19. Traitor

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"Traitor!" Lando attempts to cheer, his voice a little croaky as I step into the garage. Some of the engineers around him laugh at his words as I roll my eyes.

"It was one weekend at Ferrari which you helped organise, please." I groan coming to sit down beside him in the garage. He's holding an image of the track in his hands, notes scribbled around the page messily. I fan myself in the chair beside Lando, it's been incredibly hot around the track the last few days and there's absolutely no sign of today being any different. Sergio, one of the engineers, passes me a small handheld fan and I thank him quietly.

Everyone here is just so lovely, I could never ever complain about any of them. Despite the fun I had in Ferrari garage, Mclaren definitely feels more like home to me. A little less fancy sure, but more like home for me. Lando has been around here for three years now, he knows everyone's name and face and I'm getting there too with all the races I've attended this year.

"Don't tell Charles, cause I think he might cry," I trail off, flicking my eyes around as if I'm about to reveal some big secret. Lando is watching me with curious eyes. "but it's better here anyway." I explain lifting the fan closer to my face. "Carlos agreed after a few drinks too." I add and Lando grins smugly.

"I knew it!" He almost yells in victory and I have to fight a laugh at the grin on his face. Someone passes him a cool wet orange towel and he immediately folds it up and pressed it to his swollen eyes. Lando had been determined that Carlos made a mistake leaving the team here at Mclaren. I'd argue that the move had actually worked in Carlos' favour and Lando was(is) only sad about losing his friend as a colleague, but what do I know? "Probably best with not telling Charles though, the guy lives and breathes Ferrari." Lando notes and I nod in agreement.

"How are you feeling?" I ask turning to face him. His eyes are swollen, red and angry and I can only pout at how sore they look. My question was wasted breath really, I know he feels like shit. It's painfully obvious.

"Think I'm dying." He mutters frustrated as he reaches to wipe his eyes again.

"Is there nothing else you can take?" I ask, looking for one of the guys around the garage who usually consult on things like this. Lando only shakes his head.

"It could mess with my reaction times," he mumbles flexing his hands in front of him as if they were the wheel of the car. "I don't want to risk anything." Lando shakes his head. I can only nod at his words, feeling helpless with the situation. Lando had been struggling with hayfever, sickness and tonsillitis since we arrived, it's unlike anything I've seen before. Especially on him, he's usually not one to suffer too bad or at least not one to complain about it as much as he has. He's the kind of person that when he's really sick he just goes quiet. So, Lando's groaned complaints are a little alarming.

He's been so whiny that Mum even flew out Friday night so that she could check up on him. This is despite my reassurances that he'd be okay.

"If you're sick though..." I trail off and Lando just shakes his head, pressing the towel back to his face. His determination is admirable. I know Luisa and Mum have already tried but I did think it was worth the effort.

"I'll go to the medic straight after the race." He mutters, his voice going between normal and more croaky. He's so obviously painfully unwell.

"I think you should go now." I try to point out with a wince.

"They've seen me this morning." I know, I was there I feel like pointing out but don't.   He'll only get annoyed at me. He was much better than this this morning. I press the back of my hand against Lando's head and wince, he shakes away my touch. He's burning up. "I'll go after Ambs, I promise." He huffs, looking at me with big sorry eyes. They only make my worry increase but I take his promised words as the truth.

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