Chapter Text
They were sitting in a private plane, one of those new jets McLaren occasionally ordered when schedules grew too messy for commercial flights. Originally, it was only meant for the drivers. But Oscar had a soft spot for Esteban and Jack - leftovers from his Alpine days - and the invitation extended easily. The fact that it was Esteban’s birthday made it impossible for Lando to argue, and really, no one was surprised when Esteban asked if Ollie could come too.
He was glued to the kid, protective in a way that bordered on paternal. Esteban had said once - half joking - that Ollie felt like the little brother he never got to have. The way he stayed close, the way he fussed over him, it was hard to disagree.
“Proper grid dad,” Lando had teased, grinning as he leaned over the seat to watch Jack and Oscar play Mario Kart. - Standing in the aisle to get a better view. - “You’re turning into Sebastian.”
It should have been an insult, but Esteban only smiled, pride flashing briefly across his face like a badge of honor.
The cake had been small, just a slab of chocolate with a single candle stuck in the center. They’d passed it around, laughing, snapping blurry photos that wouldn’t see the light of social media. Esteban had blown the candle out hours ago, his half eaten slice still sat in front of him, forgotten.
That was the last moment of peace.
The drop came without warning.
One second, the jet hummed smoothly, conversations blending with the muffled roar of the engines. The next, the world pitched downward, violently enough that Esteban felt his stomach slam into his throat.
The cabin erupted. Shouts, curses, a half choked scream from the aisle. Esteban heard the unmistakable thump of a body hitting the floor, followed by a sharp cry.
The seatbelt bit into his chest as the plane shuddered, forcing him back into his seat. His hands gripped the armrests until his knuckles whitened.
He turned his head - Ollie’s wide eyes stared back at him, pale with terror, both hands clawing at the belt across his torso. Somewhere next to them, Jack shouted Oscar’s name.
The plane didn’t even out.
The crash was sudden, merciless.
The world folded in on itself with a sound Esteban couldn’t describe - metal shrieking, glass exploding, the thunder of impact vibrating through his bones. His ears felt like they’d burst under the pressure, searing pain so sharp he nearly blacked out. And in the haze of it, a detached, almost absurd thought flickered through him.
>>How am I not bleeding from my ears.<<
He wanted to move, to look for Ollie, to reassure him, but the force pinned him down, crushing, suffocating. The air filled with smoke and the tang of burning fuel. His head rang with silence and screaming all at once, and his chest seized with the impossible realization-
This wasn’t turbulence. This wasn’t going to stop.
When the plane finally stilled, Esteban let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His whole body was vibrating, ears still ringing from the impact, the faint taste of blood metallic at the back of his throat.
He turned to the right, where Jack and Oscar had been moments before, hunched shoulder to shoulder over a Nintendo Switch. The console was gone now - thrown God knows where in the wreck - and the two drivers sat dazed in their seats. Before Esteban could even ask if they were okay, Oscar unbuckled in a blur and bolted.
He stumbled hard, catching himself against a seat before barreling down the narrow aisle, urgency in every step.
Esteban’s stomach dropped.
The thump he’d heard during the crash. The scream. The missing body in their group.
Lando.
His seatbelt came undone with a snap, his hands fumbling against the buckle, and he forced himself upright. The aisle tilted unnaturally beneath his shoes, every step a fight for balance, debris sliding past his ankles. Jack was right behind him, his face pale, eyes sharp with a fear Esteban knew mirrored his own.
They would regret this later. Both of them.
When they reached the front of the cabin, Oscar was already on the floor. Kneeling. Cradling Lando. His arms wrapped around him with a desperate sort of care, his voice breaking in low, frantic words Esteban couldn’t make out over the ringing in his head.
Lando looked… alive. For someone who had been tossed around like a ragdoll, he didn’t look broken beyond recognition. His curls were plastered to his forehead with sweat and tears, his face blotchy, streaked with snot as he gasped into Oscar’s chest. His fingers twitched weakly against the fabric of Oscar’s shirt, clutching like a child.
But then Esteban’s gaze fell lower.
The leg.
Bent at an angle no human body should allow. Grotesque beneath the short fabric of his trousers. His skin stretched tight over the swell of bone pressing where it shouldn’t, forming bumps along the leg.
Esteban’s gut lurched. Bile surged hot in his throat, and he gagged, wrenching his head away before he vomited on the spot. His hand clamped over his mouth, eyes screwed shut, the image burned into his mind regardless.
The plane answered with a groan - a deep, metallic creak that shuddered through the cabin. The floor tilted again, a warning. Esteban’s heart seized with the realization: this wasn’t over. The wreck hadn’t settled.
Jack cursed sharply under his breath. He was already moving, shoving past Esteban to the emergency exit. His hands worked fast at the lever, and with a harsh metallic scream, the door gave way. Warm air flooded inside, sharp and biting, almost too warm to properly breathe.
The view outside made Esteban’s stomach twist again.
The fuselage had come to rest not on the ground but perched precariously atop a cluster of massive trees. Branches splintered under the weight, the whole plane balanced like a toy on a shelf. Below, the forest floor looked dark and distant. A drop survivable - if controlled. If careful. If luck was on their side.
“Fuck,” Esteban whispered, wiping at his mouth with a trembling hand.
They didn’t have time. The plane could give at any moment, and Lando couldn’t climb out on his own. They had to move him.
The plan formed quickly, desperation guiding it. Oscar would maneuver Lando as close to the opening as possible, lowering him until he was half hanging from the wreckage. Jack would be waiting below to catch him, to absorb the impact before Lando’s ruined leg could take the weight.
It was crude. Dangerous. But it was all they had.
Lando, however, was far from cooperative.
“No- no, no, no, I can’t- I can’t- don’t make me-” His voice cracked, high and panicked, every syllable tangled in sobs. His eyes had locked on the gap, the dizzying drop below, and terror consumed him whole. His chest heaved, breaths shallow and rapid, hyperventilation setting in as his hands clawed desperately at the seats around him.
“Lando, you have to,” Oscar urged, voice raw but firm. He tried to pry Lando’s hands free, his grip rough with urgency. “We don’t have a choice. Jack’s right there. He’ll catch you.”
“I’ll fall- I’ll fall- I’ll fucking fall-” The protest broke into a shriek, his body jerking against Oscar’s grip, kicking weakly with his good leg.
Oscar’s patience snapped. He shifted his weight, dragging Lando bodily toward the open door. His voice dropped lower, harder, words forced through clenched teeth. “Stop fighting me. Do you want to die in here? Is that what you want?”
Lando’s scream tore through the cabin, high and raw, echoing out into the forest below as Oscar forced him closer to the opening. His tears streaked hot down his face, his sobs collapsing into ragged gasps as his body trembled violently.
Esteban’s chest seized. His own hands shook at his sides, useless. He wanted to intervene, to help, to soothe - but the groaning of the wreck reminded him every second that time was bleeding away.
Jack’s voice carried from below, sharp, commanding. “Push him! I’ve got him, Oscar, just do it!”
Oscar’s jaw set. His arms tightened. And slowly, painfully, Lando’s sobbing form edged closer to the drop.
Oscar half dragged, half shoved Lando toward the hatch. The British driver clawed at the frame, sobs ripping through him, his whole body shaking so violently Esteban thought he might fall apart. His good leg kicked weakly, his broken one dragging limply, grotesque in its angle.
“Don’t let me fall, don’t let me fall, don’t let me-” Lando’s voice cracked on every word, collapsing into gasps.
“I won’t,” Oscar muttered, though his tone was strained, his movements anything but gentle. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead as he wrestled Lando's body out the door, his arms burning with the effort. He hooked his own body halfway out of the wreck, bracing one knee against a seat, until he was nearly dangling himself.
Below, Jack was ready - arms outstretched, feet braced wide in the dirt and leaves. His face was set, jaw clenched, eyes locked on Lando with a determination that bordered on desperation.
“Lower him! I’ve got him, Oscar!” he yelled, voice cutting through the creak of the fuselage.
Esteban hovered uselessly behind them, heart hammering so loud it drowned out everything else. The plane groaned again, metal bending under the strain, a warning that time was running out.
“Come on, come on…” Oscar gritted, inching Lando lower, until the man’s torso dangled from the wreckage. Lando thrashed weakly, arms flailing, his face blotchy and wet with tears.
“No! Don’t drop me! Please, I can’t-”
“You’re not going to fall,” Oscar snapped, more forceful now, his voice sharp as steel. “Trust me, Lando. Just let go.”
And then, with a sudden shove, he did it. He released him.
For one suspended second, Lando was weightless - a flailing silhouette against the dark treetops, a broken cry tearing from his throat.
Then Jack caught him.
The impact drove both of them to the ground with a thud, Jack’s arms locking tight around Lando’s torso as they collapsed into the dirt. A grunt ripped from Jack’s chest, his body curling instinctively to shield the younger man. Leaves scattered, branches snapped.
Lando screamed anyway, the sound raw and piercing as his broken leg jarred with the landing. His hands clawed at Jack’s shoulders, his sobs shaking his body.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you-” Jack’s voice was strained, breathless, but steady. He tightened his grip, holding Lando close as the boy buried his face into his neck, sobbing uncontrollably.
Above them Oscar swung himself out the opening, his shoes scraping metal as he lowered his body out of the door. He dropped the last meter with a grunt, landing hard but steady, before straightening and glancing up at Esteban before moving toward where Jack cradled Lando on the forest floor.
Esteban shifted forward, ready to follow, when something tugged at the back of his mind. A missing piece.
Ollie.
He froze.
His head snapped back toward the seats where they’d all started, and sure enough, there he was. Ollie, still strapped in place, small and rigid against the tilted fuselage.
For one horrible second, Esteban thought he was unconscious. That he’d been sitting there broken and silent the whole time, and they’d left him. His pulse spiked as he stumbled down the tilted aisle, debris clattering around his shoes.
But when he reached him, Ollie’s eyes were open. Wide. Bright. Startlingly aware.
Relief hit Esteban so hard his knees nearly buckled. He pressed a hand to the back of the seat for balance, forcing his voice steady. “Ollie. Hey. You have to get up, okay? We need to get you out of here.”
The rookie didn’t move. His gaze darted everywhere but Esteban - the broken windows, the tilted floor, the jagged metal catching in the dim light. His hands clenched tight around the belt across his chest, his knuckles bone white.
Esteban tried again, gentler. He crouched down so they were on eye level, the smell of smoke, metal and something else between them. “Listen to me. It’s safe if we go now. I’ll help you. But we have to move.”
Ollie blinked rapidly, his throat bobbing. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in the smallest, most timid voice Esteban had ever heard from him, he whispered:
“I… I peed myself.”
The words cracked in the middle, shame bleeding into every syllable.
Esteban’s chest tightened. He almost laughed - not at Ollie, but at the absurdity of it, at the way fear stripped them down to children no matter how grown they thought they were. But he didn’t. He didn’t even let the smile reach his face.
Instead, he reached out, careful not to touch too quickly, and said softly, “Hey. That’s okay. You hear me? That’s not your fault. No one’s going to laugh. Not me, not anyone. You’re scared. We all are.”
Ollie’s lips trembled. His eyes shone, glassy with unshed tears.
“You’re not alone,” Esteban continued, his voice firm but kind. “I’ve got you. All you have to do is let me help.”
Slowly - painfully slowly - Ollie’s grip on the seatbelt loosened. Esteban slid a steady hand beneath his arm and helped him unclip the buckle. His whole body was shaking, legs unsteady as he shifted his weight, but he moved. That was what mattered.
Step by step, Esteban guided him down the aisle, murmuring reassurance every time the wreckage creaked under them. He kept Ollie close, steadying him when his knees buckled, shielding him from the sharp edges of torn metal.
And when they reached the hatch, Esteban looked him in the eye one more time. “We’ll go together. You’re safe with me.”
Ollie nodded - a small, jerky movement - and Esteban tightened his grip before guiding him down.
–
They didn’t stop moving until the groan of the fuselage had faded into the background, swallowed by the wind and the trees. Only when the wreck loomed smaller behind them - a broken shadow balanced on branches that would not hold forever - did they dare to pause.
The group settled in a patch of uneven grass, damp with dew and littered with twigs. Esteban sank down first, his legs folding beneath him like they couldn’t bear his weight any longer. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. The adrenaline was still there, thrumming under his skin, but exhaustion tugged at him harder with every second.
Ollie dropped down beside him. Not just beside - close. Their shoulders brushed, their thighs pressed together, the younger boy leaning just enough for physical comfort but not enough to be obvious. Like he wanted a hug, like he needed it, but couldn’t quite ask. Esteban didn’t move away. He didn’t dare. He let him stay there, small and shaking, seeking quiet comfort in his proximity.
A few paces ahead, Jack stood rigid, arms crossed tight over his chest. His jaw was set, eyes locked on the figure in the grass in front of him.
Lando.
He was propped against a crooked tree root, pale as the moon, sweat shining across his face. His breaths came shallow, whimpering with every exhale. His mangled leg stretched awkwardly in front of him, bent in ways no limb should ever bend. Esteban couldn’t bring himself to look at it for more than a second - the sight still churned his stomach again - but it was impossible to ignore. Every time Lando shifted, every time he cried out, the horror of it carved deeper into them all.
And then there was Oscar.
Usually so calm.
Usually the steady one, the mediator, the quiet voice of reason.
Now he paced back and forth like a caged animal, his thumb between his teeth, gnawing at the nail until it bled. His curls were a mess, sticking to his damp forehead, his chest heaving with every ragged breath. His eyes kept darting back to Lando, then away, then back again, like he couldn’t stand to look at him but couldn’t bring himself not to.
No one spoke. The silence was broken only by the creak of the wreck far behind them and Lando’s muffled, hitched sobs.
Until Jack finally did.
“We need to set it.” His voice was low, rough, but steady. His arms tightened across his chest, like he needed to physically hold himself together. His gaze didn’t waver from the twisted mess of Lando’s leg. “And splint it somehow.”
The words hung heavy in the night.
Oscar stopped pacing. His shoulders stiffened, his back rising and falling with one deep breath, then another. Slowly, deliberately, he closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, they shone wet in the dark. His lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. He gave a single nod.
And that was when Lando realized.
His wide, tearful eyes locked onto Oscar’s face, reading the truth there before anyone could soften it with words. The panic hit instantly, violently - his whole body jolting back against the tree root, hands clawing at the dirt as though he could crawl away from what was coming. His breath hitched into wild, frantic gasps.
“No. No, no, no, no- you can’t- don’t touch it, don’t-” His voice cracked, raw with terror, his protests breaking into sobs that tore through the air.
Oscar flinched at the sound but didn’t look away. His jaw trembled. His fingers curled into fists at his sides.
Esteban felt Ollie press closer against him, the boy shrinking in on himself at the sound of Lando’s panic.
But the reality was there, undeniable.
If they didn’t set the leg, Lando wouldn’t make it.
Jack’s words sat in the air like a weight none of them could move.
Oscar stood frozen, fists clenched at his sides, Lando’s panic ringing sharp in his ears. He looked at Jack, as though hoping for a solution other than this, but Jack only stared back, steady and unflinching.
“It has to be done,” Jack said again, more firmly this time. His voice carried the authority of someone who had already decided, even if he hated himself for it.
Lando shook his head violently, curls flying, tears spilling fast. “No! No, please- don’t touch me, don’t- fuck, it hurts already, I can’t, I can’t-” His voice broke, high and thin, frantic hands clawing at the ground as though he could crawl away from his own broken body.
Esteban forced himself to tear his gaze from the situation at hand. He turned instead to Ollie, who was pressed tight against his side. The rookie’s face was pale, his eyes wide, fixed on Lando with horrified intensity. His body shook, every tremor betraying the way fear chewed through him.
Esteban leaned closer, murmuring low so only he could hear. “Don’t look. It’ll be okay, Ollie. He’ll be okay.”
Ollie shook his head quickly, his breath ragged, but he didn’t pull away. He stayed pressed against Esteban like an anchor.
Oscar scrubbed a hand down his face, dragging it roughly across his mouth. His composure was cracking, his voice hoarse when he finally spoke. “It should be me. He’ll… I should do it.”
Jack crouched in front of Lando, eyes scanning the mess of his leg with grim calculation. “Then do it. But we need something to bite on. And wood for a split, at least until we can find help.”
Lando whimpered, shaking his head again and again, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. “Please don’t. Please, Oscar. Don’t.”
Oscar’s throat bobbed, his lips pressed tight, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he ripped off his jacket, folding it fast into a thick bundle. “Lando, listen to me. You need to bite this. Otherwise, you’ll break your teeth when we do it.”
The British driver sobbed harder, curling away, but Oscar caught his chin gently, firmly, forcing his gaze back. His voice shook, but his words were steel. “You have to. Or you won’t walk again. Do you understand? You’ll thank me later, but right now you have to trust me.”
For a heartbeat, it looked like Lando would keep fighting. But then his strength gave out. His trembling hands clutched Oscar’s wrist, weak and desperate, before his mouth opened enough to let the balled up jacket slide in.
Jack returned with two rough branches, stripped of smaller twigs. He knelt again, positioning them carefully along the length of Lando’s ruined leg, his movements clinical, detached - as if pretending this was just another pit stop, another problem to solve.
Esteban turned Ollie’s face into his shoulder, shielding him from the sight. He whispered into the boy’s hair, “It’s alright, don’t watch. Just listen to me.” Ollie clung to him tighter, trembling.
Oscar positioned himself, one hand on Lando’s thigh, the other below the break. His knuckles were white, sweat dripping down his temples. His lips moved soundlessly for a moment - a prayer, maybe, or just a count.
Then he looked at Jack. “Hold him.”
Jack’s arms locked around Lando’s shoulders, pinning him against the ground. Lando thrashed weakly, muffled cries spilling against the jacket in his mouth. His eyes were wild, pleading, darting from face to face as if searching for escape.
Oscar shut his own. And pulled.
The snap was sickening. A raw, wet crack that sent Esteban’s stomach lurching, bile rising hot in his throat. Lando screamed into the jacket, a sound so raw it silenced even the forest around them. His body convulsed under Jack’s hold, every muscle straining, his fists pounding uselessly against the ground.
Oscar worked fast, his hands shaking but precise, forcing the bones back into rough alignment before strapping the branches in place with his belt. His breath came in ragged gasps, his jaw clenched tight to keep from sobbing himself.
When it was done, Lando sagged back, his body trembling violently, sweat pouring down his face. His cries had dulled to hoarse whimpers, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain.
Oscar collapsed beside him, one hand still resting on his shin, the other fisted in the dirt. His shoulders shook once, twice, before he forced himself still again.
Jack let out a shaky breath, his face pale and drawn.
Esteban didn’t move. He kept Ollie tucked firmly against him, murmuring over and over into the boy’s hair - not even sure if the words were in English or made sense - just filling the silence with something other than pain.
The night pressed close around them, heavy with the echo of Lando’s scream.
But the leg was set.
And for the first time since the crash, there was a fragile thread of hope.
For a long while, none of them spoke. The only sounds were the rasp of their breathing, the faint groan of the wreck, and Lando’s uneven whimpers as he lay crumpled against the roots.
Esteban stroked a hand down his own face, smearing sweat and grime across his skin. His muscles felt hollow, like they’d been wrung out and left to dry. He shifted slightly, feeling Ollie press in closer, the rookie still trembling against his side. Esteban tightened his arm around him without thinking. The boy needed it. Maybe he needed it too.
Jack stood hunched over, hands braced on his knees, staring at the ground like if he just looked hard enough, it would offer him answers. His chest rose and fell too quickly, but his jaw was tight, holding everything back.
Oscar hadn’t moved from Lando’s side. He had one hand brushing damp curls from Lando’s clammy forehead, the other resting lightly on the splinted leg as if to remind himself it was still there, still whole enough. His lips were pressed thin, his eyes darting across Lando’s face every time the younger man’s breathing hitched.
But Lando was slipping.
His eyelids fluttered, his lashes sticking together with tears, his chest rising shallow and slow. The jacket still hung loose from his mouth, damp with saliva and spit, pushed weakly aside as his lips parted. His skin had lost all color, pale even in the dim light of the forest.
“Stay with me,” Oscar whispered, his voice raw. He cupped Lando’s cheek, thumb brushing across sticky skin. “Don’t close your eyes yet, yeah?”
Lando’s gaze rolled unfocused, a low moan slipping from his throat. Shock was pulling him under, dragging him somewhere far away.
Jack’s eyes snapped up. “If he sleeps-”
“He needs rest,” Esteban cut in softly. His own voice surprised him, how calm it sounded despite the panic clawing his insides. “So do we. All of us. He will make it, he just needs to rest.”
Silence followed. Heavy.
Oscar looked like he might argue, his mouth opening, then closing again. He glanced down at Lando, at his pale face and trembling body, and finally gave a short, sharp nod.
They didn’t have shelter. No fire. No blankets. Just the grass, the trees, and each other. But exhaustion pressed down on them like gravity, pulling them all toward the ground.
Esteban leaned back, dragging Ollie with him until the boy was tucked awkwardly against his chest. Ollie didn’t resist. His thin frame curled into Esteban’s side instantly, his breaths shaky but evening out little by little. Esteban pressed his chin lightly to the top of Ollie’s damp hair, eyes closing.
Jack slid down onto the grass with a grunt, stretching out on his back, one arm flung over his eyes as though that could block out the world. His other hand stayed close, within reach of Oscar and Lando.
Oscar was the last to move. He eased himself into the grass, laying so close to Lando their sides touched, one hand resting protectively over the driver’s chest as to make sure his heart kept beating. His head bowed, fringe shadowing his face, his thumb brushing absent circles against Lando’s sternum.
Lando’s breathing stuttered, shallow, uneven, but steady enough. His eyes slipped closed at last, not in panic this time, but in surrender.
And for the first time since the sky split open and dragged them down, the forest was quiet.
The group lay there in the damp grass, battered, broken, and too exhausted to fight it any longer. Sleep came in fragments - shallow, restless, but enough to keep them alive until morning.