Yuki was the first one who started to worry about him. The young Japanese told him that the book he carried around with him now each and every day was cursed, that he was dimmed, muted by it. Pierre didn't feel like this was correct. He did feel more alive than he did in a long time. Felt as if the booklet was connecting him to something serine, to her.

It's true, he didn't go out all that much any longer and he didn't post things at all or like posts all that much. His phone only a distraction, he understood that now. He was in his own world, but he hasn't lost himself. Pierre felt like he was finding himself finally after all these years again. The Frenchman had felt as if Antoine had taken a part of him with him into a different world as he had died. So much pain and sorrow had been left for him and nobody cared enough to help him. His family did, they tried but even they gave up at some point.

His results were better, Helmut backed off completely which left Pierre to breathe again. He had forgotten how it felt when the Austrian bastard wasn't constantly sitting on his chest to demand something the shit box, they gave him wouldn't allow him to do. He was overperforming now. His results better than the car should be able to manage.

Which caused endless articles about him and his newfound talent. He hated them, always did. They had no right to speak about talent. If he wouldn't have talent, he wouldn't be here. He felt bad for Yuki. His teammate had no way to hold his pace, unable to do the same magic as him. He hoped they wouldn't hurt Yuki as they've hurt him. Secretly he hoped they would fire Yuki. He wanted him to leave Red Bull as undamaged as she could. An opportunity not many had once they had sold their soul to the devil. Pierre couldn't leave, they owned him, whole, completely.

He wondered if she would tell him to run. To quiet and live with the consequences if it only meant to be free. She seemed to be a person who would. The last words she said to him was to look after himself.

After the debrief over the qualifying he got the booklet from his bag as he sat in the solitude of his own driver's room. He wondered if she would ever write happiness. If something would ever leave her with so much joy that she had no other choice than to write it down. Pierre would love to read it. Would love to meet her.

I wished I would have turned to stone. I wanted to be granite, but my heart was soft. Beneath all these deprivations and the hard end shell was a soft barely pulsing thing. Scarred until it morphed into an indefinable mess of pulsing flesh. Fighting, crying, screaming. But who would peek up upon hearing it? Who would follow the trails until it found the wounded animal my heart is? Nobody would, because it's nobody's business. They all just came to whisper to be, not understanding what underneath the stone was happening. Happy birthday. It wasn't. It never was.

Letting his finger dance gentle over the hastily written words, Pierre had read them over and over again wondering what it was that fed her darkness, what had happened right before she could take it any longer and pulled out a pen to write down what was haunting her mind. Hastily, so she wasn't forgetting one single word. He wondered if her fingers were always fast enough. If she captured all of it and wrote it down or if something got lost, making her notes even more tragic.

Pierre felt the need to see her, to hug her but he felt also guilty. It was her darkness which put his own mind at ease. A woman so bright and beautiful with a black soul and a rotting heart. He wanted to rescue her. To help her save herself, even though she thinks she might have intended to do this very thing with him. Maybe it could work. They could start to heal each other once he had found her. He hoped it would be soon.

<><><>

I want my mum to wrap me in a blanket which will stop the world from hurting me. I'm scared of the future. Nothing good ever comes from being scared. I hate my life, there is no purpose. I'm not promising any longer. My potential was laid to rest in a coffin. I buried it. With my own hands, I threw dirt on it. Why should it come back to me after my motivation flew away like the birds in winter are gone? It's not coming back to wake up my potential this summer. Maybe next. It was procrastination at first, now I'm rotting flash on weakly bones sitting in a chair while my muscles melt away. Isn't it ugly?

Tell me what is better? To burn so hot, you burn out young or to not burn at all? I think I want to burn. Not like a witch but maybe like a bonfire. Catch fire like an orphanage in a tragic Christmas story. I wonder if you burn for something with your entire soul does the flame dare to touch your frozen heart? Maybe just nipping at it would be alright and it would finally beat again, but it doesn't. I'm a walking corpse without a soul, my heart is frozen in place.

Can you see its blue tissue sparkle behind my milky white bones? It's saying hello. But a greeting never echos back. No one ever touched my heart. The people who saw it are few but if they saw it, they stared at it. This abnormality, it stopped beating had turned to ice but I'm still walking.

How does it feel to stare at me as if I was a venomous animal locked away behind bars? Do you feel ashamed of looking? I bet you don't. They never do. Make your picture and move over, other people hadn't seen my Quasimodo heart yet. Touch the cage if you dare but let me tell you, you will regret it. They all regret it. It's a cage for a reason someone wrote that before but there is an additional question to it, no?

Is it a cage to keep something terrible out or something more wicked inside? I know the answer. Do you?

Looking up from the booklet, Pierre was surprised to see not only Pyry and Yuki but Max, Sergio and Charles. They looked at him with a strange look of worry and pity, causing Pierre to lower the booklet further.

"What is going on?" He asked unsure about how to read the situation, but he didn't have to wait for too long, Charles as always was fast to give him the answer to his question.

"You need to give us the book, Pierre." Charles started which caused Pierre to huff before he closed to book and sat up properly.

"You've been looking for a woman you've seen once, for almost four months now and all you do is read the things in this book. You withdraw from us totally, we worry about Pierre." The Monegasque added gently, but Pierre didn't want to hear it.

"What are you telling me, Charles?" He demanded to know, but Charles only gave him a painful smile. He wasn't one to be direct, he was the one to introduce you gently to a situation, if an unforgiving truth needed to be spoken, it was Max who would do it.

"You're hunting a ghost," Max said, causing Pierre to huff. They had no idea what she was or is to him. Yes, Pierre was how obsessed he was with her himself, but it was nothing unhealthy. He was intrigued by her writing because it was so unbelievable well written. He was able to put it down, whatever this was was unnecessary.

"These spells are spooking in your head," Yuki added, earning himself a strangle look from Pierre and Max, before the Dutchman exhaled slowly, pointing at the booklet in Pierre's hands.

"Just hand over the book and things will be okay soon again," Max said, which caused Pyry to move forward, his hand stretched out for Pierre to hand over the book, which caused the Frenchman to huff.

"You guys are crazy. It's just a book." Pierre exclaimed.

"Then you should be able to hand it over easily, no?" Checo spoke up for the first time and Pierre felt the need to hiss at the Mexican. If he wouldn't be it would be Pierre who would own the second Red Bull seat and now, he came here in his garage to lecture him about what? Owning a book? This was ridiculous.

Pierre looked up at Charles and Yuki's worried expressions. Max's hard but neutral as always, while there was a hint of a smirk on Sergio's face. He never liked that bastard. Swallowing slowly, Pierre's eyes landed on Pyry, who looked at him hopefully, earning himself an annoyed huff, before Pierre handed the booklet over.

"Have it if you want," Pierre said, causing Charles to exhale before moving to climb onto the couch next to Pierre to hug him tightly. Telling him how glad he was that he gave the book and the girl up. Looking at Charles, Pierre wasn't sure that's what he did, but he also didn't quite understand why the boys were so worried about him. Charles had a whole emu phase as he was younger and they let him be as well, so why wasn't he allowed to have his own Cinderella story?

Rolling his eyes, he hugged Charles back, before Yuki joined them. Max too cool for it of course while Pyry threw himself into the pile of human beings as well. The book was handed to Max for safekeeping. Pierre had watched as it happened and the Dutchman had coughed his glance but said nothing.

They let him be for a few days. The race week went on as usual, only for Pierre not to have the booklet, but he found it was alright. Nothing much changed. Only as he signed things for fans, his eyes always lingered in the hope to see her. She was never there.

The moment he regretted having friends was as Charles knocked on his door, yeah knocked instead of ringing the doorbell, demanding that they needed him to get laid and that Daniel and Max were already waiting for them, because the Monegasque had taken too long getting ready, earning himself a roll from Pierre's eyes, before he told him to give him a moment.

After a quick shower and changing into an outfit Charles had decided on later, he was standing by the bar in some club in Saint Tropez a beautiful blonde, the total model type was leaning against his chest while muttering things into his ear. He did enjoy himself, the touch of another person was nice, but the girl wasn't really interesting. She wasn't witty and neither was she funny. A beautiful face wasn't enough for him any longer, which is why he dumped her after she sucked on his neck for eternity.

"Where is your blondie?" Daniel called out as soon as Pierre came over to their table where the three drivers he had come here with were seated while getting drunk.

"Wasn't interested in her," Pierre replied with a shrug, before reaching over Charles and stealing his drink about what the Monegasque didn't complain about. He was glad to see that his friend went outside again.

"What did that chick do to get you so hooked? Nobody is that good in bed." Daniel said which caused Max to snort before taking a sip from his drink.

"We didn't sleep with each other," Pierre said not caring what the others thought of him while Daniel's mouth hung open, but no word was leaving him, causing Max to kick him before telling him to shut his mouth.

"Her thoughts are pretty deep, I like how ironically dark they are," Max said after a moment earning himself a look from Charles.

"What?" The Dutchman asked.

"You read the book that made Pierre depressed? It was handed to you for safekeeping." The Monegasque scolded him, his arms crossed over his chest while Max and Pierre spoke at the same time.

"It didn't make me depressed," Pierre complained.

"I kept it safe while reading it," Max noted.

"Okay, let's forget about the book for a moment, okay guys?" Daniel said, his hands raised as if he would have to intervene in a fight which might break out each moment, even though no one of his fellow drivers seemed to move anytime soon.

"What did she do? What was it?" Daniel asked wanting an answer as did Max and Charles, and an answer Pierre had. He had a very good and detailed answer but his poor drunk brain came up with only one thing to say, instead of explaining why it meant to him what it meant.

"She called me a manwhore." Pierre said while sitting down with a stupid grin on his face while his fellow driver couldn't stop laughing.

It was later that night, Pierre sitting in the still warm sand, watching a total drunk Daniel dance with a bottle of tequila in hand over the bonfire they had been sitting around, that Pierre had an idea. He was holding his phone, making pictures of Daniel as it struck him.

The press had no idea who she was, they tried to help but had no idea. The drivers who have briefly met her didn't know her name and the fans, who normally figure everything out in the blink of an eye are as clueless as he is. But she has no idea that he's looking for her right? She thinks that some F1 news fan account is looking for her. So, he needs to make her realise that it is him, who wants to know where she is. At least to give her the book back.

"Max." He muttered to gain the attention of the Dutchman, who was sitting next to him in the sand, his phone filming Daniel and Charles, who had joined him by now.

"I need the book back." He told the Dutchman, which caused him to give his French friend a warning glance. Charles would kill him if he did, but Max had never cared much for the Monegasque's feelings or opinions.

"Pierre." Max only said, his tone warning again, but the Frenchman was fast to shake his head.

"No, you don't understand." He pointed out. "She had no idea that I'm looking for her, but with the book, I think I have a way to let her know," Pierre explained, earning himself a huff from Max, who watched the determined look on his friend's face. Pierre was looking for her for nearly five months by now and Max knew that he wouldn't stop anytime soon, so why make it more difficult for him?

"No telling Charles that I handed it back, are we clear?" Max asked, causing Pierre to smile at him before throwing his arm over the Dutchman's shoulder and pulling him closer in a one-sided hug.

Pierre hoped his little idea would make her realise that he was looking for her. Only time would tell but for now, all he could do was lean back and watch his friends dancing on the beach around a bonfire. Their smiles were bright and their joy infectious. For the first time since he had met her in this parking lot, he felt content, as if nothing was missing because now he had a new hope to find, his plan too good to fail.