Chapter Text
Kimi was the first person outside of Ollie’s family to step foot in the emergency room. Jack’s parents were already in his room, and Ollie still had a long while before he was cleared for visitors. The doctor had said he was shaken up. That was supposed to be reassuring, but it only made Kimi feel worse. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t by his side when it mattered most. The thought made his stomach twist, nausea creeping up his throat.
His hands were trembling as he walked up to the front desk, his fingers drumming impatiently against the counter. The receptionist looked up, startled by the sudden noise.
The receptionist looked up at him, her expression neutral but weary, as if she’d already had a long night. Her tone was polite, but there was an edge of exhaustion behind it as she asked, “Can I help you?”
Kimi nodded, maybe too quickly. His head was spinning, his body barely keeping up with the adrenaline still coursing through him. “Is Jack Doohan open for visitors?” His voice came out rougher than intended, strained from the hours of tension sitting in his chest.
The receptionist’s brow lifted slightly, no doubt recognizing him from the multiple times he’d come up asking about Ollie. He knew the answer by now, but it didn’t stop him from asking. Desperation made people stupid.
She hesitated before answering, offering a weak, almost sympathetic smile. “Yes, he is.”
Kimi exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he processed that. He should feel relieved that at least one of them was stable enough for visitors, but it only made his stomach churn more. Was it embarrassing? Being the only driver to show up? The only one pacing these halls, feeling like he was going to be sick every time he asked for Ollie?
Maybe it was. But he didn’t care.
Without another word, he turned and made his way toward Jack’s room, his steps heavy, his mind still stuck on Ollie.
Kimi barely had time to react before he collided straight into Mick Doohan, who was just stepping out of Jack’s room. The impact was sudden, and Kimi felt his face heat up as he scrambled for words.
“I—um—” He cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound more composed. “I’m gonna see Jack. Sorry.”
Mick gave him a nod, a firm pat on the shoulder before moving past him without another word. Behind him, Jack’s mother followed closely, her gaze lingering on Kimi for just a moment. There was something in her eyes that made his chest tighten—a rawness, a grief that hadn’t quite settled yet. She had been crying. Of course, she had. Her son had just been in a crash, and Kimi knew better than anyone how quickly those moments could turn from terrifying to tragic.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside Jack’s hospital room. The second Jack saw him, his brows furrowed in confusion.
“Wrong room,” Jack mumbled, his voice still a little groggy. He gestured vaguely down the hall. “Ollie’s right—”
Kimi cut him off with a loud, exaggerated “Shhh,” the sound sharp enough to make Jack jolt slightly before blinking at him in bewilderment.
After a beat, Jack simply exhaled, blowing raspberries in response, as if that alone would chase away the tension in the air.
"I-I was worried about ollie. But your room was open first, I wanted to see you okay so maybe he would be too."
Jack blinked, clearly taken aback by Kimi’s sudden honesty. For a moment, the room felt heavier, the air thick with something unspoken. Kimi hadn’t meant to say it like that, hadn’t planned on letting that fear slip through, but now that it had, he couldn’t take it back.
Jack’s expression softened, just slightly, before he huffed out a breath. “At least he still has a seat.”
Kimi frowned at that, his stomach twisting. “Jack—”
“I’m serious,” Jack interrupted, leaning back against the pillows. There was a ghost of a smirk on his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I know how this works. I’m lucky if I even get another race.”
Kimi stayed quiet, jaw clenched. He hated this part of racing, the way everything felt so temporary, like they were all just waiting for the moment they were no longer useful.
Jack must’ve noticed his expression because he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Sorry. That was depressing as hell.”
Kimi shook his head. “It’s just… unfair.”
Jack gave him a look, something almost amused. “And since when has this sport ever been fair?”
That shut Kimi up. He didn’t have a good answer for that, because Jack was right. It had never been fair, and it never would be.
Alpine had poured a ridiculous amount of money into Franco, the previous Williams driver, grooming him to be the future of the team. Jack had always been a second option, a backup plan. Even now, after proving himself, it was obvious where Alpine’s priorities lay.
And to make matters worse, Jack’s contract only covered six races. Six. That was all he was guaranteed. After that, it was all up in the air, dependent on performances, team politics, and whatever Alpine decided they needed next.
A beat passed before Jack’s gaze flickered back to Kimi, more curious this time. “So… you were worried about me too, huh?”
Kimi rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched. “Shut up.”
Jack grinned, but the tiredness in his eyes was still there, lingering beneath the surface. “Seriously, though. I appreciate it. Even if you only came in here ‘cause Ollie’s room was closed.”
Kimi exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I would’ve come anyway.”
Jack blinked at that, surprised, before a slow, lopsided smile spread across his face. “Yeah?”
Kimi huffed, shoving Jack’s foot lightly through the blankets. “Yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”
Jack just laughed, the sound lighter than before, and for the first time since the crash, Kimi let himself breathe.
Kimi lowered himself into the chair beside Jack’s bed, resting his arms on the edge as he studied him. “How are you holding up?” he asked, biting the inside of his cheek before offering a small, hesitant smile.
Jack let out a short laugh, though it lacked any real humor. “Minor concussion. Nothing too bad.” He paused, then sighed. “I’m more worried about my career, honestly.”
Kimi expected the joke—expected Jack to brush it off like it wasn’t eating at him. But hearing it said out loud, even lightly, made his chest tighten. He’d never heard Jack voice that fear before, and somehow, that made it worse.
Kimi studied Jack’s face, searching for any sign that he wasn’t as worried as he sounded. But there was something in his eyes—something raw, unguarded. It wasn’t just a joke. It was real.
He exhaled sharply, dropping his gaze to the edge of the blanket. “They’d be stupid to let you go.”
Jack let out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, well. Stupidity isn’t exactly rare in this sport.”
Kimi frowned. He hated how Jack had to think like this, how he had to constantly prove he deserved to be here when it should’ve been obvious. “You’ve done everything right,” he said, voice firm. “You’ve shown them you belong.”
Jack looked at him for a long moment before shaking his head with a small smirk. “Didn’t know you were such a fan.”
Kimi rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “I just think it’s bullshit.”
Jack sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “Yeah. But it’s the reality. Franco’s their guy. I was always just filling space.”
Kimi clenched his fists. Alpine had put an absurd amount of money and effort into Franco, their golden boy. Jack had never been more than a placeholder in their eyes, no matter how much talent he had.
Jack must’ve noticed Kimi’s expression because he nudged him lightly. “Hey. Don’t look so grim. I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“For now,” Kimi muttered before he could stop himself.
Jack arched a brow. “Damn, way to lift a guy’s spirits.”
Kimi groaned, rubbing his temples. “I just—I hate how easily they throw people aside.”
Jack hummed in agreement. “Welcome to F1.”
A silence settled between them, not exactly uncomfortable, but heavy.
After a moment, Jack sighed. “Honestly? I’m more pissed that this crash might make me miss a race. Six races, Kimi. That’s all I’ve got. Every single one matters.”
Kimi swallowed hard, knowing there was nothing he could say to fix that. He wasn’t going to feed Jack empty reassurances. Instead, he reached out, giving Jack’s arm a firm squeeze.
“You’re not done yet,” he said quietly.
Jack studied him for a second before nodding, a flicker of something grateful in his eyes. “Yeah. Not yet.”
Kimi placed a steady hand on Jack’s shoulder, his fingers absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles against his back. He didn’t miss the way Jack shivered at the touch, and for some reason, that made him laugh softly. Jack joined in, shaking his head, and for a moment, the tension lifted—just a little.
It wasn’t romantic, not even close. But it was something gentle, something grounding, despite everything that had happened.
A beat of silence passed before Jack spoke again. “Who got pole?”
Kimi blinked, caught off guard. His brows lifted slightly as he searched his own mind for the answer—then huffed out something between a scoff and a laugh when he realized.
He had won. His first win.
But all he could think about was Ollie’s DNF.
Kimi exhaled softly, his gaze dropping to his hands as if the answer might be written there. He shifted uncomfortably before muttering, “I, uh… I did.”
Jack’s face lit up immediately. “No way!” His voice shot up with excitement, eyes wide as he grinned at Kimi like he’d just won the championship. “Dude, that’s insane! Your first win? And you didn’t even mention it?”
Kimi felt warmth creeping up his neck, a flush spreading across his skin as he scratched at his jaw and quickly looked away. "Wasn't really thinking about it," he muttered, trying to dismiss the sudden discomfort.
Jack gawked at him like he’d just spoken a different language. “Not thinking about it? Kimi, you just won your first F1 race! That’s huge! We should be celebrating!”
Kimi shrugged, shifting in his seat. “Didn’t feel right.”
Jack’s excitement faltered just a little, his grin softening into something more understanding. “Because of Ollie?” he asked, his voice gentler now, as if he sensed the weight Kimi had been carrying.
Kimi swallowed, nodding once. His fingers tapped idly against the bed railing, restless. “Felt wrong to be happy when—when that happened.”
Jack huffed, shaking his head. “Mate, that’s exactly why you should be happy. If he were here, he’d be making this all about you. Probably throwing confetti in your face or some shit.”
Kimi couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, because yeah, that sounded like Ollie. The thought of him being awake and well enough to do something so ridiculous made his chest ache.
Jack nudged him with his elbow. “Come on, man. At least let me be excited for you.”
Kimi rolled his eyes, but the redness on his cheeks betrayed him. “Fine.”
Jack smirked. “Good. Now tell me everything. Last I saw, you were barely in the top five. How the hell did you pull that off?”
Kimi sighed, shaking his head fondly as Jack’s enthusiasm took over. And for the first time since the race ended, he let himself talk about it.
Kimi couldn’t help himself. Once he started talking about the race, it was like a dam had broken. His words tumbled out in rapid succession as he replayed every corner, every overtake, and the sheer adrenaline of it all. He was in his element now, his excitement growing with every detail he gave.
"Man, I can't even begin to explain how perfect the car felt. Every turn, every brake, I had this insane rhythm with it. Like we were one. And the launch, I made up positions in the first couple laps like it was nothing. I had the pace—felt like I had everything under control, y'know? And then when I saw the gap open in front of me, I just knew I had to take it. Took the lead, held it till the end…" Kimi’s hands were moving as he spoke, gesturing like he was back in the cockpit, reliving those moments.
Jack sat back, eyes wide in pure admiration, clearly captivated by Kimi’s passion. He couldn’t help but smile, his affection for Kimi growing with every word, the way Kimi lit up talking about the race. It was impossible not to be drawn in.
Kimi kept going, his voice eager and animated, oblivious to the effect he was having on Jack. Finally, Jack interrupted with a chuckle, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“You know, I was here ranting about my problems in front of the fucking winner!” Jack exclaimed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "I should’ve been taking notes instead of whining about my concussion.”
Kimi froze for a moment, then turned red, realizing just how much he'd been going on about it. His gaze shifted to the side, embarrassed but still smiling. "Well, uh… you needed to hear about it. You’ve been through a lot too, right?" he muttered, clearly flustered by Jack’s teasing.
“By a lot, you mean Alpine, then yeah," Jack said with a knowing look. "Sometimes I wonder if they put chips in my food so that when I mess up, they can just control me until they don’t need me.” He chuckled darkly, but it was a laugh that didn’t match his eyes.
Kimi raised an eyebrow, his own expression shifting from amusement to a bit of concern. "That bad?" he asked, his voice softening just a little as he leaned back in his chair. His usual sarcastic edge was gone, replaced with genuine curiosity.
Jack shifted uncomfortably in his bed, feeling the weight of Kimi’s question. "It’s just… It’s not that they’re evil or anything, but it feels like they have a way of making you feel like you’re always one step away from being replaced. You get so stuck in the routine that you forget who you are outside of racing." He laid his head back, clearly frustrated by the emotions that he hadn’t realized were still simmering beneath the surface.
“But you know, at least you’re in a team that actually values you, right? You’re at Mercedes—what a lucky duck!”
The compliment hit Kimi like a splash of cold water. He shifted uncomfortably, the idea of being “valued” at Mercedes not sitting quite right with him. He was used to working alone, being a bit of a rogue element, so the idea that his team was actively rooting for him in a way that didn’t come with strings attached was foreign.
Jack let out a sharp exhale, his fingers tapping restlessly against the metal railing of the hospital bed. “I don’t even know if I’m really being given a chance,” he admitted, voice quieter now, like saying it out loud made it more real. “Maybe it’s just to get other teams to see me, but…” He trailed off, frustration evident in the way he clenched his jaw.
His hand curled into a fist before he smacked the side of the bed, not hard, but enough to release some of the pent-up tension. “You know,” he muttered, looking away like he didn’t want to see Kimi’s reaction.
Kimi did know. That kind of helplessness—feeling like a pawn in someone else’s game, waiting for a chance that might never really come. He had his own seat, but there were days when the critics haunted him, like one wrong move could rip it all away.
For a moment, there was just silence. The faint beeping of Jack’s monitor, the distant hum of hospital staff moving through the halls. Kimi exhaled through his nose, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
“You’re good,” Kimi said finally, voice steady despite the weight behind it. “Teams see that. You just have to hold on long enough for the right person to notice.”
Jack huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Easier said than done, mate.”
Kimi smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well. You’re still here, aren’t you?”
Jack tilted his head, considering Kimi’s words. He looked tired—more than just from the crash, more than the lingering effects of a concussion. It was the exhaustion of uncertainty, of feeling like no matter how hard he fought, he was still just treading water.
Jack tilted his head, considering Kimi’s words. He looked tired—more than just from the crash, more than the lingering effects of a concussion. It was the exhaustion of uncertainty, of feeling like no matter how hard he fought, he was still just treading water.
“Still here,” Jack echoed, his fingers flexing against the hospital sheets. “For now.”
Kimi frowned at that, straightening in his seat. “Don’t talk like that.”
Jack let out a short breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “What? It’s true.” He gestured vaguely. “My contract is for six races, and if I don’t impress by then, that’s it. Meanwhile, Alpine’s throwing everything at Franco. They put more money into him than they ever did me—feels like they’ve already made their choice.”
Kimi’s lips pressed into a thin line. He knew how much backing meant in this sport. Money talked louder than talent sometimes, and Alpine had been investing heavily in Franco for years. The reality of it made him sick.
Jack must have noticed his expression because he forced a grin, nudging Kimi’s arm. “C’mon, don’t give me that look. It’s not like I’m giving up.”
Kimi scoffed. “Better not be.”
Jack sighed, shaking his head with a tired smile. “You’re a good friend, you know that?”
Kimi huffed, rolling his eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “Don’t get sentimental on me now, Doohan.”
Jack just grinned, then, without thinking much of it, reached over and grabbed Kimi’s hand. His grip was loose, casual, but warm. It wasn’t anything dramatic—just the kind of touch that said I’m here. You’re here. We’re okay.
Kimi blinked, stiffening for half a second before forcing himself to relax. He wasn’t used to things like this. Physical affection that wasn’t a handshake, wasn’t a shoulder clap after a race, wasn’t forced or awkward.
But this? This was easy. It wasn’t anything grand or overwhelming. Jack was just there, and for some reason, that made it easier for Kimi to breathe.
Jack gave his hand a light squeeze, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to sit with me all night, you know.”
Kimi glanced at their hands, then back at Jack. He didn’t pull away. “I know.”
Jack didn’t say anything else, just let Kimi sit there, his hand warm in his own. The hospital room still smelled sterile and artificial, but somehow, it didn’t feel so cold anymore.
Kimi sat hunched over the small hospital table, fingers deftly folding thin sheets of paper into delicate roses. It had started as something to pass the time—something to keep his hands busy, to stop his mind from spiraling—but now, it was turning into something else entirely.
Each fold was careful, precise, almost meditative. He’d never done this before, never really had the patience for crafts, but for some reason, he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t bear to sit there doing nothing while Ollie was still in the other room, unreachable.
When he had a small bouquet of them, he hesitated, glancing at the tiny bottles of red paint the hospital had for kids. It was cheap, watered down, nothing like what he’d use back home, but it would do.
Dipping his fingers into the paint, Kimi brushed the edges of the paper petals with soft, uneven strokes. The red bled into the paper, staining it like something real—something alive. He told himself he was just adding detail, just making them look nice, but his chest felt tight as he worked, like there was something he wasn’t saying.
When he was finished, he leaned back, staring at the messy little roses in his hands. They weren’t perfect. Some edges were frayed, the paint uneven. But they were his. And they were for Ollie.
He even left blank ones for Ollie to paint.