#bloop anon

The office is bright white with a panoramic view of the riviera. It used to make Max smile when he was just coming in for a regular check up, but now that he's here for a serious issue and GP is sitting next to him as both a comfort and jailer, Max only finds it strange.

A doctor's office with a multi-million euro view? Odd. He think of his medical bill then and supposes if they're charging everyone the same it's probably earning more than it costs. GP had raised an eyebrow when they'd come in, muttering something about nationalised healthcare under his breath that Max had been to scared to laugh at. It was probably funny, he thinks, because GP is funny.

"Dr Kleinman is running just a few minutes late," the receptionist tells them from behind the desk. Max is the only patient here, so he knows she's talking to him.

GP nods, hands clasped in his lap and calmly watching the TV on the other side of the waiting room.

"You speak French?" Max asks, looking between GP and the screen with French subtitles.

"Not much," GP looks at Max, "but there are some similarities with Italian that I can get the gist,"

"Oh," Max presses his lips together, uncertain as the question he's been meaning to ask comes back to the surface, "um, GP,"

"Mr Verstappen?" Dr Kleinman appears from around the corner, dressed in lilac scrubs and smiling warmly at them.

GP looks to Max, raising his eyebrows, and Max swallows and stands. Right. Time to see the doctor. Hands suddenly clammy, Max stands and then in the last moment blurts, "willyoucomeinwithme?"

"Of course," GP stands too then, a steady presence at Max's back as they walk to the clinic room. He introduces himself to the doctor, shaking her hand as he says, "I'm Gianpiero, Max's friend,"

Max's friend.

That's why GP is here, because he's Max's friend and is worried about the headaches and the sight loss and all of the things that might go wrong this year. He's Max's friend and Max promised his friend that if they won the championship he would see a doctor.

"Good to see you again Max," Dr Kleinman gestures to the seat beside GP and rounds the desk, "can you tell me a little about what's brought you in today?"

Max takes a deep breath, staring at the framed medical degree to the right of her smiling face and thinks about how to explain the things he's been feeling. How the headaches have been getting worse. How his sight has been deteriorating. How his pupils had blown after Abu Dhabi but it wasn't because of a cheeky line like the rest of the guys.

He doesn't say any of that, and next to him GP shifts, "Max got a concussion following a crash last year, and since then he's been experiencing migraines and blurred vision,"

"Is that right Max?"

He nods. Of course it's right, GP said it. GP is right almost all of the time. He's hoping GP was also right when he said everything would be okay. Max needs everything to be okay.

"Alright, can you tell me a little bit more about the crash? I don't think I've seen you since January 2021,"

Max opens his mouth to respond, finds his throat dry, and swallows roughly. He tries again then, "I was under the team doctor for the crash,"

"Okay, do you happen to have the notes from the incident?"

Max shakes his head but GP is unzipping his backpack, taking out a folio with neatly printed notes and handing it over. He looks at Max then, winking and zipping his bag closed again, "I thought they'd come in handy,"

"51G is an awful lot to withstand, I'm impressed you walked away with just a concussion," she comments, looking up from where she'd been scanning Max's information, "they cleared you to drive while you were having issues with your vision,"

GP clears his throat, and Max confesses, "well I didn't- GP is the only one who knows,"

"Do you know what Second Impact Syndrome is Max?"

"No," Max shakes his head, anticipating that he'll be getting a telling off now, "no, I don't,"

"It's what can happen if your brain isn't given time to recover properly from a concussion," Dr Kleinman closes GP's folio and sets it aside, "a second impact, even a much smaller one than the first, can cause your brain to swell rapidly. Most times it's fatal, it happens so fast."

Next to Max, GP scrubs his hands over his face, clearly agitated.

"We were fighting for the Championship," Max breathes, "I couldn't- I couldn't afford to leave anything on the table,"

"Driving at the speeds you do, under those G forces, it could have been enough to herniate your brain," Dr Kleinman tells him, "I won't berate you any further, but I think it's important you understand that concussions are very serious injuries, Max."

"I understand," Max says, perfunctory, "can you help me?"

"We'll start with an exam and some diagnostics," she begins typing, clicking, typing again, "and we'll get some medication prescribed for the headaches. I'm assuming you're still following a fairly strict diet and exercise routine?"

"Yes,"

"Does that include hydration?"

"Yep," Max flushes, thinking of the input/output charts Brad has him do regularly.

"Okay, that's good to hear. How long until the season starts?"

"Testing is in 5 weeks," GP tells her, "ideally Max should already be in the simulator but we have our second driver in at the moment,"

"You want him in the simulator sooner?"

"I want him fit and healthy," GP clarifies, "but since I'm the only person who knows about the ongoing issues there are only so many excuses we can come up with to keep him out,"

"Have you been in the simulator since your season finished Max?"

"No," he shakes his head, looking down at his lap and clenching his fingers, "no, I tried but it- I thought it was better not to,"

"So your brain has had a good- what, six weeks? Of recovery time,"

Max nods, looking up through his lashes to see Dr Kleinman still staring at her computer screen as she types, glancing back to Max to catch the end of his nod.

"That's good, yes?" GP asks, sitting forward in the chair.

"The more recovery time the better," she explains, "we'll get some blood today, I'll send you to the hospital for a CT and an EMG to check for nerve damage, muscle weakness. Just to be safe."

"I- I can still drive?"

"I'd rather you didn't until we have the results and I've spoken with my neurology colleagues," Dr Kleinman frowns, sitting back in her chair, "but given that you've already driven through what I anticipate to be the worst of it, I guess whether I say yes or no you'll be in the car in 5 weeks."

"GP is here," Max tells her, frowning.

She looks between them, puzzled as GP barks a sharp laugh, looking at Max and then back to the doctor.

"I'm not understanding the significance of that, I'm afraid,"

"We had a deal," GP explains, "that after the season was done and the championship was ours, Max would come see you,"

"And you won the championship," she nods, "so here you are,"

"GP will not let me in the car if you say I can't drive," Max tells her.

"So there is someone who can stop you," she muses, "interesting,"

"It's a marvel to me too," GP grins at Max, "somehow the universe picked me,"

"You are of course the most competent person on the team," Max reasons, "except maybe Hannah,"

GP grins, shaking his head, and pulls his phone out of his pocket, "I can be back here next week to take you for the scan if you want Max? Do you think the hospital can fit us in then?"

The juddery part of Max that was getting nervous again settles, realising GP isn't going to leave him in this, that he's going to come back and help him be brave again. GP isn't leaving him.

"I would think so, probably Thursday next week?"

"You happy for a houseguest next week?" GP looks at him, curious, and Max is nodding before he even realises.

He wants that. Wants GP with him through this. Keeping him safe and strong, watching his back like always.