moved further apart but there had been another moment of proximity that seemed potentially dangerous yet also brought with it another feeling.

It brought with it the feelings that he'd thought he'd banished. It was not helping his race strategy to be racing Duo like this. Images flickering behind his eyes of the way he looked – hot, sweaty, aroused, his head against a bathroom stall and then how his hand had felt against his face, gentle and soft.

Heero gripped his steering wheel harder as they drove through the Tunnel, remembering that this was his race and not those confused feelings that had occurred after the so-called casual exchange of blowjobs – that made him feel something more.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath – fully aware that they could transmit his communications across international television stations and that Trowa could hear him yet it was how he felt.

His concentration had been flawless up until this point. Everything had been flawless but now his mind was not thinking of the checkered flag, the podium, the Moet champagne they'd spray over an expecting crowd and taste of it – dry in his mouth but reminding him of victory. Instead it was thinking of how he'd acted and how he'd lost that chance he'd had with his teammate, his teammate merely five tenths in front of him, and now he had to retain some of that control. Be like his father. Winning was everything.

"Heero," Trowa said quietly. "Stay behind until you can deploy DRS."

"I will."

He wanted to snap back that he wouldn't make a reckless overtake manoeuvre. He knew how Trowa had felt after that crash, seeing it on the monitors, that he didn't move for a short time and there was that awful moment of silence as people wondered whether there would be movement. There had been few fatalities in Formula 1 in recent years, the technology vastly improved from seasons where drivers died regularly but he didn't say anything beyond his short answer. Maybe they didn't fuck around anymore but it had been after that crash he'd started sleeping with his race engineer, as he helped him through his rehabilitation and maintained his mental acuity through time spent on simulators. The concern was probably justified. Trowa could see how he was driving. Could see the data and read outs and realised he was perhaps trying to overtake before he should.

Heero maintained a safer distance through the Chicane, aware that if he was too close he could perhaps make contact, and he followed Duo's racing line through the corners expertly. He wondered briefly how Duo felt. He'd been blind, unknowing quite how close the car was behind him as he drove, aware of the hum of another engine and he would know the time in tenths that Heero was behind him but would not see him. In some ways, Heero was in the better position. Biding his time for the overtake. And if Duo made one slip up under the pressure of the vehicle just behind his ass, Heero would show no mercy.

The rest of the lap sped by fast, the advertising barriers a blur around him, the car in front of him the only thing he could focus on and then he'd reached the DRS detection point.

"Under one second," Trowa confirmed.

It was what he needed. DRS was only available to a driver one second behind another car, the system meant to help overtaking and make the race more entertaining for the spectator. Heero smirked. He was under one second and now he only had to get around La Rascasse corner and Anthony Noughes before he could deploy the system and he would be able to overtake with ease. He wondered if Duo knew – if he knew how his race lead would come to an end as he followed his car around the final corners, the start/finish line straight, and he was able adjust the rear wings of his car and create less drag in order to increase speed.

He accelerated, his hands flicking over the controls and he saw for a moment that Duo was not going to give up the racing line – but it didn't matter. Heero swerved to the side of him, the added boost of the system allowing him to align his car with his teammate's. For a few moments they were side by side, then Heero's began to inch forward, seeming impossibly slow for a moment despite the high speeds, and Duo's car was soon being left behind in his wake.

He began to brake, aware that Sainte Devote was soon but he felt the jolt, the jarring of contact and then the slight slipping of control. Heero tried to turn his head to see, unable to in his helmet and the cockpit configuration and he had a sudden awareness that they'd made contact.

Another jolt went through the car. The vehicle, light weight and designed for speed, made sounds of protest and Heero knew that the contact was more than he first thought and he could then see his teammate's car in a spin, the 260 kilometres average speed of the start/finish line meaning that Duo impacted heavily into the barriers. Debris from the car flew in the air and Heero saw a tire roll in front of him, hitting the barrier only moments before he tried to brake harder – but he was going too fast to do anything but brace for impact.

The car slammed head on, Heero's head jolting forward, his speed not quite as intense as it could've been but still his whole body shook – the cockpit providing little support.

For a moment, he only heard his own breathing and felt numbness until he heard the panic from his communication line.

"Heero? Damn it! Heero!"

It took a second for the numbness to subside and he looked at his hands shaking slightly as he detached the steering wheel.

"I'm fine."

He watched as a few cars slowly came through the rubble the crash had created and then pulled himself out of his cockpit as he observed the track marshal's attempt to approach the two wrecks. His whole body had felt the impact as he carefully removed his helmet and he looked back towards the other vehicle. It was in worse shape than his own car, two wheels missing and parts of the fibreglass frame scattered across the track. For a second, his eyes drifted to the other driver and the fact there had been no movement in that cockpit made him feel something clench in his chest.

Heero wondered if this was what it had been like to observe his own crash. To see a driver unmoving in the cockpit and he knew he needed to get off the track but he couldn't move – a part of him wanting to cross the debris strewn track to see whether his teammate was alive.

A few more cars passed, making their way through the wreckage and Heero finally saw movement, a hand raised and the steering wheel being removed. It was then he realised he'd stopped breathing for a few moments, taking a deep lung full of air as though remembering the process as he watched Duo clamber out of his car awkwardly, removing his helmet just as Heero had. Their eyes met across the tarmac, both standing in the searing heat of Monte Carlo, both Winner racing vehicles trashed beyond recognition, both probably bruised and sore. It was not the way Heero wanted to end his race weekend in Monte Carlo but even though he hated that damn smirk, that wink, those shrugs, when Duo gave a small smile to show he was okay, Heero could only feel fucking grateful he was alive.