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Chapter Text

Callie quietly sat in the chair she’d been told to sit in. 

The camera was pointed at her, and lights and microphones were aimed her way. 

She smiled at the interviewer, a kind-looking man. 

“Thank you for agreeing to do this series, Callie.”

“Well, it was an intriguing offer. I never thought my life would really be something people wanted to look at.” She shrugged. The man stared at her.

“You shattered records, Callie. Your name is going down in Formula One history. People absolutely want to know about your life, and to hear about it from you.” Her lips twitched. 

“Well, we should get started then, no?”

“Of course, just state your name, age and occupation.”

Callie raised an eyebrow but shrugged. 

“My name is Callie Shen, I am 30 years old and a Formula One driver.”

“Thank you. So, why don’t we start at the beginning?”

“Of my life or of my Formula career?” She tilted her head slightly. 

“Formula Career.”

“Ah, so we return to 2014, to my time in Formula 3. Do you want the whole season or the day I met Beau Simpson?”

“Let’s start with Beau Simpson.”

“Alright. That would be 2014. In Belgium.”

—June 21, 2014, Belgium—

Callie sighed, dropping her jacket to the hotel floor and tugging the elastic out of her hair. 

God her scalp hurt. 

She dropped into a chair and ran a hand through her hair, grimacing as her fingers caught on knots and tangles. 

A braid could only do so much to deter helmet hair she supposed. 

She groaned when she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket. 

Races were done for the day, it better not be James calling her. 

She dug her phone out of her pocket and frowned. 

It was, in fact, her team principal. 

“Fucker.” She grumbled, jamming her finger against the *accept* button and lifting her phone to her ear. “Hello?” She sighed.

“Callie! How’s our three-time race winner?” Callie scowled.

“She’s fine. She wants to sleep since she has to race again tomorrow though. What’s up?”

“I just got a call from Beau Simpson, and then, not even three minutes later, Mike Metcalf.”

Red Bull. Mercedes. 

The team connections immediately popped into her mind, and she sat up a little straighter.

“Yeah?”

“Simpson wants to meet with you, tonight. He watched you race. Metcalf is gonna be here tomorrow and wants to meet with you after the race. You up for it?”

That was a stupid question. She’d be a fucking idiot if she said no to meeting with Formula One team principals. 

“Yes! Yeah, I’m definitely up for it. Where am I going?”

“Simpson said he’ll be at the restaurant in the hotel at 1900 hours.” Callie glanced at the clock. 

It was 1803.

“Okay. I’ll be there. Tell me about Metcalf tomorrow, I’m going to get ready.”

“Do you want anyone there? Your uncle-”

“No. I can handle this.” She was 16. She could handle this on her own. 

Best not to disturb her uncle, his job was stressing him out. 

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Yup. Bye.” She hung up, taking a deep breath before darting to the bathroom. 

Her hair was greasy and she was sweaty as crap from two races, she was not going to let this be her first impression. 

She put on her nicest pair of jeans and tugged on a nice t-shirt she’d picked up in France earlier this year after taking a scalding hot shower. 

She left her hair down, her scalp still hurt, and even after blow drying her hair was still damp. She spent at least ten minutes picking apart her appearance in the mirror. 

She was well aware many people just saw her as a pretty face and while it annoyed her, if it helped her get to Formula One, she would use it to her advantage. 

She put on a pair of nicer boots and grabbed her phone and purse before heading towards the elevator. 

Her palms were sweating as she waited for it to arrive, and as she rode down to the first floor. 

She glanced at the time. 

1843.

She had lots of time. 

It gave her time to calm down a little.

This was big. The team principal of a Formula One team wanted to talk to her. Well, not just one, two. Mercedes and Red Bull. 

“Shit” she whispered, running a hand through her hair.

That was big. That was really big. 

She sat on a bench, quietly unlocking her phone and scrolling through her Instagram feed, glancing at the clock every few minutes. 

She headed to the restaurant five minutes early, quietly searching the room and biting her lip when she saw that Simpson was already there. 

She slowly walked over. “Mr. Simpson?” He looked up at her, annoyance flashing across his features before it shifted to recognition. 

“Miss. Shen. Thank you for meeting with me.”

“Of course, I’m honoured you wanted to.” She quietly took a seat, heart racing. 

“Congratulations on your wins today.”

“Thank you.” Callie smiled. It was always nice to have her achievements recognized, especially by someone who knew racing.

“You’ve got talent. Your karting records show that.” Simpson was watching her closely, watching how she handled herself most likely.

“Thank you. It’s taken a lot of training.”

“I understand that.” Simpson nodded. “I understand racing is a… family thing.” She resisted the urge to scowl. 

“Yes. My brother drives for Mercedes. I believe he is in the lead for this season's championship.”

She knew he was. Her father was *very* proud of him. 

“Indeed.” Simpson looked like he wanted to say more, but a waitress appeared. 

Callie ordered herself a sandwich and a tea and waited until they were alone again to speak.

“He’s good.” She wouldn’t give him any more than that. He was good.

“That he is. I’m sure you’re aware Toro Rosso has an open seat next year.”

She was extremely aware. One of the drivers was moving to McLaren, she’d heard about it multiple times.

“Yes sir, I am.”

Simpson hummed, taking a sip of his drink. 

“I would like to consider you for a seat. I want to put you in a Free Practice and see how you perform.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“I would be honoured, sir.”

“Good. I want to confirm the young drivers academy drivers by the end of summer, but I’ll have you in a car in October. Japan.” Callie quickly nodded. “I want to see you drive a few more times, and get a better feel for your style but… as of right now you are my top choice for a Toro Rosso seat and eventually a Red Bull seat, should your performance warrant it.”

That was basically a confirmed seat. Holy shit. 

“Thank you for considering me sir, I promise to do my best to impress you.”

“Good.” Simpson was silent for a moment. “I will not pretend I am oblivious to the implications of signing you. There will be backlash, can you face that?”

“Sir, I have faced backlash karting for years. As a woman I kinda expect it.” She sighed. “I’m also not a white woman, I am well prepared for hatred and vitriol to be thrown my way. But I am a racer. People can love or hate me, I don’t give a damn. I am a racer first and foremost. Everything else comes second.”

Simpson looked… impressed. 

“That is the response I needed to hear. Red Bull expects a certain mentality in its drivers. People don’t see us as a serious contender, they see us as a party team. We want our drivers to prove them wrong.”

Callie nodded, she understood that. “I promise to live up to the faith you’ve put in me.”

“Well, I haven’t given you a contract yet.” Simpson’s lips twitched. 

“True. But you wouldn’t meet with me if you weren’t really thinking about it.” She shrugged. 

“True.” The man hummed. “I know Mike wishes to meet with you too.”

“Unless he’s offering me a seat at Mercedes next year, I’m not inclined to accept that offer.”

“Even though they won last season and are thus far winning this?”

“Their drivers tried to kill each other last season. They clearly can’t maintain a good team dynamic, and my brother races there. I’m not about to become a supporting act for him.” She scowled. Simpson just grinned. 

“Well, I like hearing that.” Simpson chuckled. “You’ll fit in well with us.”

“I certainly hope so.” Callie smiled. 

Just another reason she had to keep winning, was to impress Beau Simpson and get herself a seat in Formula One. 

The next race came and went, and she won. 

She was in the garage after the race, adjusting her suit and calming down her heart rate. 

“Callie Shen?” She turned. 

Mike Metcalf was standing there, James at his side. 

“Mr. Metcalf, hello.”

“Congratulations on the win.”

“Thank you, sir.” She glanced past him, lips twitching when she saw Beau Simpson in the distance. 

Yeah, no she was signing with Red Bull. Her mind was made up.

However, the fact Mercedes wasn’t even offering a seat helped seal the deal. 

She quietly approached Simpson, letting him speak first.

“Red Bull will be lucky to have you.” He held out his hand. 

She shook it, smiling. “I look forward to driving for you, Mr. Simpson.”

“Please, Call me Beau.”

“Then I insist you call me Callie.”

—August 16, 2014—

Breaking News.

Toro Rosso has signed Chinese driver Callie Shen for the 2015 Formula One season.

Chapter Text

“So, tell us about your first time in a Formula One car. What was it like, driving in Japan?”

Callie smiled. “Well… it was exhilarating, that much power in my hands, the fact I got to drive a car that powerful was amazing. I mean, I was still 16, and being a 16-year-old driving a car like that? Shit. It was amazing.”

—October 3, 2014. Japan—

Callie was a nervous wreck. 

Though she supposed that was understandable, after all, it was her first time in an F1 car. And to be fair, she’d seen the response her being signed for Toro Rosso had garnered.

She wasn’t surprised about sexism, no, but the sheer amount of it caught her off-guard. The racism hadn’t surprised her as much but the pure hatred she’d faced had her off balance. 

She had known it would happen, there was no doubt about it. 

To their credit, the Toro Rosso team had been incredibly welcoming, Brigham Lennox, the other driver was kind to her, had taken her under his wing and stayed by her side in the paddock, helped keep the media from pouncing on her.

She truly appreciated it. 

But it was time to drive, and while anxiety was flooding every part of her body, she felt soothed as she lowered herself into the cockpit. 

It was certainly different than the F3 car, wildly so, but she felt… at ease.

“You ready Callie?”

“Yeah, I’m set, Simon.” She smiled at the sound of the race engineer's voice. 

Simon was sweet, and she honestly felt comfortable with him being the voice in her ear.

“So, how does it feel?”

“Be more specific.” She snickered, quietly adjusting herself, making sure everything was ready for the signal.

“All of it.”

“Amazing. Though I’m still a bit worried about my brother.” She snorted.

“Well, he’s in a Merc, so I don’t know how much of him you’ll see on track.” She snorted, turning on the car when she was given the signal. 

The car roared to life and she felt adrenaline flood her. 

Holy crap.

“Alright Callie, get out into the pit lane and then head out on track.”

“You got it.” She slowly pressed her foot on the gas, and the car rolled out of the garage. 

She felt eyes on her as she turned into the pit lane and slowly accelerated. 

“Alright Callie, get out there and show us what you can do.”

Callie grinned beneath her helmet. “Can do Simon.”

She got the car out on track and pressed her foot to the gas, a gasp escaping her lips as she shot down the track. 

Her steering was a little wobbly, she knew. Her breaking was too hard and soon, but she was getting the hang of it.

“Heads up. Mercedes are coming out on track.”

“Thanks.”

Her brother was on track then. 

She kept an eye out for the silver cars.

Her brother hadn’t spoken to her since the announcement had come out. Neither had her parents, for that matter. She knew her brother had to be a little pissed that she had made it here, that she was, in his eyes, trying to undermine him. 

She wasn’t looking forward to her next interaction with him. 

One of the Mercedes shot past her, but the number was wrong. 

Then came the other car, number 21.

Her brother.

She went tense, watching him shoot past her. 

She couldn’t let him rattle her, though.

She shot off after him. 

She knew this wasn’t a race, this was just testing the car. But she stayed on her brother's heels, following him through the track.

“Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. The Mercedes garage looks so uncomfortable.”

“I’m just following brother dearest.” She grinned. “Nothing wrong with that.” Simon laughed. 

“No, nothing wrong indeed.” She grinned. 

Soon enough, she was being called into the pit lane, pulling into the garage and turning off the car with a grin. 

She climbed out, tugging off her helmet. 

She was met with smiles as she jumped down onto the ground. 

“How’d it feel?” Beau smiled as he approached her.

“Right, it felt right.” She grinned at him. 

Beau just chuckled. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear, c’mon, let's get some water into you.” 

She followed Beau into the paddock, towards the motorhomes, a smile staying on her face the whole time. 

“Hey!” She turned, watching as one of the other drivers jogged up to her. 

Nick Bradshaw.

“Hi.” She smiled, tensing up just slightly, wary. 

“Welcome to the grid, I just wanted to be sure to welcome you. If you need help, you can come to me. Racing related or not.” Nick shrugged. 

“Thanks.” She smiled. “I’m happy to be here.”

“We’re happy to have you.” She was a little shocked when the older driver pulled her into a hug, but she returned it, smiling to herself. 

He was nice. 

“I look forward to racing you next year.” Nick chuckled. 

“Right back at you kiddo. See you around.” She watched Nick walk away, smiling. 

Well, at least some other drivers were welcoming to her joining the grid. 

She turned back to Beau, who was smiling softly. “Bradshaw is one of the more friendly drivers, I don’t doubt you’ll see more of him in the future.” Callie nodded. 

“Well, it’s good to know some drivers don’t have issues with me being on the grid.”

“There are quite a few who don’t.” Beau shrugged, and started walking again, she followed. “Neil, Mav, Brig. They were all incredibly supportive of you joining.”

She did notice how he didn’t mention the driver she’d replaced that day. 

She didn’t ask, just followed Beau into the motorhome for her team.

She had to admit it was exciting, getting to stay for the whole weekend, getting to watch qualifying then the race from inside the garage was an incredible experience. 

Mitchell crashed, but he was okay. 

It was a different feeling, watching a crash and actually being there to see the reactions on track, to be physically there to watch how people reacted. 

Then, Nick Bradshaw crashed. 

Right into the recovery vehicle lifting Mitchell’s car. 

The race track went silent.

Chapter Text

“Thank you for joining us today.”

“Of course.” Neil smiled. He’d never much enjoyed being in front of the cameras, but for this… he’d manage. 

“So, tell us about the feelings you had when it was announced Callie would join Toro Rosso.”

Neil pursed his lips, thinking back to all those years ago. 

“Apprehension, mostly. I mean, I’ve always believed that the people who doubted women could race were idiots, but I was… nervous. I know how cruel the drivers can get with each other, I’ve heard the shit said away from the media and I knew damn well she’d be attacked for existing, and attacked when she started winning. I was worried about her, but she was on a different team at the time so…”

“It was the junior team for the one you raced for, though.”

“True.” Neil nodded. “Which is why I actually met and spoke to her. I know a lot of people think we only met at the Brazilian Grand Prix, but I met her at the US Grand Prix.”

—October 31, 2014. United States—

Callie was glad the day was over. Her heart had been racing the whole day. 

Japan still weighed heavily on her mind. The crash…

She’d visited Nick in the hospital and met his son. 

The man was her age, which had taken her a little off guard, but he’d been kind to her, all things considered. 

He’d wished her luck in her racing and told her he’d see her around. 

She’d left flowers for Nick and then she’d left and gone home. 

Now she was in Texas, her driving done for the day and trying to calm her racing heart. 

She’d found a nook and hid in the shadows, taking deep breaths. 

“Shit.” She whispered, letting her head fall back against the wall. 

She couldn’t be panicking like this. She couldn’t. She-

“Are you okay?”

Her eyes shot open. 

It took her a moment to recognize the driver. 

His race suit was tied around his waist, fireproofs on display. He’d clearly just finished driving by how messy his hair was. 

Red Bull driver. 

Vikander, Neil Vikander.

He’d moved from Toro Rosso at the start of this season, racing at Red Bull’s senior team. 

“I’m fine.” She swallowed. 

She couldn’t read his face as he took her in. 

His expression softened slightly after a moment. “Nick’s crash shook us all up… it’s alright to be a bit spooked.” He paused, considering his words. “Just don’t show it. The vultures would rip me apart if I showed weakness… they wouldn’t be any kinder to you.”

She understood what he meant. She appreciated the way he was saying it too. 

“I know.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair, wincing at the pull on her scalp. 

“Walk with me.” Vikander turned and walked away, she was quick to follow him. 

There weren’t many people back here. 

“A bad crash shakes everyone up. Regardless of who crashed and their state after, it shakes us all up. It always will. Let it scare you. Let it scare the absolute shit out of you because the day it doesn’t is the day you become a danger to everyone on track.” She glanced at him, he was staring ahead.

“Why?”

“Because if you aren’t afraid of getting hurt you take stupid risks. You push where you shouldn’t, and when you lose control, and you will, someone will get hurt. When you don’t fear death or injury, someone gets hurt. Always.” He looked at her.

“Oh.”

“Yes. Don’t let the fear consume you, but never ignore it. Never get so comfortable you don’t get afraid. Balance the fear and the confidence. You figure out the balance, you’re set.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “I’m excited to see what you’re capable of on the track, just remember to be careful off track.” He hesitates. “Some drivers aren’t too pleased with you racing.”

“My brother is among them I presume.” Vikander nodded. 

“Yeah. But between you and me, I never liked him all that much.” Her lips twitch. 

“Your secret is safe with me, Vikander.”

“Just call me Neil.” He chuckled. “You here all weekend?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Beau asked me to watch the race, and I accepted.” Neil grinned. 

“Shall I say hi to your brother for you?” 

So it seemed he had a sense of humour. 

“Oh please do.” She giggled. Neil shot her a grin. 

“I’ll make sure to talk to him.”

She didn’t even realize where they’d stopped until Neil spoke. 

“So, this is your stop I take it.” She glanced at the Toro Rosso Motorhomes and quietly nodded. 

“Yup. This is me.” 

Neil held out his hand. “It was nice meeting you, I look forward to seeing you on track.”

She quickly shook his hand. “Yeah, I’ll see you on track.” 

She watched Neil walk away, and slipped inside, taking a deep breath.

—

“What was your first impression of Callie?”

Neil had to think for a moment, back to all those years ago, to that little alley after free practice. 

“She was going to change the world of Formula One, and I knew it from the first time I met her. Whether that be as a world Champion or just a driver, I knew she would change things.”

“Did you ever expect the bond you two shared?”

“Fuck no. I planned to leave her the hell alone, I know how the media can be. But anyone can tell you this, she’s magnetic. She’s strong and so fucking smart and bold and she draws you in with it. Her kind heart makes you stay.”

“What made you stay with her?”

“Because she always had my back, even when she could’ve chased her own glory by leaving me behind, she backed me. She’s loyal as hell, and I earned her loyalty. Like hell I was gonna leave her to the vultures after that.” He chuckled. 

“It’s also been noted that you’ve been protective of her from the start, is that true?” Neil pursed his lips. 

“She’s never needed my protection, I want to make that clear but… yeah. I think that’s a fair statement to make.”

—November 8, 2014. Brazil—

Thus far, Callie had managed to avoid her brother. 

To be fair, she was pretty sure Ethan wasn’t exactly seeking her out, either.

Callie arrived at the paddock a little later than planned, Quali was already underway. 

She headed right to the Toro Rosso motorhomes, figuring she could relax there until the driving was done. 

The second she stepped inside, she was being stared at. 

Something had happened. 

She quietly scanned the room, looking for someone she knew and could talk to. 

“Callie.” She turned, grimacing when she realized the person approaching her was from the PR team. 

Oh no. 

“Yes?”

“You should come with me.”

Fuck.

She allowed the woman to lead her to another room, her heart racing a little bit. 

“Have you watched any interviews from today?” The woman looked… weary. 

Someone definitely said something sexist about her, then. 

“No… why?”

“You might wanna sit down…” the woman motioned to a chair and Callie silently took it, looking at the woman expectantly. 

“Who said something about me?” She sighed. 

“Your brother.” 

Callie froze. 

“What?” 

“Ethan was giving an interview before qualifying, he was asked about how he felt about you being signed to Toro Rosso and… well.” She sighed, sliding a tablet across the table. 

Callie silently clicked play. 

“So, your sister is joining the grid next season, you must be proud of her?”

She watched her brother's face twist as he scoffed. 

“Proud? No. I'm annoyed. She doesn't know what she's getting into. I know my sister. She's no Formula One driver. She's going to get herself or someone killed because this isn't a game, and I don't think she realizes that.”

“Do you have anything to say to her?”

“Go home. Go back to wherever it is you live. This isn't a game. Go home before you kill someone-” she turned off the tablet. 

Her blood was boiling. 

“I shouldn't be surprised.” She whispered, taking a deep breath and standing up. “I think I'm going to go take a walk.” She forced a smile. 

“Don't do anything stupid…” 

“I won't. I'm not Ethan.” She shrugged and walked out. 

A glance at one of the TVs revealed Quali was over. 

She barely glanced at the results. 

Her brother was in Pole. 

Shocker. 

“Callie!” She turned, smiling a little when she saw Neil jogging up to her. 

The man had clearly just gotten out of his car. 

His face was flushed, hair sticking to his chest. 

“Hey. Congrats on getting to Q3.”

“Thanks.” Neil shrugged. 

She knew P9 wasn't a great starting place, but it was better than nothing. 

“I uh- I heard about what Ethan said.” Neil looked… a little uncomfortable. 

She sighed. “Yeah. That's my brother for you. Asshole to the core.” 

“You're… taking this better than expected.”

“Let's just say there's a reason I live in Amsterdam with my uncle, and haven't spoken to my brother in years.” She crossed her arms. 

It felt like Neil's eyes could see right into her soul. 

“I'm still sorry.” Neil’s smile was sad. 

“Not your fault.” She shrugged. “Anyways, shouldn't you be doing something?”

“Yeah… but I saw you walking and thought I should check in on you.”

She felt… warm at that. 

“I appreciate that.” She smiled a little. “But you should go. I'll see you around okay?”

“Okay… good luck.”

“Thanks. You too. I look forward to watching tomorrow's race.”

“I look forward to driving in it.” He chuckled, quietly turning and walking away. She watched him go with a small smile. 

She didn't think about her brother's words until the next day, when she was standing in the garage after the race, watching the drivers get out of their car, scowling when she saw her brother. 

Asshole.

She crossed her arms, keeping to the shadows as she watched the garage buzz to life. 

She'd never seen the garage after a race, she'd never been able to stay the last couple of times. 

But today she watched the stewards and mechanics get to work, watched the drivers file through their post-race duties and the top three, aka her brother, Mitchell and one of the Ferrari drivers, headed to the podium. 

She quietly slipped away and headed for Red Bull. 

Neil had retired early in the race, and… she wanted to check in on him. 

He'd been kind and welcoming to her, the least she could do was return the favour. 

No one really spared her a second glance as she walked over, everyone too busy doing their own thing.

“Callie!”

Shit.

She immediately turned, her heart dropping to her stomach when she saw her brother approaching her.

“Brother.” She crossed her arms, keeping her body tense as she eyed him. 

Eyes were on them, and so were at least a camera or two. Great. 

“You know, this isn’t going to get you father’s approval.” Ethan looked almost smug, like he had the upper hand, or knew something she didn’t.

“I know. Not everything revolves around his approval, maybe you’ll learn that someday, though I’m not holding out hope.”

Ethan stepped towards her, scowling. 

“Look, Callie, It’s cute that you’re trying. But this isn’t a game, it isn’t something you can try out for a little then decide you’re bored and move on.”

“I am well aware.” She huffed. “Why do you think I think this is a game? I don’t. I’m serious about this. I intend to win.” Ethan scoffed.

“You? Win a race? The day that happens is the day I keel over from shock.”

“Can’t come soon enough in that case.” She grumbled, eyes narrowing when Ethan stepped closer, leaning down. 

He was uncomfortably in her space, but she refused to step back. 

“You-”

“Hey man, back off.” She blinked and someone was standing in front of her, having shoved Ethan back. 

“Stay the hell out of this Vikander, it’s not your business.”

“Kinda is man. Leave her alone.”

“This is family business.” She could see Ethan’s scowl even though she couldn’t actually see her face.

“Don’t care. You’re not gonna talk shit about her to her face, you do that enough to the press. Why don’t you screw off and get back to whining like a child to the microphones yeah? That’s what you’re good at after all.”

She didn’t see Ethan launch at Neil, but she did see the punch Neil landed right to her brother’s cheek in response. 

People swarmed them, some pulling Ethan away, some pulling Neil back. 

Neil looked significantly calmer. His jaw was clenched and his eyes blazing, but he was standing still. 

Meanwhile, Ethan was struggling and shouting. 

It reminded her of a rabid dog. 

“You didn’t have to punch him.” She grumbled. 

“He launched at me.” Neil shrugged, eyes focusing on her. “Plus he deserved it, he’s been running his mouth for way too fucking long, and no one’s done shit about it.”

“Ah…” She nodded a little.

Yeah, that sounded about right. 

“Plus… it felt good.” She snorted, looking back at Neil who was grinning. 

“I’m sure it did.”

Chapter Text

“So, come the start of 2015… how were you feeling?”

Callie paused, tapping her fingers against the arm of her chair as she thought. 

“Anxious. I mean… Nick was still in pretty bad condition, and this was my first actual race. There’s a big difference between driving a little in free practice and actually racing, you know? And I was young. I was 17, this was new and scary and to be fair, I’d been dealing with a lot of shit.” She paused. “Am I allowed to swear?”

“Yes.” The interviewer smiled. 

“Cool, but yeah… I’d had a lot of shit thrown at me by fans, the media… and I was dealing with a lot of issues due to the fact I was racing under the Chinese flag.” She grimaced. 

“Really?”

“Yeah… Australia was a hell of a race for a lot of reasons. The Race itself was just one of many. The drama following it… god it was fucking insane.” She huffed

—March 12, 2015. Australia—

Callie had to admit she was a little nervous, taking her seat for the press conference. 

It sincerely didn’t help that her brother was also there. 

Neil sent her a smile as he took his seat, she wished he had sat beside her, since right now her brother was sitting between them. 

She tried not to focus too much on that, folding her hands in front of her and listening as the questions were asked, and the drivers answered. 

Her heart race slowly dropped back to normal as it registered that she’d be fine. This… wasn’t so bad. 

It seemed like it was one question per driver, and they were slowly working their way through. 

It was…. Much more calm and orderly than she’d expected. 

Well, she didn’t know what she’d expected, but god this was a lot calmer… it was nice.

They circled through everyone, and then the focus was on her. 

“And Finally… Callie Shen, Welcome. Youngest ever Formula One Driver, 17 years of age. You feel ready for this?”

She smiled, shifting a little in her seat before she answered.

“I hope so. We’ll see.”

“You put in a big- um- mileage in testing, and looking at the analysis it seems like the Toro Rosso had pretty good race pace. What are your thoughts on the car that you’ve got going into your Formula One debut?”

“Yeah um- I drove last year, I did three Friday practices. I think that this year’s car is much more competitive. I’m confident we stand a chance at getting serious points this year.” She smiled. “I’m really confident going into this race weekend.” She hummed, glancing down at her brother when he spoke. 

“I’ve only just realized that I’m the oldest driver here… I think that’s the first time that’s ever happened.” He chuckled, and a few laughs echoed out. 

“And how does that feel?”

“Man, it’s strange.” She could just see the charming grin he’d flash the crowd as he leaned back. 

“Callie, you can answer this too, how’s it feel being a part of the first brother sister duo to race in F1?”

“Are we the first?” She raised an eyebrow, letting a teasing tone slip into her voice.

It earned her a few chuckles. “The first in F1 history, yes.”

“Huh. Well, I look forward to giving him a run for his money.” Ethan snorted at her words.

“Drag your car into the points and maybe then we can talk.” She scowled, but quickly wiped the expression away and replaced it with a smile. 

“Oh, I intend to.”

—March 15, 2015. Australia—

“Shit!” Callie smacked the side of the steering wheel, jaw clenched. “Simon I’m smoking!” Her heart was racing. 

Smoke was bad. Smoke was really fucking bad. 

“Retire the car Callie, get off the track and get out.” Simon sounded much calmer than she felt.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, grimacing as she drove off into the gravel. 

She turned off the engine and took out the steering wheel, hopping out and quickly moving over to the wall, to the waiting stewards. 

Behind her, she could hear cars zipping past, and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw the two Mercedes shooting by. 

DNFed her first race. Her brother would never let her forget this. 

Fuck. 

She grumbled, letting herself be led away from the track. 

She didn’t remove her helmet, not until she was safely back in the Toro Rosso garage and the media couldn’t see her. 

“Hey…” She looked up as Simon approached. 

“Shouldn’t you be somewhere?” She sighed, setting her helmet down. 

“My driver retires, my job is done.” He shrugged. “Shit happens, this doesn’t reflect on you as a driver you know…”

“I know. But will the world take it like that? I’m already catching slack for my Qualifying times.” She grumbled, roughly tugging the elastic off her braid and shaking her head until her hair came loose. 

“Piece of advice? Unless they’ve sat in the cockpit or worked closely with drivers, don’t listen to shit they tell you, okay? And if they’re not on your team you really shouldn’t listen to them. If your Quali times were anything abnormal for the team, trust me, I would’ve said something to you before now, or Beau would’ve.” Simon placed a hand on her shoulder and she sighed. 

“I know… But people have expectations for me and I feel like I have to achieve them or I’m a failure…”

“Fuck those people. This is your first Grand Prix, in your first season in Formula One. Watch, by the next race, you’ll be leaving the haters in the dust.” He lightly squeezed her shoulder and she smiled slightly. 

“Yeah… I guess.” She sighed. 

“Chin up. At least you didn’t crash.” Simon grinned, and she snorted. 

“Yeah… that would suck.”

“Oh yeah.” He chuckled. “Trust me when I say, you’ll be fine. You still gotta deal with the post-race media though.” She groaned, and Simon laughed. 

“A DNF doesn’t get me out of it?”

“Not unless you crashed. Please don’t crash.”

“Damn. There goes my plans for next week.” Her lips twitched upwards as Simon narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Alright, c’mon. Before you give me a heart attack.”

“Nah, I’ll save the stupid shit for the end of the season.” She snickered, grabbing her helmet and following Simon out of the garage, heading towards the team’s Motorhomes, specifically hers. 

She knew the media would likely find her before she got there, but she could hope. 

She wasn’t that lucky though. 

“Callie! Disappointing race out there huh?”

She couldn’t hold back a snort. “No shit.” She glanced at the reporter, who looked a bit surprised. 

She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to tone her personality down for this, she meant it. 

“Hoping for a better result next week?”

“Always.” She nodded. “Malaysia is a new race, a new opportunity for points. I’m going to treat every weekend like a new shot.”

“Oh?” 

“If I carry things over, they’ll weigh me down. So, I won’t.” She shrugged, crossing her arms. 

“How are you feeling about the rumours of some issues regarding your ability to race in China?”

She narrowed her eyes slightly. 

Sure, she’d heard that a lot of powerful people hated her racing with the Chinese flag but…

“I haven’t heard anything of the sort, if I had, I wouldn’t be discussing it openly. If you’ll excuse me.” She turned and started towards the Toro Rosso motorhome, ignoring the media calling her name, and ignoring the vaguely concerned looks Simon was sending her way as she walked. 

“Callie-”

“If there are issues about my racing, I deserve to know. You can tell Beau that too.” She glanced at Simon. “I’m not a glass doll. If there’s shit about me driving, I deserve to know. I’m gonna cool down until the race is over.” She opened the door of her driver's room and she knew it was rude to close it in Simon’s face, but she didn’t want to deal with the fact that man was literally sunshine personified.

She leaned against the wall and sighed, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes until colour exploded across her eyelids and a faint buzzing filled her brain. 

“Shit.” She whispered, taking a deep breath before she pushed off the wall and walked over to the couch, plopping down, face in the pillow and just groaning. 

She knew, realistically she didn’t have very long to relax. She’d gone out in lap 32 of a 58-lap race. 

She’d have to face the music sooner rather than later. 

She reached over onto the nightstand and jammed her thumb into the power button on her radio, voices crackling to life as the radio powered on. 

“-overtake by Ethan Shen on lap 55!” Callie scowled and jammed her thumb right back into the power button, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. 

“Fuck.” She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath. 

Damn, she had to go face the vultures for real now, didn’t she?

Dammit. 

She slowly sat up, running a hand through her hair, wincing slightly when her fingers caught on a knot. She just shook her hair out and glanced at her reflection.

It would just… have to do.

She stood, quietly slipping out of the motorhome and heading to the garage, listening to the roar of engines on track. She could tell by the sound they were on a cool-down lap, that the race was over. 

She sighed, making sure she kept to the shadows as much as possible as she headed towards the Toro Rosso garage and the waiting media. 

Brigham’s face was stormy when she walked past him, she knew better than to push to try and find out what was wrong there.

She scanned the crowd of people, spotting some people she recognized right off the bat.

Neil. Her brother. Maverick. Beau. 

It was slightly… overwhelming. She’d never been around during these post-race activities. 

Odds were no one would want to talk to her, she’d been warned of that. But she was also told that unless she’d crashed, she had to be available for anyone who did wish to speak to her, with some small exceptions. 

She leaned against the wall, watching everyone speak. 

After she got over the initial discomfort at the chaos, it was a little easier to deal with, watching everything going on. 

The drivers slowly left the interviews, and when Neil turned around, she locked eyes with him. 

She straightened up as he approached her, glancing down at his hand when it brushed her arm.

“Can I talk to you?” He kept his voice low.

“Uh- yeah, sure.” She nodded, letting Neil guide her away from the media, into the garage. 

She took him to a vacant room, closing the door once they were both inside.

“What’s up?”

It didn’t escape her notice that Neil kept distance between them, that he ensured he wasn’t in her space. She appreciated it. 

“I’ve got a friend who’s a member of the FIA. They’re saying the race reps for China are threatening to cancel the race if you’re going to be driving it.” Callie felt ill. 

“What the fuck?”

“I know.” Neil sighed. “The FIA is considering not allowing you to race to save face and-”

“Why the fuck do they not want me to drive? I drive under their flag?”

“That’s the issue.” Neil sighed, crossing his arms. “Look… I spoke to Jenson. Most of the GPDA is behind you, and multiple drivers have stated if the FIA attempts to block you from driving… we won’t drive either. You are one of us. We protect our own.” He swallowed, slowly reaching out, shuffling closer and laying a hand on her shoulder. “We’ve got your back, yeah?”

Callie slowly looked up and met his gaze, nodding. “Yeah… okay.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you.” Neil quietly nodded. 

“The FIA is a bitch, most drivers will agree about that one, and the fact they’d do this shit says as much.”

“I know… we can just… pray they don’t go through with it.”

—

“So. China.” Neil grimaced. 

“Fucking hell that was a bad race… 2015 that was. I usually enjoy racing in China. But shit… that weekend sucked.”

“Tell us about it?”

“Well to be fair the media was basically up our asses all weekend, not much of it or the lead-up went uncovered.” He snorted. “They tried to take Callie out of the race, obviously we drivers did not appreciate the FIA trying to bend to their demands and keep her out of the race.

—

“Yeah…” Callie nodded. “I uh- that race was hard.” She sighed. “My home grand prix, and I knew they didn’t want me there. They tried so hard to keep me from racing and it sucked.”

“How did their comments about your… um… dedication, feel?”

“You mean the fact some pretty fucking important people there decided to state I was a disgrace to China since I’d inevitably retire to pop out babies once a husband taught me to behave?” She raised an eyebrow, then sighed and shook her head. “Yeah, I was pretty damn pissed.” She pursed her lips. “It’s what caused me to decide to race under a different flag for 2016 and to decide that I no longer wanted to hold onto my Chinese citizenship. I was proud of my heritage. They ruined that.”

“I bet they regretted that.” The interviewer smiled. She laughed. 

“Oh god yeah, but hey, their loss.”

—April 10, 2015. China—

Beau had called her and asked her to come speak with him. 

It was never a good thing, especially not when he’d asked her to come before free practice. 

Walking to the Red Bull motorhomes had felt like a walk to the executioner's block in all honesty. 

She was ready to go right to the car once they were done, her hair was tightly braided, she was in her fireproofs and her race suit was sitting around her waist. 

She nodded at the staff as she walked into the Red Bull motorhome. 

She wasn’t super familiar with the layout, but she was familiar enough, able to find Beau’s office and knock.

“Come in!” She heard Beau call out and quietly opened the door, stepping into the room and letting it shut behind her.

“You asked to see me?”

Beau looked up at her and he looked… strained. 

Shit.

“Yes, please, come sit.” He motioned to the seat across from his desk. 

She silently walked over and sat down, crossing one leg over her other one and trying to lean back into the chair and relax. 

“What’s going on?”

“The FIA gave me a call last night.” Beau sighed. “We have two options for this weekend. Either, you don’t race. Or… you will race flagless.” Callie felt… ill. 

“What?”

“They told me it’s the only way you can race. No special helmet. No flag connected to here, and no standing up front for the anthem on Sunday. You will race with a blank white flag, should you choose to race.”

“Obviously I’m gonna race.” She scowled. “But Beau… this is bullshit!” She hissed. 

“I know.” Beau sighed.

“I should be allowed to have my flag.”

“I know.”

“This is unfair!”

“I know, Callie. But at least you’ll get to race.” Callie scowled. 

“Fucking FIA!” She hissed, standing up and walking around the chair so she could pace behind it, scowling. 

“I’m really sorry Callie…”

“Yeah… I know.” She took a deep breath. “I gotta go.” She turned and walked out, not waiting to be dismissed. 

She headed right for the pit lane, storming down to the motorhome and right into her driver's room. 

She knew the team heard her screaming into the pillow of the couch that was in there, kicking one of the cabinets and scowling. 

She knew damn well this would bring her brother endless joy.

She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, gritting her teeth. 

There was a knock.

“What?” She spat, not bothering to try and stay calm.

She watched Simon open the door. “Beau told us… I’m sorry Callie.”

“We can’t do anything about it.” She hissed, taking a deep breath. 

“Get to the end of the race, we’re still going to give you a flag to drive with. They can’t stop us.”

“What?” She stared at him. 

“Fuck the FIA.” Simon grinned.

Her lips twitched. 

“Yeah, fuck the FIA.”

—April 12, 2015. China—

 “Fuck!” Callie cursed, feeling the car rumble to a stop. “Shit!” She could feel tears forming in her eyes. 

“Get out of the Car Callie, you’re in the middle of the track!” Simon sounded a little panicked, and it kicked her ass into gear. 

She quickly ripped off her seatbelts and pulled out the steering wheel, gritting her teeth as she pulled herself out of the car. 

She glanced over at the sound of a car coming up beside her. 

Red Bull. 

The Number 2 sat proudly on the front as it stopped next to her. 

She frowned. What the hell was Neil doing? 

She watched him tap the side of the cockpit, and motion for him to come over. She frowned.

“Taxi?” She shouted, resisting the urge to grin. 

Of course, she’d seen the videos of drivers giving other drivers a lift. 

She knew Neil probably couldn’t hear her. He patted the cockpit again, a little more aggressively.

She glanced to the side as she saw the marshalls approaching and shrugged, walking over to Neil's car and sitting on the side of the cockpit, lightly tapping her fist against the top of Neil’s helmet as she got comfortable. 

She heard the marshalls shouting as Neil started moving, but she ignored them, just grinning under her helmet. 

She looked up at the crowds, sucking in a breath as she saw the signs. 

Fans waved flags with the number 22 on them and signs with her name. 

She had to choke back a cry at one sign.

欢迎回家凯莉

Welcome Home Callie. 

Sure she knew she had some fans, but having them here… made it all the more special. 

She looked down at Neil to try and keep herself from crying, watching him focus on driving. 

She looked up, smiling and waving to the fans. She knew they couldn’t see her smile but… she was beaming. 

She knew what they called her brother here 龙, The Dragon. She didn’t really care to know why, she just knew they called him that. 

She’d heard some fans calling her 狮子. The Lion.

It took some drivers years to get a nickname like that. It had taken her three races. 

It made a part of her light up that she just… couldn’t explain. 

Neil pulled into the pits and she practically jumped off the car, getting out of the way so Neil could zip away and back onto the track. 

She watched him go, then turned, smiling when she realized he had actually stopped in front of Toro Rosso, so she could walk right in. 

She tugged off her helmet, smiling as she walked up to Simon. 

Simon was giving her a… strange look. 

“What, never seen a taxi before?”

“Not in a while.” He shrugged. “It was just… odd. I’m no PR guy but people might read into it since you seem… close.”

“There’s nothing there.” She frowned. 

“I know that. But the fans don’t.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah… Might wanna talk to PR soon.”

“Maybe…” She frowned.

She wished F1 was about the racing and not all this PR crap.

—

“So, how’d you feel about the China situation?”

“Pissed. Absolutely pissed.”

“You’re an immigration lawyer, correct?”

“Yes.” Daniel nodded. “Since Callie is my legal ward, and had lived with me since she was 9, in the Netherlands, I took the liberty of applying to get her citizenship.”

“She didn’t already have it?”

“She had permanent residency as my kid, but not citizenship, no. We never saw the point. But all the bullshit over her flag… she called me after the race, I’d already started the paperwork. That is how Callie became a Dutch driver, instead of a Chinese driver.”

“How did her bio family take it?”

“Honestly they didn’t really care at the time, too focused on supporting Ethan.”

“Do you think they regret that?”

Daniel Shen’s grin was dangerous. 

“They’ve lived to regret which Shen they threw their support behind, absolutely.”

Chapter Text

“So, tell us a little bit about Monaco.”

“Well… it’s kinda the Formula One race, it’s got the history, and the prestige… most of the drivers live in Monaco. I didn’t at the time but most of them did.” She snorted.

“You do live there now though?”

“Mhm.” She nodded. “I split my time off between Monaco and Gothenburg.” She saw the reporter frown. 

“Gothenburg?”

“Mhm. But yeah… Monaco was thrilling.” Callie grinned. 

—May 21, 2015. Monaco—

“Amazing result today Callie, second fastest earlier, seventh this time.”

“Damn.” She grinned. “Not bad huh?” She pulled into the pit lane, turning off the engine and climbing out. 

She tugged off her helmet, laughing as Brigham rushed over and scooped her up.

“Brig!” She giggled, smacking the man’s shoulder once he put her down. 

“Fucking second earlier, that's good pace!”

“Practice doesn’t mean shit in Quali, or the race.” She gave him a look. “You know that as well as I do. Slowest in practice can win, fastest can lose. The Race is the important thing.”

“Couldn’t have said it better than that, Callie.” She quickly turned, eyes widening slightly when she saw Pete Mitchell, Maverick, standing there. 

“Oh um- thank you.” She smiled, heart skipping a beat when he placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“Keep that mentality. You know what they call championship mentality? That’s it. Keep it up, kid.” He patted her shoulder and walked past her, she turned to watch him go.

“Holy shit,” Brigham whispered.

“Holy shit.” She echoed, nodding. “Fuck the race, that’s the best thing that’s gonna happen to me all damn weekend.” Brigham snorted but didn’t say anything to oppose it. 

“C’mon, we got a team debrief.” Brigham placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her through the garage and to the team motorhome. 

—May 24, 2015. Monaco—

Callie didn’t remember actually hitting the wall. 

The ache in her body told her she had, and she remembered the moments leading up to the hit but she didn’t remember the hit.

She could feel her heart racing.

“Callie, are you okay?” Simon’s voice sounded distant as hell. 

“Yeah- yeah, I’m okay.” She swallowed, shakily handing the steering wheel to the stewards and lifting herself out of the car, gritting her teeth at the ache she could already feel forming in her back. 

Dammit, she’d have to go see the team performance coach.

She let the stewards grasp her arms to help pull her out of the car, hurrying her off the track. 

She could hear applause from onlookers, but couldn’t make herself look up at them, letting herself be ushered away.

That crash was a bitch. 

She didn’t take her helmet off until she was back in the garage and Simon was in front of her, brows furrowed in concern. 

“Jesus- that crash was pretty bad huh?”

“Yeah… I don’t remember hitting the wall.” She swallowed. 

“Considering it was like, 30Gs, yeah that makes a lot of fucking sense.” He scoffed, slinging an arm around her waist, letting her lean into him. 

She trusted Simon, the man was like her brother. 

She trusted him to lead her through the garage and keep them hidden from the media as they got to the Toro Rosso motorhome, and right to her driver’s room.

“So… no media duties?” She offered a weak smile as she plopped down on the couch. 

“That’s your concern?”

“I fucking hate the media Si. They prioritize the damn British drivers and to hell with the rest of us.” She scowled. 

“Yeah… I know.” He sighed, leaning against her desk, arms crossed. “Want the team doc?”

“I want a back massage.” She grumbled, dropping an arm over her eyes, Simon snorted. 

“Yeah, you can definitely arrange for that.” He paused. “Any update on finding yourself a Manager?”

“No.” She mumbled, sighing. “My uncle keeps suggesting people but I don’t like any of them, they’re all old, stuffy white dudes.” She scowled, and Simon snorted. 

“You should find one soon. In case you gotta negotiate to move teams, they can help find sponsors for you. Trust me, you’ll want sponsors.” She glanced over at Simon, motioning for him to continue. “Cash is king. You bring money to a team, they’ll wanna keep you. Money and performance? You’re a golden goose.” He shrugged. “Plus makes you harder to take advantage of if you’ve got a manager to look things over.” 

Callie sighed. He was right… She knew he was right. 

“I’ll… try.” She pursed her lips. She’d go to other drivers, and see if any of them could give her any tips or recommendations. 

“Hey, just try and you should be okay.” Simon smiled. “I’ll leave you be, okay?”

“Okay.” She sighed, watching Simon leave. 

She lay there for a moment, before reaching over and grabbing her phone, quietly opening the driver's chat, scrolling to look for Mitchell, then tapping on his contact and hesitating. 

Hey, it’s Callie. I’m trying to find a manager, I was wondering if you had any advice?

She didn’t expect the man to answer, he was still racing after all, but she knew he was probably one of the best people for her to ask. 

She sighed and let her phone slip out of her fingers, dropping down onto the cushions beside her.

She let her arm drop over her eyes and tried her best not to fall asleep. 

She knew she probably should go see a doctor, in case she had a concussion or something of the sort. But she couldn’t be bothered to get up. 

She just wanted to lay here until the race was done and she could go back to the hotel and shut herself away until her flight back to Amsterdam the next day. 

Her phone buzzed after a while, and she picked it up, eyes widening slightly when she saw Mitchell had answered her.

P.M: I do know someone, my manager trained him. I’ll send you his contact info.

Thank you.

She let out a breath of relief. 

If Pete Mitchell was vouching for them, she could trust that. 

She slowly sat up. 

If Mitchell was texting her, the race was certainly over, which meant she could probably slip away and head back to her hotel room.

Just as she began to tug off her fireproofs, her phone rang. She frowned, quietly answering Brigham’s call. 

“Brig?” She put her phone on speaker and set it down. She grabbed her clothes and focused on getting changed as Brig spoke. 

“Hey Cal, you feeling up to coming out with some of us?”

“Who’s some of us?” She frowned.

“Me, Simon, James, Neil, Javy, Reed and Ryan.”

“A Red Bull family hangout?” She hummed. 

She wasn’t surprised that the race engineers were being roped into it, she was well aware of the close relationships some drivers formed with their engineers. 

“Yeah. You down?”

“You realize I’m still 17, right?” 

“And?”

“The drinking age in Monaco is 18. Most clubs wouldn’t even let me in. I can’t get into the casino, and a lot of bars wouldn’t let me in either.” She sighed.

Brigham was silent for a moment. 

“Oh.”

“Mhm.” She snickered, tugging on a t-shirt and jeans, letting out a sigh of relief once she was out of her race gear. 

She loved racing and understood why they wore what they did but man she adored getting to change after a race. 

“Well, we’re gonna be at Neil’s place here so…”

“He has a place here?” She frowned. 

“Most drivers do, Callie.”

“Oh.” she blinked, pausing as she pulled on a boot. 

“You didn’t know that?”

“No…”

Shit, should she be considering moving to Monaco?

To be fair she couldn’t live with her uncle forever, as much as she may like to. 

“Well, we’re just gonna relax at his place, have a few drinks, chill. You coming?”

She hesitated. Did she really want to?

She bit her lip. Honestly… she was exhausted.

“Nah, I’ll pass.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“Okay… I’ll see you next weekend then?”

“Two weekends. Canada is in two weeks.”

“Right… I’ll see you in Canada?”

“See you in Canada.” She nodded to herself. 

“Alright, have a good night.”

“You too.”

She let out a breath of relief as the call dropped, eyes sliding shut for a moment. 

Fuck. 

She loved Brig… but she didn’t wanna go out right now.

Chapter Text

“So… Nick.”

“Yeah…” Callie whispered, wiping away a few forming tears. “I mean, we all kinda knew it was going to happen. His… crash was really bad.” She swallowed. “When silence falls on a racing track, you know what that means. When he crashed the world, or at least Suzuka, went silent.”

“He… passed away not long before Hungary, right?”

“Mhm.” She nodded. “Yeah… it was rough. I know all of us driving that race were very aware of the risks of climbing into our cars that day.”

—July 20, 2015. USA—

Callie felt like she shouldn’t be here. 

She’d sat at the back of the church, feeling like she was out of place as the funeral went on, she wiped away tears as the coffin was carried past, her eyes finding the figure of Bradley Bradshaw amongst the sea of mourners dressed in black.

She could see the cameras outside, the media peering into a moment of grief, of heartache. Intruding into the mourning of a father, a husband, a friend. 

And a fucking incredible human being. 

The graveyard was silent when they all arrived, it seemed the media had decided to be tactful for once and not follow them here. 

She stood near the other drivers present but kept behind them.

She’d spotted Neil, and her brother a few times, but hadn’t spoken to them. 

She closed her eyes as the priest spoke, bowing her head and willing away any tears that formed. 

She only opened her eyes once it was over, slowly looking up, taking in the people milling about, hushed chatter filling her ears and mixing with the soft singing of birds. 

She saw Bradley standing off to the side and quietly approached him, his eyes were puffy when he met her gaze. 

“Hey.” She whispered.

“Hi.” He responded, wiping away some tears. 

She hesitated for a moment before holding her arms out. 

Bradley stepped forward and hugged her tightly, arms wound around her torso and holding her almost as tightly as the belts in her car. 

She wrapped her arms around him and quietly rubbed his back, letting him hug her as long as he needed to.

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered. 

“Not your fault.” He replied.

“I’m still sorry. He was a great man.” She felt Bradley nod.

“Yeah, he was.” Bradley stepped back, taking a deep breath. “Thank you- um- thank you for coming.”

“Of course.” She whispered. “I mean, I was shocked to be invited but… of course.”

“My dad was so excited to get to race with you, wouldn’t feel right to exclude you.” Bradley shrugged, and she frowned. 

“What?”

“When it was announced you were coming into F1, my dad was thrilled. He was happy to meet you too… he’d have been happy to know you came.”

“Oh…” She slowly nodded, turning to scan the crowd. 

“I also appreciate not being one of the youngest people here…”

“I think Neil’s your age?”

“He is, but I don’t know the guy very well, my da knew him better.” Bradley shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Callie slowly nodded, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder. “Well… if you need anything, reach out, okay?” She met his eyes. “I know we aren’t close… but if you need someone to listen, I’ll be there, okay?”

“Thank you, Callie.”

“Of course, Bradley.” She offered a small smile.

He returned it. 

—July 26, 2015. Hungary—

Practice had been hard. Qualifying had been hard. 

The whole weekend felt… clouded over, sullen. They could all feel the effects of this past week baring down on them. 

But they knew the risks when they signed their contracts, they’d known them for years.

The walk to the track was silent, her grip on her helmet was the only thing keeping her hands from shaking. 

The cars were already lined up, prepared to go as soon as they were. 

But the drivers were standing together, and she walked over to join them. 

Her brother glanced her way, but didn’t say anything. 

She placed her helmet down as the others did, leaving a space in the middle as they quietly stood around them, arms around each other’s shoulders. 

She was on the end, with Brigham beside her.

She watched Bradley walk up, Nick’s helmet held in his hands. 

It was placed in the middle of the twenty other helmets before he joined the circle, standing beside her. 

A few other people she recognized from the funeral joined the circle, closing it. 

The track was silent. Not a peep from the teams, the media, the fans. 

Only the sound of the breeze could be heard. 

After a few minutes, she heard the Hungarian national anthem begin and the distant sounds of a helicopter approaching, but she kept her gaze on Nick's helmet, fighting away tears.

The anthem finished, and the helicopter flew overhead with the flag. 

The circle broke apart and she immediately turned, pulling Bradley into a hug which he returned almost immediately, hiding his face in her shoulder and giving her a tight squeeze.

“Be safe.” He whispered.

“I can’t promise that.” She replied and gently pulled away, turning and picking up her helmet, hesitating, then picking up Nick’s and quietly handing it to Bradley. 

“Try.”

“I can’t promise that either.” She shook her head. 

She knew the cameras were on them, watching as Bradley clutched his father's helmet and stared at her. 

“Don’t make me attend another funeral.”

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat.

“I’ll try.” She whispered and turned away, wiping away tears as she approached her car, climbing into her car as she ensured her HANS device and helmet were properly secured. 

Her hands shook as she pulled on her gloves, and she knew this race was going to feel like it went on forever. 

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, flexing her hands. 

She just had to finish the race as well as she could, and survive. 

Every other objective was secondary. 

She opened her eyes. 

“Callie, Radio check?”

“I hear you, Simon. Ready to kick some ass out there?”

“You’re the driver, I’m just the guy in the chair.” She smiled. 

“Well, you just talk, I’ll kick ass.”

“That sounds good to me…”

She looked up as the track cleared, and the first light turned red. 

She took a deep breath, staring at the lights until they went out, and she shot forward.

“P4 Callie! That is P4!”

“Hell yeah!” She pumped a fist into the air, waving at fans as she drove her cool-down lap. 

It wasn’t a podium, that would come in due time, but god did it feel good. 

She pulled into the pits and climbed out, tugging off her helmet and balaclava, grinning when she felt a few pats on the back as she walked towards the Toro Rosso garage. 

Simon was already waiting for her, practically bouncing on his heels, hugging her tightly once she was close enough.

She laughed as he lifted her off the ground.

“Simon-” She snickered, lightly punching his shoulder once he set her down. “Idiot.” She shook her head. 

“C’mon, you know you love me.” She just raised an eyebrow. 

“Do I really love you though?”

“Rude.” He chuckled, walking with her through the garage and into the Paddock. “How’s the new manager going?”

“Bob’s great, actually. I like him.”

“That’s good…” Simon trailed off as he spotted the media. “Wanna go deal with it now?” She sighed. 

“Might as well…”

She slowly walked over, plastering on a smile. 

“Great race today Callie!”

“Thank you.” She smiled at one reporter. “It felt great.”

“So, how does it feel being the first point-scoring female F1 driver?”

Callie frowned. “I’m not?”

The reporters looked confused. 

“Well, I guess it’s time for a history lesson then.” She hummed. “We all know Maria Teresa De Filippis was the first woman to enter an F1 race right? Good.” She nodded. “In 1975, Lella Lombardi scored points at the Spanish Grand Prix. And, there was a race where multiple women entered, in 1976, Lombardi and Davina Galica both entered, the first time two women entered, I hope one day to get the honour of racing against another woman.”

They all seemed… absorbed in her words. 

“I won’t be the first woman to win an F1 race either when I eventually win. A world championship race? Yes. But a Formula One race? No. Desiré Wilson won a Formula One race in 1980. I sincerely encourage people to research before giving me titles and records I have no claim to.”

Some of the reporters, all of them male looked… caught off guard. 

Likely at the fact a woman knew more about F1 history than them, never mind the fact she was an actual driver. 

“Now, let’s talk about today’s race, shall we?”

Chapter Text

“So, you got your Dutch citizenship pretty fast huh?”

“Yes. I won’t lie, it was probably because of my Uncle being a well-respected lawyer, and the fact I was competing in Formula One probably helped. Having a Dutch driver was probably… something that was considered.” She nodded. “It took me a few months before I was called in to complete the process, I know it takes closer to a year for most people, and I’m aware I’m privileged to have my process move so quickly.” She smiled. 

“You’re very self-aware.” She couldn’t hold back a snort. 

“I have to be.” She shrugged. “If I’m not, the media essentially crucifies me. Besides, I like being aware of the privilege I have.” 

“So, I know you’ve been asked this before but never answered, why didn’t you get citizenship by adoption?”

“Because my Uncle never adopted me, he was my legal guardian, yes, but never adoptive. I was still legally the child of my parents, but I got emancipated when I was 17 and going into F1, so I was able to apply despite being still underage… the whole situation was a list of exceptions and legal loopholes and honestly, my Uncle handed the whole thing, I would’ve gotten lost without him.” She laughed.

—August 5, 2015. Amsterdam—

Callie felt… uncomfortable. 

She was in a pantsuit, and god her skin itched. 

Her uncle had helped her pull her hair into a tight bun, securing it with some pins. 

He was talking to the woman at the front desk, and god it had been too long since she’d heard the sound of Dutch so naturally. 

Most people in the paddock didn’t speak it, and she missed it. 

She took a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her skirt. 

She drove at speeds surpassing 200 kilometres an hour weekly. She’d had crashes and dangerous stops and near-misses enough that adrenaline and fear mixed together in her blood almost constantly. 

Yet this scared the shit out of her.

“Callie?” She looked up at her uncle. “It’s time. Let’s go.”

Callie quickly stood up and brushed off her skirt, following her uncle into the council room. 

She felt more nervous facing these men than she did the media after a bad race. 

She could feel their eyes on her. 

They could’ve made her wait until December, but they’d agreed to do it now. She felt additional pressure to perform, to do them proud and to prove herself.

She listened as they spoke, gripping her skirt whenever she responded.

Her palms were sweating as she spoke, but she didn’t slip up on the important things.

She was met with smiles as she finished, the only woman on the council approaching her, a certificate held in her hands. 

“Gefeliciteerd” The woman whispered as she handed over the certificate.

“Bedankt.” She replied, smiling as her Uncle placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her out as soon as possible. 

“I already did the passport application for you.” Danny hummed, smiling at her. “They understand the need to expedite your passport for the next race weekend, so you should have it in time, but if not, at least it's only Belgium.” He grinned. “So, what now?”

“I want to renounce my Chinese citizenship.”

Her uncle raised an eyebrow.  “All in one day?”

“Mhm. I wanna get it over with. I know I’ll have to complete the season as a Chinese driver, but considering they don’t want me… I don’t want to hold onto it.”

“Fair enough… alright, where’s the embassy?”

“The Hague.” Danny paused, thinking.

“Okay. How about we go do that, then spend the day in Rotterdam, like when you were little?” She immediately grinned. 

“Can we go to the Rotterdam Zoo?”

“Absolutely kid. Let’s go.” 

—

Callie groaned as she was awoken by the sound of her phone ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hey Callie, it’s Bob, can I meet with you today?” She frowned

“Why?”

“I got some things to run through with you.” 

“Oh.” She slowly sat up, reaching over to turn on the lamp on her desk as she rubbed her eyes. “Uh- yeah. Sure we can meet. Are you in Amsterdam?”

“Yeah, got in last night. Does lunch work?”

“Um… sure?” She glanced at her clock. It was only 9, she could do lunch. “You got any clue as to where?”

“No…” Bob sounded a little… upset he didn’t have a plan. 

“That’s fine, there’s a good cafe down the street, I’ll text you the address.”

“Thanks… My dutch is shit.” She snorted. 

“I’ll have to teach you some then.”

“Please do.” He grumbled. 

“We can talk about it. I’ll see you at… say, noon?”

“Yeah, thank you, Callie.”

“Sure thing. See you later.”

She let her phone drop back onto her bedside table and flopped back onto her pillow with a groan, digging the heels of her palms into her eyes. 

She felt like shit. 

She sighed and slowly dragged herself out of bed. 

“Just treat it like a race day.” She mumbled, grabbing an outfit from her closet so she could get dressed, glancing around her room, pausing. 

She still had to broach the topic of moving out and going to Monaco on her 18th… it was two months away. She needed to talk to her uncle before October arrived. 

She shook her head. She’d wait. Maybe over dinner…

For now, she had things she could do. 

Soon enough, it was noon, and she was heading out, hands in her pockets as she walked along the Herengracht canal. 

It really was lovely here, she understood why her Uncle chose to live here. The history itself was fascinating. 

The cafe came into view quickly, and she spotted Bob almost immediately. 

He looked… very lost. 

“Hey.” She smiled. 

“Oh thank god.” He mumbled, she snorted. 

“Go get a seat, I’ll order for us okay?”

“Okay.” Bob still looked relieved as he walked over to a table and took a seat, she silently approached the counter. “Hallo, mag ik alstublieft twee koffie en twee appelbols?” The woman looked slightly surprised. Maybe she’d been heard speaking English with Bob. 

She always liked to surprise people with the fact she spoke multiple languages. 

She quietly tapped her card to pay, smiling at the woman behind the counter. 

“Komt meteen naar boven.” She nodded as the woman walked away. 

She stepped away, waiting by the side and watching as people milled about. 

She missed Amsterdam when she was away, she loved racing, but she missed it, and was gonna miss it a hell of a lot more once she actually moved to Monaco. 

“Twee koffie en twee appelbols?” Callie raised her hand.

“Mij” she stepped forward, smiling and gently taking the two bags and carefully took the two coffee cups. “Bedankt.” She turned and quietly walked over to Bob. “I hope you don’t mind black coffee, the Dutch like it strong.” She grinned and sat down, Bob sent her a polite smile. 

“I grew up travelling, I can handle a strong coffee, thank you.” She just nodded. 

Personally, she wasn’t Coffee’s biggest fan, but it wasn’t terrible. 

“So, you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yes. I want you to consider hiring a social media manager. You’re gaining a following online, and I know damn well that one wrong post could fuck everything up.” She frowned. 

“I’m not ceding control of my social media.”

“That’s not what I’m suggesting.” Bob took a sip of his coffee. “I’m suggesting you have someone who can help make posts for you and keep an eye on trends. You can still post things, but this will also help ensure you have a media presence even if you’re swamped with racing responsibilities.” 

She bit her lip. He… did have a point.

“You got anyone in mind?”

“Yeah.” Bob nodded. “He used to work with me before branching off to specifically manage social media. I can give him a call if you’d like?”

She thought about it for a moment. 

“Sure.”

Chapter Text

“Tell us about Belgium.”

“It was a scary moment, for sure.” Neil nodded. “I mean, my car just stopped.” He knew what was being asked though. “And I mean, Callie giving me a lift was… greatly appreciated.” He chuckled. 

“It was amusing to watch.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was.” He snorted. 

—August 23, 2015—

Callie gritted her teeth as she turned the corner, glancing to the side and immediately releasing the accelerator when she saw the Yellow flag.

“Who’s out?” She kept her eyes peeled for debris as a virtual safety car was called. 

“Vikander. He’s by the exit of the bus stop chicane, you are approaching him now.”

Callie glanced in her mirror, slowing down as she spotted Neil, standing beside his car and visibly cursing. 

No one was behind her. She stopped and patted the side of the cockpit, just like he’d done for her. 

“Callie…” Simon sounded weary. 

“Stewards take too long. And I’m boxing, right? I can just drop him off.” She hummed, grinning as Neil jogged over, climbing up and tapping the top of her helmet. 

She pressed her foot to the accelerator, making sure to move slowly, she didn’t want Neil to fall off after all. 

She heard Simon sigh as he spoke. 

“Box Callie, Box box, box box. Confirm.”

“Box box, box box.” She turned into the pit lane. 

Neil jumped off the second she stopped and moved away. 

Her pit stop didn’t seem longer than usual, she was pulling out of the pit lane, continuing with the race. 

“Neil says thank you for the lift.” Callie snorted at the exasperation in Simon’s voice. 

“Tell him I was just returning a favour.”

“Copy that.” 

She managed to finish within the points. 

She’d prefer to have placed higher but… she would take eighth, it was good enough. 

Practically the second she was out of her car she saw a Red Bull race suit in front of her. She grinned when she saw the name. 

She pulled her helmet and balaclava off, looking up to meet Neil’s eyes. 

“Enjoy the taxi?”

“Sure did.” He grinned, reaching out as if to touch her then stopping himself. She frowned when she noticed it, he just shook his head. 

She’d ask him about it later. For now, she cocked her head towards the garages, and Neil nodded, walking with her through the Toro Rosso garage and into the storm of media awaiting them. 

“Shit.” She whispered.

“Yup.” He replied, sticking close to her. 

She sighed when they got waved over, and silently walked over. 

“Callie, Neil. You two seem to have formed a friendship…” 

“We have,” Neil responded. “She’s a great driver and a good person, plus I can relate to her a little more than my teammate.” He chuckled, and she just smiled. 

“He and Brig have been really welcoming to me, I absolutely consider Neil a good friend.” She smiled. 

She knew what was being implied, and knew better than to even touch it because if she brought it up, they’d pounce. 

“Any plans for your 18th?”

“Considering I’ll be in Mexico for qualifying? I plan to drive. Maybe I’ll go out on Sunday with some of the drivers.” She shrugged. “But I’ll figure that out in October.” She turned to Neil. “What about you, any plans for your 22nd?”

Neil grinned at her. 

“Going home and getting smashed. Monza is right before and there’s no race that weekend so, I can let loose.” He chuckled.

“Thank you. So, how do you feel about racing in Monza?”

“I mean… it’s the temple of speed.” Callie grinned. “Who wouldn’t be excited?”

“She said it.” Neil chuckled. 

“So, Callie, how do you feel about remarks made about you by Niki Lauda?” She blinked. 

“What remarks?” She raised an eyebrow. She felt Neil grow tense beside her.

“He said you needed to see a psychiatrist.”

Callie scowled, glancing over at the Mercedes garage. 

“Maybe we should go together, I’m not the only one who may need it.”

“Alright I think I see Beau calling for us.” She let Neil pull her away, but now she was pissed off. 

Could the other teams just… fuck off?

—September 27, 2015. Japan—

Suzuka. The circuit she’d first driven on in Formula One. 

The Circuit that had killed Nick. 

Bradley was here. She’d seen him in the Red Bull garage and knew he’d laid flowers where his father had crashed a year ago. She’d looked for them during every lap of the race. 

But the race was hard. Every time she locked up or something went wrong, her heart rate skyrocketed. Every time she was informed of an incident… she got wary. 

Maybe it was just because the memories seemed so fresh, watching the crash on the screens, hearing the reactions… seeing Nick in the hospital, watching him be buried… 

It could be a cocktail of things boiling over. Who knew?

She didn’t want to say anything to anyone, give them any reason to take her from the car…

Formula One was lonely. Very few people understood what you were going through at any given time, and even fewer would be sympathetic and not try to use it to gain an edge. 

“Callie.” She looked up at the call of her name, smiling slightly when she saw Bradley approaching her. 

“Bradley, hi.” She let him pull her into a hug. “What’re you doing here?”

“I finished a meeting with Beau and wanted to watch the race.” Callie grimaced slightly. 

“Hopefully you weren’t watching me too closely.” She stepped back and he snorted. 

“You still got points so, I’d count that as a win.”

“I… suppose.” She sighed. “Anyway, why were you meeting with Beau?”

“I uh… I wanna join the team next year. As a mechanic and well, he wants to have me.” Bradley shrugged. 

Callie resisted the urge to comment that Beau wasn’t stupid enough to pass up on him joining the team, his name alone would bring some eyes.

“That’s cool. Are you joining the junior or senior team?”

“Senior. He said I’d be at Red Bull, not Toro Rosso.”

“Damn.” She huffed. “Guess you won’t be in my garage then.”

“Maybe someday.” His eyes sparkled, and she narrowed her eyes. 

“You know something…”

“I do.” Bradley hummed and stepped closer to her. “Let’s just say… a Red Bull seat is opening up. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

She was silent for a moment, only snapping back into it as he walked past her. 

“Bradley!? What!?”

—

Breaking News

Peter Mitchell to leave Red Bull at the end of 2015 and move back to Mercedes for the 2016 season.