Lando/Carlando

Little Carlos is lying in bed after a kart race weekend. He sniffles a little as he thinks about his day, wiping his snotty nose on the pillowcase.

The day had started out fine. He had a great time in the practice sessions and they all played football in between. He even got to wear his fancy national team shirt that someone gifted him via his dad.

But then, in the race, the other boys turned on him and he kept being pushed off the track.

He doesn't get it. You're not supposed to, it says so in the rules. It hurts all the more, because he really thought he had made some friends before.

After the race, his dad pulls him aside by his arm. He looks disappointed, a little grumpy even. Carlos expects him to commiserate with him, but instead he kneels down with a sigh and looks him in the eyes as he tells Carlos: “If you want to succeed, you have to toughen up son. This is a hard world. Those boys are not your friends. You either bite, or get bitten. You understand?”

Carlos takes a deep breath, doing his best to swallow the lump in his throat. He feels the tears burning behind his eyes, because he doesn’t understand. He shouldn't cry though, his dad doesn't like it. He's only home so few days, that he deserves Carlos' brave face, even if he doesn't feel it. He nods and starts packing up his kit.

Back in his bed, a couple of big fat tears escape his eyes. He presses his face into the pillow that feels too hot and a little moist. He loves racing, he really does, but he doesn't want to bite. Doesn’t know how. Doesn't know if he wants to know how. He's a good boy, like his mamá taught him.

He heaves a big stuttering breath and wishes really hard, balling his little fists and squeezing his eyes, that there would be a really nice boy, like him, to race and play with. One that's kind, like himself, but very fast too. Because Carlos loves racing. He just wants to have a good time at the races. He can’t quite explain it but as he releases another big sigh he gets a strong feeling everything will be alright. Like a warm loving hug from his mamá. After yet another sigh he falls into a dreamless sleep.

Over in England, faerie mom Cisca looks at her 4 year old lugging dumbbells out of the gym and into the garden shed. She wonders what her little gremlin is up to now. He's such a lovely little boy with the kindest of souls. He just has a lot of energy to spare that he needs to get rid of somehow. As she continues to watch the doors of the shed burst open and out pops Lando on the lawn mower, sitting on top of the gym weights.

Laughter bursts out of her chest, but at the same time she is hit with a strong sense of sadness and despair coming through the ether. A fleeting sensation of a soul seeking companionship. There's a touch of melancholy to it. Which surprises her, because the sender feels very young indeed. She doesn't really know what to make of it. Her gift as an empath is not very specific, and this sad little one seems far away. Tears spring to her eyes though at the intensity of the feeling. As it slowly ebs away again, she focuses on her own little one. Who is seemingly having the time of his life on the lawnmower, squealing as he goes along the lawn in big circles.

Adam joins her side, putting an arm around her. He nudges her side saying: “He seems to have found a new hobby. How about I get him a kart, so he doesn't have to keep hauling the gym weights out? It would be a nice way for him to let off some steam, don't you think?”

And even though, after the dirt bike scares and her not being a fan of her baby going that fast, Cisca knows that they should do this. She can’t explain it, but she does. As she concedes, she feels the heaviness that was weighing on her from experiencing the sad little one lift. I hope you will be OK, she sends as she walks inside to get a bath going for her own little gardener.

The years fly by and little Lando does really well in his kart. He beats his brother first, everyone else later and he gets promoted through the series. Cisca can see how much he loves racing, but she misses her little boy. Her tiny nymph running around the garden stark naked, screeching, while his dad and big brother chase him with super-soakers. Him sitting in a nest of mismatched blankets, hair tousled from the in promptu nap he just had. Or even when he was bigger and snuggled up to her on the sofa, putting his head in her lap and let himself be pet like a cat. And it hurts her, seeing how hard this racing world can be on him. But it also makes her proud, how he remains this kind hearted young man. Even as his star keeps rising, she cannot help but wonder sometimes, if they shouldn't have just let him tucker on on his lawnmower instead. What it was that set them on this path. And she spends a little moment thinking about the Sad Little One she sensed the night they decided to buy Lando his first kart. There’s never any clearer line between them, but she’s sure she feels him sometimes. Like she knows the cadence of his being. Sometimes, it’s like he’s just around the corner. Untouchable, but she always sends him a warm thought or a comforting hug.

The years pass and Lando makes it all the way to Formula 1. The day he goes to meet his new teammate, Cisca feels a surge of positive emotion run through her. It's not her own, and it's not her family either, she has learned to discern them from others over the years. She knows this soul though and it makes her happy that the Sad Little One apparently is having a good day, just like her Lando. She shrugs it off and goes about her day.

Months go by and then she gets to meet Lando's new team. Amongst them his teammate, Carlos Sainz, a handsome, well mannered Spanish young man. She's seen his pictures, seen some interviews, looked up his parents online. His dad seems to be a tough old rally racer and she's read some one liners that she didn't like at all. Bite, or get bitten, such dominant nonsense. She’s glad for her Adam, who like her, raised their children with love and kindness instead.