Oxterionn: Of Love and Fast Cars

All Red could hear was the blood rushing through his veins, his heart pounding like a drum. He tried to comprehend what he was seeing; it was what he wanted to see, and what he had imagined for months, but now it was really here. Charlie was alive, and he had not changed a bit.

"This season's been shit without you," he said as he hobbled across the floor. It was clear he was still getting used to the cane, as if he had been in a wheelchair for a few months. He sat down on a chair close to Red and hung his cane from the end table between them.

"I don't know if that's true. Both Mercedes have been doing very well, and Sam's been great, I wouldn't say the season's been too bad," Red stammered, shocked that Charlie wanted to talk about F1, but still getting over the fact that Charlie was in fact here, alive, right in front of him.

"That's only because you aren't there to beat them. And Sam," Charlie shook his head. "He's the number one Tallon-Fyste driver now, of course he's winning."

This drew a smile out of Red, and for a second it seemed like old times. "Yes, they certainly picked some good drivers to replace us."

Charlie muttered something Kat did not catch, but she assumed it was not nice. "No, they aren't replacements," he added.

"You're right, they're just holding our places for us, until we can come back again," Red stated with shaky confidence, as if he was not sure he'd be able to drive again.

"Well, you might be returning, but I'm..." Charlie gestured toward his limp leg. "Can't drive without my legs. Besides, I'm 38; I probably should have retired several years ago, but I kept putting it off. I could not picture my life without F1, and now, here I am."

"But what about Rally? You've always wanted to try that." Red suggested hopefully.

"Kid, I can't even drive a normal car. I'm done with racing."

Silence filled the room and months of repressed sorrow came flooding back to Red. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to say sorry, but he knew that was not enough. He wanted to beg for Charlie's forgiveness, but nothing could ever make up for what he took from Charlie.

Sensing that her presence was no longer needed, Kat got up. "I'll let you two talk in private. I'll just be...outside, or something." Red barely noticed her leaving, but he stopped trying to hide his emotions. Slowly, tears rolled down his cheeks; whether or not they were tears of happiness or sadness, even Red did not know.

. . .

The three sat in the waiting room, Emme and Gavin on either side of Cara, the surrogate mother. They were going in for their first ultrasound, and as happy as she was about having a baby, Emme could not get that strange feeling out of her stomach. She felt guilty, and a little embarrassed, like she was being selfish. Every other woman in the waiting room was carrying their own child, instead of having someone else do it for them. And those who were not, had complications that kept them from getting pregnant themselves. Emme, as far as she knew, was completely capable of having a baby; the only thing that stopped her was, well, herself.

She tried to keep the news of the baby quiet for as long as possible. She did not want to deal with the extra attention from the press, especially the negative attention, but she also needed to mentally prepare herself. She would need to defend her choice to use a surrogate mother, as many people saw this as her choosing her career over her child. As Emme walked into her team principal's office she again considered whether or not it was a good idea to tell him.

"Sit down, Emme," he gestured to a seat. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you." She took a seat and sat stiffly in front of his unorganized desk and watched her team principal Winston (yes, named after Churchill) pour himself a bourbon. Winston, despite his name, is American, one of the few involved with Formula 1. He had made quite a bit of money on oil in his home state of Texas (although he was truly from Oklahoma) and had been involved in car racing in one way or another for most of his life.

"You know, I've been meaning to congratulate you." He started.

"You have? Why?" Emme sat up alertly and wondered if he already knew.

"You set a fastest lap last race, in Bahrain, because Morris was disqualified. They said he had too much pressure in his tires, can you believe that?" He shook his head and Emme laughed nervously.

"That is absurd, but I guess it's good for us?"

"It is indeed. That Tallon-Fyste team has really taken off, especially that kid, Red. He's something. But what kind of a name is Red? Kids these days, I tell you...." Winston did not finish his thought, instead looked back at Emme. "You had something to tell me?"

"Yes." Emme took a deep breath. It was not like her to be nervous, but today her inner well of confidence was running dry. "Gavin and I have decided to have a baby."

Winston's face twitched from obligatory politeness to anger and frustration. "Damnit! I knew this would happen soon enough! This is what I get for letting a woman drive one of my cars." He stood up and began pacing. "Jesus Christ, you couldn't have given me a heads up? Now I'm going to have to pull our reserve driver up from GP2. You were just starting to look good Emme, it's a really disappointment." He sat down again and sighed as he remembered his manners. "But congratulations, of course. You don't come across as the motherly type, but I'm sure you'll get the hang of it."

"Actually, uh-" Emme started, and tried to ignore the anger bubbling up in her chest, but he interrupted her.

"I knew it! Your physiotherapist said you'd gained weight recently, and I said you were probably just having 'woman problems' but damn I did not realize it was this type of woman problem. So how far along are you?"

"Would you shut up you fucking bastard!" Emme stood up and slammed her hands onto his desk. "We have a surrogate mother; she's due in four months."

She turned to leave and heard Winston exclaim, "But that's in the middle of the season!"

'Damn right it is' Emme thought as she slammed his office door shut on her way out. They had planned it that way so the baby would be born during the summer break. One of the many benefits of having a surrogate is that you knew the exact date of conception, and therefore had a better prediction of the date of birth.

* * *

Red counted his heartbeats as the ringing in his ears continued. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Just like his mom used to tell him. Except now, there was no one to rub his back. 'Damn it Red, you're a grown man. Stop this.' There was nothing that infuriated Red more than his greatest weakness – himself. 'Just breathe...'

Slowly, he looked up and his eyes focused on Charlie's face again. He laughed, the one thing he knew how to do when he was nervous, and it eased the tension slightly. His head echoed like an empty barrel as he tried to search for a thought, some way to continue this interaction and ensure that Charlie was a real human being and not an apparition or a figment of his imagination.

He wanted to touch him. Red wanted to take Charlie's hand in his own and feel his warmth, his heart beating in the veins beneath his fingertips. Red needed to make sure Charlie was real and not the ultimate concoction of his imagination.

But Charlie and Red were not the touching type. Maybe a 'bro hug' on the podium after a win every now and then, but no hugs, hand holding, no unnecessary touching. Red had to rely on his other senses for validity. Charlie looked different – thinner than when he had last seen him. He looked well rested, but less active. Red wanted to know all about what he had been up to these past months. Was he in pain? Had Red hurt him? Was Charlie mad at him?

That last question haunted Red and had kept him awake at night all summer. Ever since the crash, Red worried that Charlie was disappointed in him. If there was one thing Red had learned from his mother, it was that there was nothing worse than disappointing someone – letting them down, and not living up to expectations. Red could never tell with Charlie, and unless he asked, he would never find out.

Red glanced to his left and noticed Kat was gone. When did that happen? Was it before or after he started crying and had a panic attack? Perhaps she got scared, or realized he was actually just a puddle of emotion, and left.

"Is that your girlfriend?" Charlie's voice interrupted Red's useless mental contemplation and brought his attention back to the issue at hand. Charlie, crippled and possibly in pain, sat across from him – alive, and completely (well, mostly) okay.

"Uhh.... Kat is..." What was Kat? He liked her, she was at least his friend, but what was she? "No, we're friends. I know her dad."

Charlie nodded. It was so approving, the way a father might nod when his son scored the game winning goal, or had finally decided to give up college to join the family business. Red longed to see it again, and bit his lip to keep from babbling about Kat. "She tracked you down, I guess. I don't know."

Charlie gave Red a hard look and squinted slightly, like he was trying to piece together something. "But you're screwing her, right?" So typical. 'Typical Charlie,' Red used to think after hearing such comments. But now, it was exactly what he needed to hear. It was comforting; it validated his existence, his presence, his reality. This was Charlie Morris, and only he would think of saying something like that at a time like this.

"She's getting over a break-up." Red knew what Charlie would say, but he still answered the question.

"That's the best time to strike," Charlie grinned and raised an eyebrow mischievously. Red almost knew he was joking. "Kid, I should probably tell you something philosophical, or reveal the tiny piece of shitty wisdom I discovered while recovering, but really, there's nothing. Any 'epiphany' I had whilst lying in my hospital bed for a month won't mean bollocks to you, and it was most likely some boredom/drug induced high causing visions and crazy shit. So, really, I have nothing. If you're expecting the meaning of life from me just because I was in a life-threatening crash-"

"-I don't expect anything from you." Red interrupted quietly and earnestly. "You're Charlie Morris; you don't do a damn thing anyone says, and you certainly don't have 'epiphanies' about the meaning of life." He held up his hands to indicate the air quotes. Red watched the slight smile of approval slide across Charlie's face. It was as close as he was going to get to an 'atta boy' from anyone, so he took it. Whether Charlie wanted it or not, he was Red's surrogate dad. "I'm just happy you're alive."

Charlie's smile wavered and his eyes got a little darker. For the first time, Red notice the greying along the fringe of his temples. "Red, don't you think you would have known? Surely there would have been a funeral, or something? Fuck, I hope at least one person would have cared enough to have my body properly buried next to my parents back in England."

Red sniffled a laugh, and ran his hand through his hair. "You're right; I've been stupid. I just thought...." He shook his head. "I don't know why I'm here." He moved forward in his seat and made to stand up when Charlie stopped him.

"You came because that girl brought you here, right?" He stated, though it was posed like a question; a question he already knew the answer to. So many of Charlie's questions for Red were worded like that – stated, not asked: 'You really think that's the best tire you should be using in these conditions?', 'Is that really the best way to approach that corner?', 'Are you seriously drinking that nasty green kale shit for breakfast?'

Red smiled slightly at the memory of Charlie's distaste for his physiotherapist's diet regime. 'What's wrong with toast and eggs for breakfast? That's what almost everyone else in this fucking country is eating right now. And you give me this? What is this, whale sperm?'

Red nodded and sat back, yet he could not keep that smile from creeping across his face. Perhaps it was because he was recalling a fond memory of Charlie, maybe because Kat was mentioned, or both. Red's brain was too frazzled to think clearly, so he just stuck with smiling.

"So this chick, Kitty, she's something special?" Classic Charlie, Red thought again, calling a girl by the wrong name. How long had he called Natalie 'Nicki' before she finally gave in? This was not one of the habits Red had picked up from Charlie. Mostly because it did not work. Not for long term, at least, and that was all Red was concerned with. 'Long term' was probably one of the scariest things someone could say to Charlie. Maybe that was why he raced for six different teams in his career, or could not keep a steady girlfriend, or why his only friend in F1 was Red.

But Red nodded. He wanted to keep the conversation going. "Yeah, Kat's great. She's an engineer, actually."

"Oh?" Charlie was surprised.

"Yeah," Red grinned. "Environmental engineering. She wants to help the planet; isn't that great?"

Charlie had always admired Red's ability to fall in love. It was so true and real, almost tangible. He fell into it wholeheartedly and, unlike Charlie's many failed relationships, he worked hard to maintain it.