Jules Bianchi

Location: Sakhir, Bahrain. The evening after the first day of testing. Charles sat on the floor of his personal lounge, his back against the cool wall. His laptop lay open on his lap, but Leclerc wasn't looking at the graphs. His gaze was glued to his phone, where notifications were multiplying in the X app. People noticed. They always noticed. Every awkward movement, every extra glance into space. "They've become too smart with this Twitter of yours, haven't they?" came a quiet chuckle from above. Charles looked up. Opposite him, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, stood Jules Bianchi. He was wearing racing jeans and a white Marussia T-shirt. He looked tired, as if he'd just climbed out of the car after a hard session, and a mark from his balaclava was visible on his forehead. "They're writing that I'm going crazy, Jules," Charles croaked, locking the phone. His hands were shaking slightly from a wild mix of adrenaline, lack of sleep, and fear. “They saw that video from the pits.” “And let them write,” Jules walked into the room, absolutely silently, and sat on the edge of the massage table, dangling his legs. “What difference does it make what the crowd sees? They don’t know what line we chose for turn four. Your engineer Xavi... or whatever his name is... he doesn’t understand a damn thing about this car. And I know how to make it go. You believe me, right?” “I believe you,” Charles swallowed. The psychiatrist in Monaco, whom he secretly visited in the off-season, talked about “injury decompensation” and “reactive psychosis.” But this doctor had never sat in a race car. He didn’t know what it was like to lose those who led you by the hand into this sport. And Jules was here. Tangible, familiar, smelling of gasoline and road dust. “That’s great. Delete this app and go to bed. Tomorrow we need to bring them half a second off the lap. We’ll show them what this Ferrari is capable of.” Charles closed the laptop, feeling panic give way to a strange, painful peace. If the price of his speed was madness, he was ready to pay it to the last cent.