Fic: Interconnection, Part 13
Pairing: Mark Webber/Sebastian Vettel
Rating: M
Synopsis: Post-season, Sebastian visits the factory to distract himself
Word count: 2,423
Disclaimer: Didn’t happen, never will. Don’t like, don’t read.
Interconnection, Part 13
‘Seb? Didn’t expect to see you in today…’
Sebastian looked up from the cafeteria table he was seated at. Though a month had passed since he and Christian had had that fateful conversation about Mark, things were still weird between him and his boss. He’d hoped that Christian would’ve been able to look past it - certainly, everyone affected had tried to act their ‘normal’ selves in Austin and Sao Paolo, himself included. But the fact was, at the end of the day, after the car was dissembled and the garage closed down, the truth would always be sitting there uncomfortably in the pit of their stomachs.
If Christian was uncomfortable, he didn’t show it too visibly. There were people around. So he waited until his champion driver spoke.
‘Yeah, didn’t want to be at home,’ the German said, looking him in the eye.
The sustained eye contact struck Christian as brave in the circumstances. He nodded and then took a half step back, as if subconsciously recognising he was up in Sebastian’s space.
‘Well, good luck in the simulator. Maybe catch up with Adrian, if you can.’
Sebastian shrugged. ‘Sure.’
‘And I think Dan would like to catch up with you in the new year -’
‘It’s a bit early.’
Talk of Mark’s replacement had evoked the clipped response. Sebastian felt played at the mention of Daniel - was Christian trying to test him?
‘Okay, fair enough.’
Fair enough. He had more than his share of luck. Things were always more than fair, and if they weren’t, he made his own luck.
But the man who consumed his thoughts was notorious for having bad luck in F1. Together, they’d tempted fate.
And lost.
*
‘Christian…I heard you wanted to talk to Mark.’
As soon as the statement left his lips, Sebastian knew he’d initiated a watershed conversation. Indeed, Christian couldn’t help but frown at the opening line. From who else would Sebastian have heard such a thing if not Mark himself?
The sentence hung in the air. Sebastian began to fidget at the distinct lack of surprise in Christian’s expression. His boss looked older than usual, as if the conflict between his drivers had aged him. Forget being a new parent - in some respects, he’d been a reluctant guardian to his two Red Bull charges, attempting to guide them without really managing them.
Well, he was attempting to manage them now, at the end, by speaking to the older driver. Except the younger driver had a problem with that approach because it suggested that he was too fragile to be the one confronted.
‘Take a seat,’ Christian said from behind the desk.
It was a bare-bones operating centre here in Austin, nothing like their European trackside bases. The assigned office was strangely underwhelming - no frills, no fanfare. Sure, they weren’t about being showy, but stripping things back like this was ominous. Uncomfortable. It drew parallels. Strip back the car’s livery and it’s the machine you’re looking at; Newey’s genius and a Renault engine. Strip back the rivalry between the two Red Bull drivers and there was…what?
The rivalry couldn’t be removed. It defined them. Strip it back layer by layer, and all you’d see is the complexity of the damage, layers upon layers.
Christian had likely asked Mark ‘for a word’ because Mark was the departing driver. He told it like it was, and the team principal didn’t have time for bullshit. If a situation imploded in the team, it’d be Sebastian and the team who would have to pick up the pieces. Mark was apparently the one mature enough to stop this, if asked.
From this assumption, Sebastian had recognised a problem with the status quo. It was time for him to grow up and take responsibility. So he sat down and explained why he was here.
‘You don’t have to speak to Mark. You can speak to me if there’s a problem.’
He gripped the sides of the chair, only to loosen his grip when he figured this would be an obvious sign of anxiety. He’d had Britta and Heikki acting like this ever since Abu Dhabi, so he knew how to spot the signs.
‘Mark is leaving,’ Christian reasoned, clasping his hands together. ‘Some things can only be said on parting.’
‘Some things should be said to those who are staying.’ Sebastian swallowed before continuing. He could feel the onset of a nervous sweat coming on. ‘You don’t have to coddle me. You can say it to me.’
The team principal paused lengthily, taking the time to consider his next move, as well as trying to predict Sebastian’s next move.
‘There’s nothing really to discuss -’
‘Don’t lie to me. We’ve won four championships together. Don’t lie to me.’
It was an oddly arrogant statement and Sebastian knew it was laced with hypocrisy. He’d been lying about Mark, at least by omission, for a good while now.
Christian finished his calculations, though even he was unsure as to his judgement. Say the wrong thing, and he could compromise the performance of his champion. Not that they needed to win more races, but still.
‘Your private life is your own business,’ he began gingerly, all while studying the minutiae of Sebastian’s expression. ‘But when it unsettles key parts of the team, some discretion may be required. If you know what I’m saying.’
He did know what his boss was saying. Sebastian had grilled Heikki and Britta on their odd, jumpy behaviour, and while he hadn’t managed to get a full answer from either of his employees, the hint here and there about the spotlight being on Mark’s retirement gave him the impression he was being advised to stay away just in case someone noticed something was off. Off as inon. Mark, too, had kept a distance, though that was also a result of their argument about the ‘I love you’ that wasn’t.
A stinging pain pierced Sebastian’s stomach, behind his navel. It made him think of umbilical cords and attachments and births and detachments and…just plain cutting the cord.
Sebastian’s mouth had gone dry. ‘Unsettled? What parts of the team are we talking about?’
‘Support staff. Some of the boys in the garage, too. Myself. Not everyone, admittedly, but enough to cause concern. We’ve been working together closely for a long time. Changes in dynamic can be picked up on after a while. It would be prudent to end the season - Mark’s last two races - without such, uh, an entanglement becoming a bigger issue.’
‘Entanglement?’
Frazzled, Christian quickly shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know what to call it.’
‘No, it’s…okay.’
A heavy silence descended. As Christian’s cheeks flushed, Sebastian questioned why he himself wasn’t already blushing. Perhaps this was beyond regular embarrassment. Perhaps blushing meant shame, and he wasn’t a hundred percent sure about his own guilt these days. Sometimes he felt it - like when Hanna was in his arms or when Mark muttered hopeless statements under his breath. And sometimes he didn’t - like when he was pressed up against Mark, fisting his t-shirt and kissing him as if the world was about to end.
He’d reneged the ‘I love you’. At first, on that phone call, Mark had laughed, presumably at the absurdity of the slip. Later, though, when Mark informed him that his family and Ann would be here in Austin, Sebastian had cruelly thrown the take-back in his face, jokingly reiterating that he was relieved they weren’t ‘really together’.
Now they were barely speaking. The mention of Christian had been necessary on a base level; required disclosure. Sebastian would have to wait until Brazil - when they were family-free - for a chance to mend things.
Christian cleared his throat. ‘So…can you two just keep things on the down low?’
‘That won’t be a problem - his family is here. He doesn’t want fuss in Brazil.’
‘Right.’ Christian sighed in relief, though the relief turned out to be short-lived. ‘And speaking of Brazil, we’re having a team dinner for him just before. I’m not asking you to act uncivil so as to keep up appearances…just…exercise discretion. There will be a lot of cameras around these next two weeks.’
‘Okay.’
Shock was beginning to register with Sebastian. He had really confronted his boss about this. He’d taken the hit for Mark, sparing him from a conversation that would’ve riled him up and humiliated him.
‘Including my birthday this weekend. I hear I’m being given cake. Photographers will be there, so play nice. Uh, for lack of a better expression.’
The mutual mortification in this instance made Sebastian want to reveal that he wasn’t actually sleeping with Mark. Such a clarification, however, didn’t seem worth the trouble, especially if Mark were to forgive him and give sex a shot before they were over for good.
‘Understood.’
*
Thirty minutes later, Sebastian was still pushing his food around his plate. Rocky, who was hanging around nearby, decided not to ask his driver when he’d be ready to start work - this was extra practice anyway. With all the engine (or ‘power unit’) changes for next year, the simulator wasn’t exactly calibrated for optimum accuracy at this stage. The engineer surmised that Sebastian needed a bit of therapy, hence the unnecessary driving sessions.
Deciding to keep occupied while he continued to wait, Rocky went over to the beverage bar to refill his cup of tea. While he was there, he bumped into Adrian, who had come by to grab a cup of coffee - he needed to keep himself going while working on the RB10 design in his office.
‘How is he?’ Adrian asked quietly, sidling up next to Rocky.
‘I don’t know. In a weird place, I think.’
‘Maybe he’s worried about next year. Bit of an unknown.’
Rocky paused. ‘That would explain the radio messages about appreciating the now.’
‘Seems like more than that, though.’
Rocky glanced around before whispering his next comment. ‘Mark’s retirement? Perhaps some regret. You spoke to him at length after Brazil… did he say anything?’
Adrian scratched his chin. ‘Just that if the pit-stop had been followed by another error, he maybe wouldn’t have minded if Mark had won. But it was a very flippant comment. I don’t think he meant it.’
‘Mark wouldn’t like a gifted win.’
‘Wouldn’t have liked. Past tense now.’
‘Yes, true.’
When he saw Sebastian getting up, Rocky took his cup of tea and bid Adrian goodbye. He hurriedly chased after his driver - as much as he could hurry with a cup of tea - into the corridors of the factory.
‘Seb, wait up! No need for a fastest lap now.’
‘Oh.’ The German stopped and spun around, a little sheepish. ‘Sorry.’ He then let Rocky fall into step with him as he resumed walking. ‘Just in another world right now…’
He started to slow though, having caught sight of the conference room he and Mark had had a moment in earlier in the season. It took him to a painful place; it was hard for him to shake off.
‘Okay, we’re not a Caterham,’ Rocky joked. ‘Let’s pick up the pace.’
‘Sorry.’
‘I know you’re going to say you’re fine, but is everything okay?’
Sebastian sighed and dug his hands into his pockets. ‘I made the mistake of telling my girlfriend I cheated on her. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.’
‘Oh.’ It was a lot for Rocky to take in whilst on the move. This was not the Sebastian he knew - well, the regret was, but not the cheating. ‘Did she break up with you?’
‘No. Didn’t even ask who it was or why. I don’t know why I’m so lucky. I don’t deserve it.’ He seemed to want to say more, but left it there. ‘Anyway, let’s get some laps in…’
Rocky was so staggered by the confession that he had trouble setting up the session. Sebastian didn’t seem to mind though. After all, the simulator wasn’t real life, and if anyone was having trouble switching between what was real and what wasn’t, then he certainly wasn’t in a place to judge.
*
An hour later, not too far away from the factory, Mark was in his kitchen, waiting for Mitch to text him back about training. Mark hadn’t been able to attend his own charity even in Tasmania, but his protege had gone. He was grateful for that presence, for even if his schedule hadn’t been so crushingly hectic, he wouldn’t have been in a state of mind to go.
Retirement from F1 was a relief - emotional relief, but relief nonetheless. Yet other factors remained, like a hangover that should’ve been over several benders ago.
A text came through. It wasn’t from Mitch, though. It was from Sebastian.
I’ve given you space. Let’s talk.
Mark was okay with the way his season ended - with the way his Formula One career had closed. Given, he hadn’t really expected to come third in the championship. Nor had he expected to feel the pride at having finished with a podium with two greats.
Remove the championships though, strip that back, and he’d been standing up there with his long-time buddy on the third step and his problematic ‘lover’ on the first.
Former lover, he reminded himself.
Mark picked up the phone and sent back a message.
Season’s over. It’s over. We’re over.
If something could’ve been different about Brazil, Mark would choose for Lewis to not have had that accident with Bottas. That third place in the championship should’ve been Lewis’s - or Kimi’s for that matter. Now he had an invitation to next week’s FIA Gala in Paris, where Sebastian would get his fourth championship presented to him.
The reply from Sebastian was swift:
It’s not over. See you next week.
Rather than retaliating with a text about how Hanna would be Sebastian’s date for the gala, Mark left it. If Sebastian wanted to push his luck and continue to be in denial, then so be it. Mark didn’t have the energy to fight the misery that came with being tied to him in any way. The link between them was severed; no F1 meant no team, no teammate. Sebastian would come to his senses soon.
Meanwhile, the only things on Mark’s agenda this week were red wine and chocolate - indulgences he would enjoy alone. So after Mitch texted back, Mark turned his phone off. Silence was the greatest sound now… even more epic than the sound of a retired V8.