ORBITER ¥ LH44/NR06
"I look exhausted, oh, stiff and awkward on the outside of the moment ..."
PAIRING: Lewis Hamilton x Nico Rosberg
SYNOPSIS: IN WHICH Naomi Imani Brooks went to Monaco not looking for a father but hoping to leave without one. She instead gets stuck with two.
CONTENT: angst, fluff, chosen families, mentions of child neglect, child abuse and child abandonment. Lewis and Nico get painfully attached to this adorable little girl, Lewis is trying his best, Nico is trying his best, Susie Wolff comes in clutch, Roscoe being an emotional support dog (he is alive because I say so). Charles Leclerc adding nothing but being a well intentioned nuisance. Ferrari being nosy, probably unrealistic court proceedings.
PART 1: Lewis Hamilton is accosted outside his apartment by a little girl with his face, claiming to be his daughter and threatening him with legal paperwork. Nico Rosberg's laughter is not appreciated. (Part 2)
Word Count: (3.4k)
LEWIS WAS HALF DISTRACTED AS HE STEPPED THROUGH THE ELEVATOR DOORS, PHONE IN ONE HAND, READING A TEXT FROM HIS TRAINER, AND A BAG OF GROCERIES IN THE OTHER.
He was part way through unlocking his door before he looked down and froze mid movement.
A little girl stood in the hallway, right beside his door, a tiny backpack hanging off one shoulder, a sheet of paper clutched in both hands like a school assignment. She couldn’t have been older than eight, her tight curly hair mussed from travel, the knees of her jeans scuffed, and she was staring up at him with an expression far too calm for a child standing alone outside a stranger’s apartment in Monaco.
He blinked at her, taking her in and she blinked back up at him.
Warm brown skin, dark steady eyes, the shape of her mouth--his mouth.
He made a low sound of distress.
The little girl looked at him then to his door, then back at him like she was trying to compare his face to a mental picture. Then she unfolded the paper in her hands, looked down at it then back up at him.
“Are you Lewis Carl Davidson Hamilton?”
His pulse kicked so hard it made him dizzy.
“Y-yes.”
She nodded once, satisfied, and held out the paper.
“I need you to sign this, please.”
Lewis took the paper automatically, hands trembling. The heading hit him first.
VOLUNTARY TERMINATION OF PARENTAL RIGHTS.
His stomach dropped so violently he had to grab the doorframe for balance. Then he looked back at her. Really looked at her.
The arch of her brows, the little concentrated crease between them. The exact shape of her nose, the shape of her eyes. It was like looking at a childhood photo of himself, if someone had shifted it slightly, made it smaller, softer, a little girl instead of a little boy.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, horrified.
The girl shifted her weight, “You’re supposed to sign the bottom,” she explained, pointing at the paper.
Lewis stared at her, stared at the paper, then her again.
His voice came out thin as he dropped the bag of groceries, “Wait here.”
He didn’t wait for a response, didn’t look down at the loaf of sourdough that had almost toppled out of the bag, he just turned and ran.
~~~~
When Nico Rosberg told Lewis Hamilton that they could work on their relationship after ten years of self induced angst and mutual sabotage, he did not expect it to mean that the other man had full reign over Nico’s nights and evenings, but clearly that had become the case.
To say that he was surprised that Lewis had appeared at his door at 6:30pm on a Wednesday would be a lie. He was more surprised by the force and desperation Lewis banged on his door with, the wood all but rattling off its hinges. Nico almost thought it was the police. When he opened the door to find a half hysteric Lewis, he scowled.
“Mate, be serious, why are you knocking on my door like that--.”
Lewis cut him off by grabbing his wrist.
“Come upstairs.”
Nico frowned, “What?”
“Now.”
There was something in his face that made Nico’s annoyance melt away into concern. He let himself be dragged, barefoot, up the stairs and into Lewis’ apartment.
“What is going on?”
Lewis pointed wordlessly towards the kitchen.
Nico followed his finger and stopped dead.
Sitting on Lewis' counter, eating a loaf of sourdough bread straight from the bag was a little girl, she was tiny, narrow in a way she shouldn’t be--but her eyes were wide and brown and doe like, he recognized them immediately. He had spent decades of his life looking into those eyes, searching for those eyes in the crowd. Lewis’ eyes. Lewis’ mouth, Lewis’ face copy pasted onto a little girl.
She looked up at them and waved, “Hi.”
Nico suddenly overwhelmed with disbelief and shock did the only he could, he laughed, out right. All but cackled. Doubling over and bracing himself against the door.
“Its not funny,” Lewis hissed.
Nico continued to cackle.
“Nico!”
“Mate, that’s your face!”
Lewis punched him in the shoulder, “It’s not funny!”
Nico forced himself to hold back his cackles behind a trembling smile. “You’re right--I’m sorry--its fucking hillarious.”
“Nico! I’m about to have a panic attack, stop laughing,” Lewis all but begged looking more light headed by the second. That sobered him quickly, he stepped towards Lewis, pressing a hand to the other man’s ribs in a soothing gesture.
“Its okay, it’s all right.”
The girl watched placidly, taking another bite of sourdough.
Nico turned his attention back to her, stepping closer but keeping enough distance not to crowd her. “Hello, darling.”
She looked at him calmly, “Hi,” she said around a mouthful of bread.
“What’s your name?”
She took her time to answer, chewing and swallowing. “Naomi. Naomi Brooks.”
Brooks. He knew that name.
Lewis made a low sound from behind him, watching with a hand over his mouth. Nico kept his focus on Naomi. “That’s a beautiful name,” he pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m Nico,” he pointed to Lewis. “That’s Lewis.”
“I know who he is.”
“Oh? And who is he to you?"
"He's my biological father," she said bluntly before she reached into her backpack and pulled out a paper. Flattening it out against the counter. “I need him to sign that," she said matter of factly.
Lewis made another wounded sound.
Nico pointed at the paper, “Can I look at it?”
She slid it across the counter and Nico took it peering at the contents, he made a sound.
VOLUNTARY TERMINATION OF PARENTAL RIGHTS.
He looked back at her, “Why do you need him to sign it?”
“Because then they’ll probably let someone adopt me faster.”
~~~~~~
The words hit Lewis like a slap. He stepped forward.
“What?”
Naomi shrugged like she was explaining homework and not legal paperwork. “If that doesn’t work, then when I’m fourteen I can probably apply for emancipation. But that takes longer, so I figured this was easier.”
The room went completely still, Nico looked at Lewis and for the first tim there actually seemed to be a hint of fear in his friend’s face. Because that was not a normal thing for a child to say. Lewis stumbled to the counter and collapsed on a stool so hard he almost missed the seat,
Naomi took another bite of bread.
“Naomi,” he started carefully, voice shaking, “how did you get here?”
“From California.”
Nico made a sound of dread.
“No,” Lewis said, pressing a hand to his forehead. “How did you get on a plane?”
She thought about it as slowly chewed on bread, then she shrugged. “Pure luck, honestly. And bluffing.”
Lewis made a choking noise, Nico braced himself against the sofa looking suddenly just as sick as Lewis felt.
Naomi flicked her brown eyes between them, expression eerily unimpressed as she took another bite of bread.
“They don’t really watch kids that much if you act like you know where you’re going.”
Lewis buried his face in both hands.
“Oh my god,” Nico whispered in German. Too many years beside him Lewis could recognize certain phrases as easily as he breathed. A flicker of amusement flashed across the blonde’s face. “She’s literally you.”
Lewis looked up sharply, shooting a look at Nico. “Shut up.”
But he was right. She really was. Not just in appearance but the careful disengaged tone. The quiet confidence. The terrifying commitment to plan that should have been impossible.
Lewis swallowed hard.
“Your mother,’ he said slowly, “Is she--is she Nancy. Nancy Brooks.”
“Yes,’ she looked shocked that he knew.
The confirmation hit his chest like a gun shot. A woman he dated briefly years ago in Los Angeles. A relationship so short, chaotic and toxic he had barely processed the break up. She never told him she was pregnant. Never called. Never reached out. Knowing her this was probably another way to get back at him for getting up and leaving when he had enough.
Naomi took another bite of sourdough. “She left one day. A couple years ago.”
Lewis looked up, she wasn’t looking at him, she was looking at the loaf.
Naomi’s tone remained flat, almost detached. “She said she was going to the store. She didn’t come back.”
Nico went completely still behind him, Lewis could feel it.
Lewis on the other hand could barely breathe, “How long were you alone?”
Naomi shrugged. “It was like…two weeks? Maybe more. I don’t really remember. The neighbour called somebody because I stopped going outside.”
Lewis had to shut his eyes, feeling suddenly dizzy.
“Naomi,” Nico’s voice was low, “How long is a couple years ago?"
“Four.”
“How old are you?”
“I’ll be eight next month.”
December.
She wasn’t even eight.
Four. She was four when her mother left.
Lewis’ hands shook and he made another wounded sound.
Noami looked down at his hands, then looked at him.
For the first time, Lewis saw her clearly.
She was exhausted. There were bags under her eyes and stiffness in the way she sat, like she was forcing herself upright. The hyper-alert stillness of a child who had learned not to expect help.
She wasn’t even eight.
Not even eight and talking about legal emancipation and foster care systems like she had already accepted no adult was coming to save her.
Something in Lewis broke so suddenly he had looked away so she wouldn’t see the tears beginning to build in his eyes. He took a deep breath and forced himself steady.
He turned back to her, standing and moving around the counter slowly as if approaching a frightened animal.
“Naomi.”
She tensed.
His voice was gentle. “You must be exhausted.”
Her eyes narrowed immediately, suspicious.
“I’m not dumb.”
“I know,” his voice cracked, “I can tell. You seem like a very smart girl."
That seemed to catch off guard.
He moved closer, not crowding, just trying to bridge that distance.
“No one’s taking you anywhere tonight. I know you came here for a reason, but you need sleep.”
She still watched him wearily.
He pointed down the hall on the ground floor, “There’s a guest room just down that hall. It’s yours for as long as you need it,” he chose his words carefully. “You can lock the door if you want. Nico and I will stay right here.”
She stared at him for a long moment. Then, like her little body had betrayed her, she yawned so hard her eyes watered. She looked absolutely furious about it, Lewis tried not to smile at her but failed and she looked just as furious about that too.
Beside him Nico put the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing, she shot him a sharp look also, he sobered immediately.
Naomi pointed a finger at Lewis, “If you call the police I’ll know.”
Lewis nodded solemnly,” Understood.”
She watched him suspiciously for a moment more before she slid off the island, picked up her backpack, and marched toward the guest room like she owned the penthouse.
The door clicked shut.
Silence fell.
Lewis stood frozen in the kitchen for a long moment before he grabbed his phone and called his lawyer.
Camille answered on the second ring. “Lewis?”
“I need you to run a full legal verification on a child.”
There was a long pause,”What?”
Lewis started pacing, hand trembling. “Her name is Naomi Brooks, she’s seven. She’s in my apartment and she says she’s my daughter.”
Camille was silent for a long moment, “Lewis," she began gently like she could hear the panic underlying his tone. “Are you sure this isn’t some prank?”
Lewis looked down the hall, then glanced at Nico who was staring at the half eaten loaf of sourdough bread like it had personally punched him in the gut.
Lewis’ voice went thin with panic, “I am literally looking at myself in miniature. She ate my sourdough loaf and threatened me with legal paperwork.”
The was a longer pause, then she sighed. “Text me the name. I’ll start immediately. Make sure she goes absolutely nowhere.”
The line disconnected.
Lewis lowered the phone, his hands were shaking so hard he almost dropped it. He turned to Nico who no longer looked amused, but looked just as stunned.
“What am I going to do?”
Nico looked down the hall towards the closed guest room door, then back at him. His expression softened into something almost unbearably tender. He stepped closer, resting both hands on Lewis’ shoulders in a familiar calming, grounding gesture.
“You’re going to breathe,” Nico said quietly.
Lewis laughed once, hysterical and broken.
Nico squeezed his shoulders.
‘And then,” he continued, glancing at the closed bedroom door where the little girl had finally let herself go rest, “you’re going to figure out how to become a father. Because I don’t think she crossed an ocean to let you say no.”
~~~~
The next morning, his lawyer, Camillie Laurent, knocked on his door at exactly 8:13 am.
Lewis had not slept.
He opened the door looking as wrecked as he felt--the same clothes as yesterday, hair a mess, coffee untouched in his hand. She swept past him without greeting, carrying a leather briefcase so overstuffed with files it looked one wrong move away from bursting.
She was brisk, composed, impossible to rattle…until she spotted Naomi.
Naomi was perched on the kitchen island once more, like chairs didn’t exist, dressed in one of Lewis’ oversized hoodies, the sleeves rolled up several times to reveal her little hands, eating dry frosted flakes straight from the box and swinging her feet back and forth.
Camille stopped dead.
Her face visibly blanched. “Oh.”
Then, very slowly, she looked at Lewis. “Oh.”
Lewis gave her a hollow look, “Exactly.”
Camille stared at Naomi a second longer. The child glanced back, expression entirely unimpressed.
Camille muttered, almost to herself, “No wonder you were certain.”
Nico, who was leaning against the espresso machine in Lewis' kitchen, snorted into his coffee, Lewis scowled at him, he looked away innocently.
Camille recovered quickly, setting the briefcase down and pulling out file after file, spreading papers across the marble counter top like she was preparing for trial.
“Her name is Naomi Imani Brooks,” she said, all business now. “Birth certificate exists. Mother listed matches the woman you named. The conception timeline aligns. There’s no immediate red flag suggesting forged documentation.”
Lewis stared at the papers.
It had been one thing to see Naomi standing in his doorway.
Another thing entirely to see legal proof of her existence.
Eight years of existence.
Without him.
Camille continued, voice grim. “Airline manifests confirm an unaccompanied minor matching her description boarded from Los Angeles and arrived in Nice yesterday. She should never have made it through multiple checkpoints alone, but somehow she did.”
Nico rubbed a hand down his face. “That’s insane.”
“It gets worse,” Camille said quietly.
She tapped another document.
“She has not been reported missing.”
The apartment went silent.
Lewis felt something cold move through him.
Camille’s expression tightened. “That means one of two things. Either no one has had eyes on her long enough to notice she’s gone—.”
“Or,” Nico said, already sounding sick.
Camille nodded once.
“Someone did notice and chose not to report it.”
Neither option felt survivable.
At the counter, Naomi was carefully sorting Frosted Flakes into groups of different sizes like the conversation had nothing to do with her.
Camille cleared her throat and shifted to the next stack.
“Legally, there are several immediate paths. Emergency temporary guardianship, petitioning for paternity confirmation while she remains in your care, contacting French and American child services jointly—.”
“The only legal path,” Naomi interrupted, not even looking up from her cereal, suddenly sounding decades older than she was, “is terminating his parental rights.”
All three adults froze.
Camille blinked.
Naomi set the cereal box down and slid off the counter. She walked over to the papers, small hands braced on the marble as she peered at them.
“That’s why I came.”
Camille, to her credit, recovered faster than most.
She crouched slightly, voice measured. “Naomi, that may not actually be the safest option for you.”
Naomi frowned at her like she’d just said something profoundly stupid.
“It is if I want to be adopted.”
Camille opened her mouth.
Naomi pointed at the paperwork.
“If he signs away rights and doesn’t contest placement, they can’t force me back to him if I get another placement first.”
Lewis stared.
Nico made a sound like he had forgotten how breathing worked.
Camille tried again. “That’s... not how it would necessarily work.”
Naomi crossed her arms stubbornly, “That’s what the library computer said.”
The room fell into a terrible, stunned silence.
Lewis looked at Nico.
Nico looked at Lewis.
Both of them were having the exact same thought.
She researched this.
A seven-year-old had sat at a public library computer and researched how to sever legal ties to a father she had never met because she thought it would improve her odds in foster care.
Camille, who had negotiated multimillion-dollar contracts and once reduced a tabloid editor to tears, looked visibly outmatched by a third grader.
Naomi pointed to one of the forms.
“That one says voluntary.”
Camille inhaled sharply. “You can read legal documents?”
Naomi gave her another look, that bordered on cussing her out, “I’m not dumb.”
Nico pressed his fist against his mouth so hard he nearly choked trying not to laugh at the sheer audacity, Camille shot him a glare so fierce he almost swallowed his tongue.
Lewis was somewhere between wanting to cry and wanting to pick Naomi up and never put her down again.
Camille straightened, clearly preparing for round two.
And then—a click of claws on hardwood.
Roscoe trotted into the kitchen.
The bulldog had apparently just woken from his nap, nails tapping across the floor, tail wagging lazily.
Naomi stopped mid-sentence. Every bit of sharpness vanished from her face, her eyes widening.
She gasped like she had seen actual magic, “Dog.”
Roscoe looked up at her, snorted once, and waddled directly to her side as though they had always belonged together. Naomi dropped to her knees so fast she nearly tipped over a stool.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, reverent.
Roscoe shoved his big wrinkled head directly into her lap.
And just like that—she was gone.
No legal strategy. No defensive posture. No tiny battle-hardened negotiator. Just a little girl giggling breathlessly as a dog licked her face. She buried both hands in Roscoe’s fur, laughing for what sounded like the first time since she had arrived.
The sound hit Lewis like a punch.
It was so young.
So unmistakably seven.
Nico’s expression changed too, something in him softening all at once.
Naomi looked over her shoulder, grinning so hard it no doubt hurt.
“He likes me!”
Lewis’s throat closed.
Roscoe, traitor that he was, rolled onto his back for belly rubs.
Naomi squealed and forgot every single adult in the room existed as she gave the dog exactly what he wanted.
Camille slowly turned to Lewis, lowering her voice.
The shift was immediate—serious again, but gentler now.
“She’s been neglected. That much is obvious. If California child services hasn’t flagged her yet, we need to move before they do and before anyone can classify this as international custodial interference.”
Lewis tore his gaze away from Naomi and Roscoe.
His voice came out rough. “What do I do?”
Camille glanced toward the child on the floor, now whispering secrets directly into Roscoe’s ear.
Then she looked back at him.
“For now? Nothing that makes her think you’re sending her away.”
Lewis swallowed.
Nico stepped closer beside him, shoulder brushing his in a way that grounded him just enough to stay upright.
Camille tapped the papers.
“We file for emergency paternity confirmation today. Quietly. I’ll coordinate with contacts in both countries. But Lewis,” she paused. Her usually unshakable face was unexpectedly gentle.“If the test confirms what all of us can plainly see, then the moment authorities become aware she’s here, they may try to remove her temporarily while jurisdiction is sorted.”
Lewis went still.
Across the room, Naomi laughed again as Roscoe sneezed in her face.
His chest hurt.
Camille lowered her voice further.
“So if you want any chance of keeping her with you, you need to start acting like her father now. Not when the paperwork says you can. Now.”
Lewis looked at the little girl on his kitchen floor, forehead pressed to his dog’s, smiling like she had forgotten for one perfect moment that the world had ever been cruel to her. And quietly, with something like terror and something like love threading together so tightly he couldn’t separate them, he realized he already had.
(Part 2)
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