Et si tu n'existais pas - Lance Stroll (III)

1 - AU MILIEU DU FEU

Au Milieu du Feu

"In the Heart of the Fire" or "Amid the Flames" in English. It conveys the idea of being caught in the center of a turbulent, intense situation—surrounded by chaos, challenge, or conflict, with no clear way out.

Pierre's POV, 10 minutes after the incident: 

After the red flag, the paddock was thick with noise. The engines had stopped, but it was louder than during the race, as people were shouting to one another in the aftermath of the horrible incident that just unfolded in front of their eyes. Something had changed not just on the track but in the hearts of those left behind in the chaos of the paddock. The red lights were on, a reminder that something had gone horribly wrong.

I burst into the paddock, my mind racing faster than the cars ever could, searching desperately for Amelia. I had driven back to the pitlane as fast as I could and was allowed, and had jumped out of my car heading for my girlfriend. I was more worried about her condition than that of my crashed opponent in that moment. My heart was beating in my chest, and for a second, I feared the worst—seeing the love of my life lost to something I couldn't protect her from, which could make her realize that Lance was who she belonged with anyways. But then I saw her, huddled near the fence. Crying, fragile, and very much alone.

Her usually friendly face was softened, broken, like a shattered glass, her eyes filled with tears over as she stared at nothing. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, shoulders shaking as she wrapped her arms around herself. Her face was pale, full of mascara, and her mouth trembled while she was sobbing.

I didn't hesitate for a second, and stepped forward, making my way through the group of spectators, media, and team members who had gathered around my girlfriend in silence.

"Amelia," I called gently, my voice barely cutting through the noise around us.

She didn't respond, so I dropped down beside her, keeping my voice low and soft. "Hey, look at me," I whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her body jolted as if my touch brought her back to reality, her eyes meeting mine, wide, the panic visible in every single look that she gave me.

"Pierre..." she blubbered, her voice trembling. The single word contained so much emotion. Pain, anger, fear and a slight sense of grief that was already forming. As if she was preparing herself for the worst.

And still, in a situation like this, I felt the familiar sting of jealousy as I watched her emotions go so high over someone else. Lance. Her heart had bled for him first, and that sting reminded me that, despite everything, Amelia still hadn't completely forgotten him. I knew it was wrong to think like that, but my protective instincts were stronger than my empathy in that moment.

"It's okay. I'm here," I said, my voice hard yet soothing, in a desperate attempt to set my own feelings aside.

As I looked into her eyes, I saw how deeply she cared for Lance, how scared she was to lose him. That's normal, she's known him for almost her whole life. He was her childhood love. I brushed it off, pushing away the jealousy that threatened to consume me and make me lose my temper in the delicate situation I was currently in. I held her gaze for a moment, trying to calm both of us down.

Unfortunately, the press had noticed us now, their cameras flashing and microphones put forward as questions bombarded us. I clenched my jaw, my hand squeezing Amelia's shoulder a little tighter as I positioned myself in front of her, as a shield against the cameras.

"Back off!" I barked, my voice sharper and louder than usual. I glared at the reporters, my eyes darkening as if they got filled with venom in that exact moment. That gaze alone was enough to silence some of them. "Give her some fucking space!" I screamed. 

But they acted as if they didn't hear me, the flashing lights continuing. It was one thing to feel jealousy or frustration, but another to see the woman you love being captured in a moment like that. I could feel the anger bubbling up inside of me, threatening to spill over.

"Can't you see she's going to get a heart attack if you continue like this?!" I shouted, my voice loaded with fury.

Still, the cameras didn't stop flashing, their questions kept coming as more reporters arrived to the scene, eager to capture her raw emotion, to spin the pain into a story for their newspaper, rushing to be the first to publish the footage. My fists clenched, and for a moment, I considered doing something stupid. I would do anything to make them leave her alone.

But instead, I forced myself to take a deep breath, focusing on what mattered: my Amelia.

I threw off my racing jacket, draping it over her shoulders. It was a gesture that went beyond words, offering her some sort of warmth and comfort, but also something more. As if I was trying to show her that I was going to be her shield when she needed it.

"Come on," I said softly, helping her back on her feet, keeping my arm around her as we made our way through the crowd, blocking her from the cameras as best I could. We stepped through the group of people, moving away from the chaos and flashing cameras, towards a quieter part of the paddock where she could breathe again and where she was shielded from the press.

When we were finally alone, she looked up at me, her eyes filled with tears, and something else. Something I couldn't read. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking, I desperately wanted to know if, in this moment it was me she needed and not someone else.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I nodded, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath as my hands searched her face. "You don't have to thank me, Amelia. I'd do anything for you, mon ange." I said, and gave her a soft kiss on the tip of her nose

"I... I can't stop thinking about him, I'm sorry Pierre" she admitted, her voice breaking, guilt spreading across her face.

My heart twisted, jealousy rising once more, but I forced myself to remain calm. This wasn't about me, it was about her and whatever it took to make her heal, even if that meant listening to her ramble about Lance.

"I understand," I replied, my tone as gentle as possible, though it cost me a whole lot of effort to not sound angry. "But remember, you're not alone, Amelia. You don't have to go through this alone." I reminded her once again. 

She looked at me, and for a moment, it seems as if she was genuinely happy that I was here.

I offered her a small, reassuring smile, my hand gently resting on her shoulder. "Take it one day at a time. I'll be here, whenever you need me. Even if I have to come get you at the end of the universe. You know that I'd do that for you, right? I'd drive to the end of the fucking universe." 

"Even after all of this?"

"Always."