Turbulence [𝗠.𝗩.]

♦ Brazil, Race Day Cont ♦

"Confirmed disqualification for James Webb. He would have been classed as a DNF for abandoning his car as per the regulations, but he left it in the racing line, so the stewards have decided to take things a step further, which seems pretty harsh, given he was already considered out of the race after he abandoned the Haas to check on Jessica."

"It's absolutely too harsh in my opinion, and we know the stewards intend to investigate the incident after the race, but I don't see any way that James Webb and Esteban Ocon were at fault. I don't think anyone can be blamed here, it was just a very unfortunate incident."

"Indeed it was, Crofty. I can confirm we've had an update from the team. They're telling us that although Jessica is injured, she's stable."

"That's the best news we could hope for here. It's never good to watch these things happen, and although it's a risk of the sport, everyone knows that, it's always a shock."

⸻

BRAZIL
20TH RACE OF THE SEASON
NOVEMBER

Brilliant white burns my eyes. I raise a weighted hand to shield myself from it.

Where am I? I was in the car. What's—

"Dieu merci!"

My eyes snap open fully, blinded again by the light as I try to focus my sight.

Esteban is here. I'm... I'm lying down.

Oh.

The crash.

Oh god.

Aches rise up in my body, along with awareness. I can finally keep my eyes open, and Esteban looks pretty rough. His face is partially drained of colour, but he wears an expression of relief that isn't really offsetting how awful he looks. His hand grasps mine and I'm just... I don't know. I still feel like I'm not in my body. Like I'm still in the car.

The silence that's fallen as I'm trying to regain my senses is broken by Esteban's shy voice.

"If it helps, my car is completely ruined too?"

I force my weighted head to turn to the right, so I can properly look at him. "I shouldn't have kept fighting for the spot for that long."

Sadness strikes his face. His hand holds onto mine a little tighter. My body feels like it's moving again, but I'm not. I'm still lying here, in a sterile room, under a pristine white sheet. I swallow an uncomfortable lump in my throat, and it hurts. A brief memory flickers over my mind: the taste of bile before I blinked and the world changed.

"Jessica." Esteban starts, once again breaking the silence, but this time his tone is serious, layered with regret. "I am so sorry—"

"No." I won't have him apologise. Not for this. I'm alive. I walked away... mostly. "This was an accident, Esteban. Shit happens."

He opens his mouth, and I watch the words die on his tongue as he changes his mind. I know he'll keep blaming himself. I can't stop that guilt. I can only remind him that for all the fear I have yet to feel, I don't blame him for something that I could have played a part in preventing. Eventually, Esteban sighs, nodding, I think to himself more than me.

A yawn forces its way out of my chest; I barely get a hand up in time to cover my mouth. My chest sharply stabs at my nerves as I do so. I try to ignore it. Because I know what it means. I don't need to be told.

And I don't want to face it right now.

I blink. I'm facing the window now. It's dark outside. My head still hurts, but the fog has lifted somewhat. A groan escapes me as I turn my head to investigate the sensation of someone holding my hand—