Chaos on the F1 Grid

Charles was torn, he had sympathy for what George was going through – having his private life discovered and being afraid of losing everything – but he could have killed the woman Charles loves. When he had seen Pierre carrying her through the club unconscious his heart had shattered. The reason for never sharing those private hopes and dreams, for fear of losing them before he ever got to experience it – seemed to be coming true. He had taken her from Pierre immediately and held her close, Pierre hadn't argued – he understood that Charles was terrified of losing her, and needed to be near to her, he also knew it was likely what Eleanore would want. Charles refused to leave her side in the hospital - much to the annoyance of the doctors and nurses. When he woke up in the morning, he felt Eleanore was playing with his hair, and he didn't open his eyes for a while, just enjoying the feel of it. Eventually though, that voice in his mind that reminded him of the hurt and pain, and was afraid of feeling it again got louder and he suddenly sat up – as if he had suddenly awoken in that moment, and not the 5 minutes earlier.

Eleanore: hi

Eleanore's voice was still hoarse – which was to be expected, Charles smile faded the moment he saw how bruised her neck was. This made Eleanore self-conscious and her hands went to her throat, and she let out a pained noise when she had touched the bruises.

Charles: don't, you need to be careful. Don't try to speak ok, I will get you something to drink.

Eleanore: George?

Charles turned around confused as to why she had said that he looked at her.

Charles: he came by...

Eleanore: I know

Charles: you heard?

She nodded, and Charles thought she was angry with him, but when she took her phone out and began typing – he knew that wasn't the case when he saw the message appear on his phone.

Eleanore: thank you, I wasn't ready to see him.

Charles: you are welcome. I told you; we've got you!

Charles gave her a soft smile, then walked to the nurses station to ask for something for Eleanore to drink. They didn't have to wait long, the nurse brought through water, a while later the same nurse came with the ice pack for her throat – this had been happening every hour. Charles watched as they put the ice pack on a thin piece of muslin and secured it around her throat – to help with the swelling – he couldn't see that it was doing much at that point, but he conceded he wasn't a medical expert and should trust the doctors and nurses. He was worried for Eleanore, he was worried about the pictures he knew the paparazzi had taken, and how angry she was going to be at him when she finds out that he turned social notifications off on her phone to allow her to sleep. Or how annoyed she would be when she sees the footage of him slamming George into a wall and shouting at him, he knew it won't have helped the situation.

Eleanore: you don't have to stay; I am sure you have a flight home and want to get back to your family.

Charles read the message, and wasn't sure if she was trying to get rid of him because she didn't want him here, or if there was another reason.

Charles: I am not leaving. You will fly back to Monaco with me when they discharge you.

Eleanore: you don't have to do that.

Charles: I would do the same for any friend.

He saw her smile fade slightly, and regretted saying it – he knew he kept saying friend to remind himself that is what they are... to not let himself get too vulnerable.