Turbulence [𝗠.𝗩.]

♦ Austria, Race Day ♦

"We're losing lives in that corner. It needs to change. For me it's not even a discussion."

"It's something we cannot afford. What happened today, it has to be the last time that happens."

⸻

AUSTRIA
9TH RACE OF THE SEASON
JULY

The grid is packed. The sun is out. The track is thankfully dry. It's a good day to race... but there's a mild sting to it all. Everyone is still feeling the shock of yesterday's news. I haven't had a chance to check on Pierre again, but I plan to at least try and find him before we have to get to racing. I know I should be focused on the race, but I can't settle until I make sure certain things are squared away.

"Jess!" A loud, nasally voice shouts. I turn around, pausing in my search for Pierre to see Lance trying to push past a TV crew to come and talk to me. He instantly covers his mouth, having to lean in real close because all we can hear is machinery and blaring music and general crowd noise. "Thanks for what you said yesterday, about Dilano and the track."

I tilt my head, mildly confused. I said what I felt, what most of us were saying: this has to be the last time this ever happens at that damn turn again. There has to be change, somewhere, somehow. "Everyone agrees, Lance. It's fucking dangerous. Hell, I'm sure we've all had a near-miss there. Something has to change, and it's fucking ridiculous that once again, it takes someone losing their life before the FIA or whoever is in charge of whatever decisions happen do something about it."

It's an awful cycle. A repetitive one in many sports. Nothing changes until someone is hurt, or worse. And besides; I was being asked about my own terrifying near-miss. I wasn't happy to have people focusing on the wrong thing. They should've been asking about what had happened to Dilano, not me. His life—

Sometimes I really hate the media.

"I just keep thinking about it. He was a kid." Lance's words make me refocus myself. Right. He's hurting too.

I reach out with one hand, to grab his upper arm gently. "I know. It's not fair. But you did the right thing, Lance. You are right: we should be pushing for safety. You're doing what you can."

Someone interrupts us, their hand touching my shoulder; I turn to see Esteban has come up to us. "Let's go."

The two of us follow him to where the rest of drivers are gathered, waiting for the minute silence that will be held for Dilano. I pull away from the two as I spot Pierre, moving to check on him silently. He gives me a quick thumbs-up. I'm not sure I want to take that as a final answer, but it'll do for now.

The mood shifts as we head back to our cars. I pull on my helmet and get into my black and aqua Jaguar. The engine growls as it idles behind my back. A single, slow inhale helps me steady myself. As I exhale, I let go of everything. All of it. I reach up and flick my tinted visor down.

It's time to get some points.

The first turn is absolutely mad. Everyone scrambles to get ahead, and I choose to floor it as soon as I can out of there so I don't get caught unawares. I don't know my position, only that I'm behind a McLaren - I think it's Norris - as someone goes flying into the gravel behind me. I glance at my mirrors as we all speed along the track; Fernando Alonso is behind me, but his pace seems off. He's either playing the shark game of waiting for me to screw up, or he's having problems already with his car. I hope it's the latter.

A safety car alert comes up on my dashboard. I instinctively press the white TALK button on my steering wheel.

"What happened?"