Chapter Text
The cool early-morning breeze whipped like an affectionate hand through Charles’s already tousled dark hair as he continued to sprint down the path, breath rapid and creating small clouds of steam in the still air.
He lifted a calloused hand to clumsily wipe the sweat clustering on his brow, attempting to pick up the pace, gasping for breath as he did so.
A run at the start of the morning always calmed his nerves, which constantly seemed to be on edge, waiting for an attacker that wasn’t there, waiting to block the strike that would never come.
Just like he had been trained.
The Ferrari Academy of Youthful Spies, a place that seventeen-year-old Charles would have practically drooled over, but that present day Charles would reluctantly call home.
Every time he went for a run, it felt like he was escaping that place, like he was infinitely closer to a normal life.
And then reality would slap, each time harder than the last, until Charles questioned why he even bothered anymore.
These precious hours spent hotfooting through the neatly carved path directly through the trees that concealed the Ferrari Academy were hours that Charles couldn’t recreate cooped up in Mattia’s office, feeling tired and stressed and done with the place he had once dreamed of visiting.
They were hours that Charles felt like a normal person.
He skidded to a halt as the path morphed from dirt to gravel, signifying the transition from woodland to suburbanity.
Now, he thought grimly, I must turn back and pretend like I enjoy being taught to fear everything with a pulse.
It was true, Charles was one of the luckiest people alive to be where he was currently, but sometimes he felt like the lucky ones were the ones who lived peacefully, in complete happiness that Charles would never have.
The sulking man gently dragged the toe of his sneakers over the path, creating a small trail in the dirt.
It was almost six, if Charles wasn’t back by half seven, the consequences were worse than he dared to dream of.
Charles’s reluctant trudge became a brisk jog as he fixed his hair and smoothed out the creases in his shirt.
A feeling settled on him, creeping up his back and shoulders like spiders.
The feeling of eyes watching him.
Charles stopped and scanned the surrounding area, his hand flying to his pocket and rummaging for anything useful as a weapon.
His ears pricked for footsteps or leaves rustling.
Nothing.
With a soft sigh, Charles let his hand drop to his side.
The feeling hadn’t left, but Charles ignored it.
Redbull territory wasn’t too far away, and the possibility that the spies had mapped out his daily running route and been sent to…
The paranoia screaming like a siren in Charles’s head made him uneasy, but he continued to run nonetheless.
A sound like leaves being pushed away and feet scuffling over the earth made Charles freeze in his tracks.
His heart was pounding and his stomach churning like a washing machine.
Something was here, Charles was sure of it, but he had no way of telling who or what it was.
The nearest weapon was a fairly blunt stick. Depending on the size of whatever was tracking him, that was an option, or he could use the trees to gain high ground.
Thoughts pounding his head like battle axes made Charles forget to look above him, so he only had a minute to process it before a heavy thump sounded beside him.
Hit it whilst it’s still stunned!
The voice of Mattia in his head gave Charles’s hand a mind of it’s own as it lashed out and connected with the thing beside him.
It collapsed immediately with a loud, startled grunt.
When it rolled over and brushed its jet black hair out of its eyes, Charles barely managed to keep his voice down.
“Carlos?”
The dazed Spaniard below him managed a smile.
“Heh, Cabron.”
“What… what are you doing here? Did Mattia send you?”
Carlos clambered to his feet and dusted the dirt off his jacket.
“Yeah, he did, there was an emergency and he needed to speak to us.”
Carlos Sainz was Charles’s roommate and best friend, and had been since they had both moved to the Ferrari Academy to train to become the best spies in Ferrari.
“What’s with the sneaking up on me?” Charles asked, his heart still pounding in his chest from the terror of Carlos’s ambush.
“Just a test.” Carlos winked.
“What was the emergency?”
“Don’t know, Mattia asked me to find you. I saw your shoes were gone and this is the only exit from the academy, so I followed you by taking the high ground.”
Carlos pointed to the trees.
“How’d you even get up there?”
He paused.
“That is besides the point. Let’s go, Mattia would kill you if he knew to tried to escape.”
“I wasn’t—“
“Try to keep up!”
Before Charles could react, Carlos gripped the trunk of the nearest tree and used the uneven bark to scrambled up it, making a leap for the branched like a monkey.
The Spaniard used his momentum to swing over to the neighbouring tree, before continuing to clamber over the treetops, leaving Charles to follow on foot, tracking his friend closely through the canopy of leaves.
Carlos only emerged when the Academy was in sight, the rising sun casting a soft glow over the bright red of the building, which looked like a raging forest fire from a distance.
The only thing that ruined the sight, in Charles’s opinion, was Mattia.
He stood with his arms folded and his eyes glaring menacingly at Charles through his spectacles.
“Dove diavolo sei stato, Charles? Ho convocato una riunione di emergenza più di un'ora fa!” The Italian snapped angrily.
“Mi dispiace, signor Binotto, stavo solo prendendo un po' d'aria fresca.” Charles replied, hoping the punishments wouldn’t be too severe, or that Mattia would be so caught up in the emergency that he would forget and Charles would be let off the hook.
Mattia scowled and shook his head, ushering Charles and Carlos into the building.
The Ferrari Academy was just waking up.
Mick was sipping coffee and gazing contently into a computer screen, and Oscar and Nyck were off to training, waving at the two men as they entered and proceeded to Mattia’s office.
As soon as they were hidden from the prying eyes others, Mattia began to pace restlessly, muttering in Italian and trying to smooth down his upright black curls.
“Gesù Cristo… Fernando had better not do anything stupid… but it Mercedes found out… Merda, non voglio pensarci.”
“Uh, Mr. Binotto?”
Charles’s voice draws Mattia from his anxious episode.
“May I ask… why are we here?”
Charles had learned long ago to respect Mattia and the others above him at the Academy, as he wasn’t very tolerable of assertive people.
He expected Mattia to drill into him about informality, but the Italian just turned and asked in a quiet voice,
“Do either of you know Fernando Alonso?”
Charles racked his brain for the name, but it didn’t sound familiar.
He shook his head.
Carlos paused, and said,
“I think I know him. He worked with Mick in the technology department, right?”
Mattia nodded, enthusiastic.
“Precisely. Are either of you aware that he went missing over a month ago?”
Charles was confused.
“Why does it matter? Is he in danger.”
Mattia said nothing, but just stared at his polished Oxfords.
“If Redbull or Mercedes find out he’s missing and not in our line of sight, I fear so.”
“And you’re telling us this because…?”
Carlos questioned.
Mattia took a deep breath, and removed his glasses, folding them and placing them on the table he was leaning on.
“You’ve both been training for around seven years with us. You’re not the best, or the most experienced, but you have the most potential. Charles, nobody in almost a hundred years of the Ferrari Academy has been as intelligent and cunning as you. And Carlos, you may have the best physical fitness of anybody I’ve ever seen. There’s nobody else I see better for this.”
“For what?”
“Fernando needs help, and there’s no way I could give it to him. I’ve been assessing the Academy for anybody I could send to retrieve him. You two have caught my eye the most.”
“You want us to go and save Fernando Alonso before he gets picked off by Redbull or Mercedes.” Carlos summarised.
Mattia nodded in confirmation.
It was clear to Charles now that it wasn’t a question, it wasn’t up for debate.
It was an order.
To do what Mattia was asking was to risk his life, to do something that would be both brave and stupid on another level.
It was a risk Charles wasn’t willing to take.
“I can’t.” He said simply.
Both Carlos and Mattia turned to face him, and Charles avoided their gazes, which were tainted with shock and some disappointment.
“Why?” Carlos asked gently.
Charles didn’t have a straight answer.
He wasn’t ready. Not to go out and do this, not to throw his life away before it had begun.
“I just can’t.”
And with that, Charles walked out of the door.