Fic: Interconnection, Part 12
Pairing: Mark Webber/Sebastian Vettel
Rating: M
Synopsis: Post-Abu Dhabi, Christian contemplates the unstable dynamic between his two drivers
Word count: 1,511
Disclaimer: Didn’t happen, never will. Don’t like, don’t read.
Interconnection, Part 12
Christian was beginning to feel well and truly confounded.
There was something distinctly off-kilter about the relationship between his two drivers. In India, he’d sat them down on the Thursday - before any driving had begun - in an attempt to discern how their self-initiated mediation attempts were going. Mark had seemed annoyed at the intrusion, but Sebastian had remained calm during the session, simply explaining that conversations were taking place and that the two of them still weren’t happy with how those conversations were going. On the face of things then, it appeared that the pair were heading in the right direction.
But a little over a week later, Christian still couldn’t shake the feeling that Sebastian’s answers had been too composed. Rehearsed, even. Even Mark’s public remarks for the last two weeks had an odd sounding ring to them. True, the acceptance of Sebastian’s dominance sounded typically mature to most; a sign of Mark’s sportsmanship and classiness. But as the long-serving team principal, Christian’s alarm bells had been set off - Mark had taken philosophical to a whole new level, as if retirement had washed an eerie calm over him. Was it the impending sense of freedom from Sebastian’s shadow? Certainly, in India, Mark had been able to smile in the wake of his alternator failure. And just today, he’d been so gracious on the Abu Dhabi podium, admitting Sebastian was in a completely different category.
Christian was sure hidden factors were at play and that he wasn’t making these suspicions up. There were whispers of incidents outside of the garage, some of them running in direct opposition to what the two drivers had claimed in the sit-down meeting. What they had described as ‘civil enough’ conversations that took place every now and again turned out to be completely different in reality.
Two engineers had reported a spat in the hospitality area after qualifying in India, one they had no choice but to overhear. Mark had apparently told Sebastian that the weekend was ‘not a good time, especially because of the championship’, to which Sebastian responded that Mark was ‘stalling again’. The situation then replicated itself in Abu Dhabi after Friday’s second practice, with a press officer and a mechanic saying they’d heard yelling from Sebastian’s hotel room, the gist of which seemed to revolve around someone being ‘tired of waiting’ and ‘needing more’.
It was all a little too personal. And while the two drivers had seemed okay during the team photo a mere hour and a half ago, Christian could see that Heikki was now eyeing Mark in suspicion as the Australian left the festivities early to attend an awards presentation for the lower racing divisions.
Adrian too had noticed Heikki’s presence, and mentioned as much when he came over to hand Christian a drink.
‘I think Charlie was worried post-race about Heikki hugging Sebastian before he was weighed, as if a hug could tamper with weight. But I did hear there was an argument about Mark yesterday, so I’m glad he and Seb have patched things up. Heikki’s good for his focus, you know?’
Christian frowned. As far as parties went, this one was surprisingly big and bold on account of the location - 250 people at the Podium Lounge at Yas Viceroy. He actually found himself wishing he was back in the garage so he could share more of his suspicions with Adrian without being overheard or accused of being shady or anti-social.
‘Argument? Because Mark got pole?’
Adrian shrugged. ‘I assume so.’
‘No, I’m not so sure…’
Christian scanned the buzzing crowd. Sebastian looked relaxed enough, and was even sporting a humorous t-shirt about keeping calm and Jager bombing. Surely he had no time for tensions, what with all the fanfare and his parents here.
Though come to think of it, Hanna wasn’t here as originally planned.
‘Don’t you think it’s odd that both of them did donuts?’ Christian wondered out loud before taking a sip of his drink.
‘Mark’s allowed to be happy with a solid second. Plus, the stewards didn’t even see his - I don’t think FOM had it on camera, did they?’
‘Hmmm.’
The speculation was probably making him look paranoid, Christian figured. Perhaps it was paranoia. His brain had had a lot to focus on, what with the birth of his daughter and then the success of the constructors’ and Sebastian’s championships. It was as if his brain was trying to hint at a state of things that didn’t exist; a reversionary reaction to being overwhelmed with reality.
Christian refocused on the crowd - the team, really - and realised Sebastian was looking his way.
Making eye contact, Christian raised his glass, with Adrian following suit. Soon enough, the four-time world champion was heading their way with Heikki in tow, the crowd parting in awe as the man of the moment passed by.
‘Thanks again for today,’ Sebastian said with an earnest smile on arrival. His face lit up when referring to the race; even after all this success, he was still this excited.
Adrian grinned in reply. ‘You’ve said that a hundred times tonight. It’s okay, Seb! We get it.’
‘No, it really is fantastic though.’
Christian chuckled, though it was a touch forced. ‘You’re just happy you didn’t get a penalty for the donuts.’
Sebastian shrugged, a little bashful at his spontaneity. ‘Hey, Mark did them too.’
The comment was ever so casual, and delivered without pointed hostility, too. Yet it was enough to make Heikki flinch.
It must’ve been the mention of the other driver.
‘Where is he, by the way?’ Sebastian asked, scanning the room and then craning his neck when he couldn’t spot him.
‘Oh, something for GP2? He went to meet Ann there,’ Adrian answered. ‘You went to see Daniil win earlier, right?’
‘Oh, yes…I did.’ Scratching the back of his neck, a now distracted Sebastian then excused himself. ‘I’m just going to make a phone call home. Back in a bit.’
Heikki was clearly perturbed, and didn’t seem wholly comfortable with being left behind as Sebastian rushed off. After a bit of chat about the race, he made a beeline for Britta. Christian saw the two staff members in animated discussion, but was forced to look away when several engineers and a member of Middle Eastern royalty came over to hang with him and Adrian.
By the time he looked back, Heikki and Britta were heading in the direction of the exit Sebastian had likely used to get to the stairwell. Despite being no Sherlock, Christian excused himself from the group he was with and also joined the pursuit. Past the neon-lit bar, past groups of his employees, past Alain Prost and other revered folk. The music was pumping, his heart was pumping, his stomach was sinking.
He opened the door a fraction, only to accidentally hit the solid-built Heikki. Surprised, Britta merely raised a finger to her lips as Christian snuck through the opening. With the noise of the door opening and closing not so obvious against the noise of the party, the three of them then focused on eavesdropping on Sebastian, who was a level below but talking loud enough for his words to echo in the space.
‘You could have said something!…I’m not being childish…Yes, I know my family is here. That doesn’t mean -…Oh, come on. Ann only came because she was suspicious…It’s not about Mitch. I’m not angry about that…Austin is two weeks away!’
Heikki and Britta exchanged looks as Sebastian stayed silent for a bit. They both came off as embarrassed in Christian’s view, whether they were embarrassed at eavesdropping or embarrassed over what they were overhearing, he wasn’t exactly sure.
Suddenly, Sebastian started talking again.
‘Yeah, okay,’ he replied sullenly. ‘All right…I get it…But you know why I’m frustrated, right?…It’s not just that. Obviously…Whatever, don’t make a big deal about it…Okay, yes. All right, love you, bye…Shit, I didn’t actually mean to say that. That’s just a phrase. Fuck. Don’t read into that…Wait, are you fucking laughing at me?’
Maybe it was the mix of Red Bull and too many quandaries, but Christian had no idea what he’d just stepped into by overhearing the exchange. Britta seemed frozen in shock. Heikki looked sickly, green almost. Yet there was still a slim chance that Sebastian was talking to someone else…
‘That’s not funny, Mark. Don’t be an arsehole…Yes, I’ll text you later… Okay, no more sexts this weekend, I promise…Yep, bye.’
It was then that Christian knew for sure that this wasn’t a typical squabble between teammates.
If they weren’t in Abu Dhabi, he’d be all for bleaching his brain and drinking the night away. Because this, whatever ‘this’ was, was not in the Team Principals’ handbook, though by the looks of it, it wasn’t in the physio’s handbook either. PA, perhaps, depending on who you worked for…
Sebastian Vettel: four world titles, one surprising secret.