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fall0utmind · 2 days ago

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Medical Leak AU Ch6

Chapter 6 - Burn/ Mistake Below (4k)

Part 1 - 5 here

Here on AO3

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I'm still sick and my head hurts but i REALLY hope you guys enjoy this chapter of pure pain.

Thank you so much for all the love, I so so so appreciate it.

Let me know what you think!!

TW//// suicide - slight descriptions of suicide and dying (no actual death) - mentions of overdose and injury (all past)

The room holds its breath. Everyone is on high alert, their wide-eyed stares dancing between different group members, cataloguing every reaction. They are collectively choking on the escalating tension balancing on a razor’s edge, threatening to asphyxiate them all. Valentino studies the scene before him, blinking in confusion at the strange mix of people filling the small space. He raises his eyebrows at his boys, who shuffle awkwardly; Bez refuses to meet his eyes, staring steadfastly at the floor instead. Pecco and Luca do not share the same reservations, meeting his stare head-on. He is astonished to find unrestrained anger in Pecco’s eyes, and he questions what lies he has been fed to him by the surrounding men. He rips his gaze away, instead turning to assess the wider room.

Contrary to popular belief, Valentino is merely a person and, therefore, experiences very human emotions. Watching Marc fly off his bike, somersaulting in the air before slamming into the gravel, made his heart drop and his breath catch. When he didn’t make a move to get up, a decade’s worth of resentment and pain promptly disappeared as overwhelming fear choked him. However, the guilt that has been souring in his stomach since his run-in with Marquez earlieris beginning to evaporate, replaced by the scorching ragethat only Marc can illicit. Valentino observes how Marc has thrown himself on top of Dovizioso and Lorenzo, his teeth grinding in outrage. He cannot believe his insolence – to act like the world has done him some injustice; to fall into the arms of anyone who will offer; turning Valentino’s own riders against him. He seethes at the thought. How can Marc sit there acting so pleased when he has made Valentino feel this way? How dare he trick him like this? Alex is standing to the side, unnoticed, with his fists clenched by his sides, hot fury spilling over. Who the hell does Valentino think he is turning up here, after everything he has done?

Valentino glances at Marc again, pausing at what he observes. There is something odd about the way he is holding himself; his usual mask of cold indifference has fallen away, replaced by wide-eyed worry. Marc is coiled tight with tension and has been since he registered Valentino. His gaze is darting around the room, anxiety practically dripping off him. It makes no sense. He does not look pleased, or smug. He is not ready for a fight. Instead, he seems scared, defeated, and even drained, like he has nothing to give. Valentino deflates slightly at the lack of provocation he finds from the group, none of this makes sense.

Marc is still slouched on the couch and is visibly panicking now; his heart is thumping in his chest and his breathing has become laboured. The last person he wants to see after the craziness of this weekend is Valentino. He feels vulnerable and helpless, stripped bare in the face of his adversary and unprotected in his own safe space. Images conjured by his traitorous brain flood his mind: Valentino destroying his last remaining sanity; Marc losing everything he has left; and Marc's friends abandoning him when they discover how hopeless he is. He bites back the distressed whine trapped in his throat, desperately hoping no one notices the choked-off noise he makes instead, but 7 sets of eyes immediately dart towards him, the silence broken. He gulps on his fear, his body frozen despite his mind screaming for him to move. The attention of the whole room is directed at where he is staring like a rabbit in headlights, too scared to flee. In his periphery, he swears concern flashes across Valentino’s face, gone as soon as it came, before he speaks, uncharacteristic uncertainty colouring his voice.

“Marc, I-”

Jorge curtly cuts him off, unwilling to let Valentino land his first blow.

“Valentino, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Valentino looks him up and down, sitting at ease in Marc’s living room. The younger is still sprawled across him and Dovi, looking up with scared eyes. Molten-hot anger once more boils in Valentino’s stomach. He does not understand what elicits such a strong reaction; whether it is the presence of Lorenzo or the way Marc is all over the pair of retired riders. Although, why would he be angry about that? It is none of his business who Marc screws. He scoffs, his face contorting into harsh, livid lines. All his intentions for politeness are forgotten. But Jorge knows his old rival too well not to see what is going on, and he can’t allow that. He pushes Marc towards Dovi, letting him settle before he jumps up, starting towards Valentino and talking lowly so that only he can hear.

“Don’t you dare, he has every right to move on, you don’t give a shit about him. Don’t pretend you do. He’s wasted enough of his life over you when you went out of your way to ruin him”

Who said a little jealousy wasn’t good to make sure someone knew what they were missing? Valentino's jaw hits the floor, astonishment and fury pouring over him like gasoline to a fire.

“Move on? Move on from what? I don’t care what the hell the bastard does in his spare time, I just want him to leave my boys out of it. Get out of my way Lorenzo”

The heightened emotions leak into their voices, louder than intended, grabbing the interest of the others. Alex stands up, coming to stand next to Jorge. Marc’s face has shuttered at Valentino’s words. Luca and Pecco also make a start towards Vale but are halted by Jorge’s hand. Alex beat them all to it, swearing up a storm in Catalan.

“Vés a cagar a la via, puto desgraciat!”

Marc is staring at his brother with shock written across his face, he has never heard him sound so furious. Alex pays no mind, his wrath directed at Valentino.

“Puto imbècil de merda!”

Most of them have no idea what he is saying, but they can gather that isn’t exactly polite. Jorge looks torn between laughter and dismay. Alex collects himself enough to seethe once more in Valentino’s direction, in English this time, so he can understand.

“You bastard. You absolute bastard. How dare you turn up here and start acting so self-righteous. I hate you. You ruined everything. I almost lost him. We all almost lost him-”

Alex chokes on his next words, emotions overwhelming him. There are tears in his eyes which he furiously wipes at as he turns towards Jorge, gesturing for him to continue, before he slinks across the motorhome and through the door to the bedrooms. Valentino shakes himself from his stupor, astonished by the outburst.

“Is he always so dramatic-”

He never gets to finish that sentence as Jorge interrupts him, truly fed up with his nonchalance and refusal to see the truth.

“No, no, you listen here, you bastard. You didn’t have to watch him break down in your arms because of the things people have been saying. You didn’t have to watch him cling to the only people he had left for him because you took everyone else away. You left, walked out, left him broken, and let everyone else pick up the pieces of your mess. Fuck you, Valentino. Fuck you and your stupid denial and your ability to make your own problems everyone else’s.”

Vale stands silently, indignance rising inside him, rendered speechless by Jorge and Alex’s outbursts. He glances at Marc, who has masked his face into the perfect picture of media calm, only a slither of his previous panic shines through. His eyes look far away as if he is barely conscious of the chaos around him. He pushes the thought to the side.

“What the fuck? What did you just say? He lost me my tenth. We all know that I just told it as it was.”

He looks towards his academy boys, who all refuse to meet his eyes. It only makes him madder, a little hysterical at the idea that they too had been corrupted.

“No, we fucking don’t. Ask yourself Vale, what the hell would Marc gain from helping me over you? Why would he do that? He loved you, not me. You’ve clouded your own brain with lies and conspiracies and you’ve forgotten the truth. Marc did fuck all apart from trying to win.”

Marc reacts to that, grimacing from his seat, looking between Jorge and Valentino with barely concealed panic. Valentino gives him a side-eyed look and scoffs.

“Love? Yeah right, the only thing Marquez loves is his bike and winning. But maybe he wanted you more than me?”

“You’re kidding? Jesus Valentino, you’re so dense”

“Well, we all know he slept with half of the grid after Sepang, so it isn’t a giant leap.”

Alex growls at that; Valentino isn’t sure when he re-entered the room, but now he whips around towards Vale but is held back by Pecco. Jorge is panting now, seething with anger. Dani grabs his hands rubbing it comfortingly and pulls him back from Vale as Marc goes to stand, slightly wobbly on his feet.

“So that’s what you think of me huh? Do you think I’m some whore who won the championship for Jorge so I could sleep with him? Do you think I’m an attention seeker? A dangerous rider? That I’ve ruined this sport?”

Valentino watches him in silence, there is something off about Marc, something he can’t quite understand. Something lingers beneath the burning pride and resentment that he is so used to. His eyes are unfocused and a little lost; their usual warm brown has darkened, engulfed by his pupils and his anger. He somehow looks young, wide-eyed and naïve, despite the fury radiating off him. How he manages to look hurt, angry, and confused at once is baffling. It reminds Vale of that godforsaken photo that was taken at the press conference in Sepang, the one that has haunted him for a decade. When he first saw it, he laughed, but then it made him doubt everything. As the years have gone on and he’d solidified his stance on Marc, it still lingers.

“Did you know it was one of your fucking journalist pals that leaked my medical records? Were you part of that too? Did you take delight in all my pain, or was it just your fans? They never could let 2015 go, a little bit like you I suppose.”

Marc spits it out, venom burning his tongue. The room goes silent. Alex turns to him, just as shocked as the others.

“si, the team told me earlier, I couldn’t tell anyone yet, there’s no official confirmation, and frankly I didn’t want to face it. We’ve kept it quiet for your sake Valentino, but maybe we shouldn’t have. After all, you didn’t give a shit when they broke into my house and threatened my family. You didn’t give a shit when I almost died. Why would you care now? You always have had a sway with the media, no doubt they would find a way to spin this in your favour. A few choice words and all would be forgotten. Yes?”

Valentino looks like the floor has fallen out from underneath him. Pecco sits back down heavily as disbelief colours the air around them. The room drops a few degrees. Valentino’s face crumbles, the fight leaving him.

“You’re lying...”

Valentino doesn’t sound certain as the accusation falls past his lips. Marc simply laughs a harsh, cruel thing.

“Why would I lie about this? Let me guess, you think the rest of it is a lie too, huh? Did I make that up too?”

“Marc, I didn’t know”

Marc scoffs in response, rolling his eyes at his former hero.

“What didn’t you know Valentino? About the press digging up all my pain, your fans abusing me, or about how you left me back in 2015?”

Valentino stutters, grasping at the feeble trails of what used to be his truth - torn to shreds in the light of the motorhome.

“Go on Vale, say it, you didn’t know how bad it was? Didn’t know that I-“

“No stop, don't”

Valentino looks devastated now, eyes darting wildly around Marc’s face, looking for a hint of lies. He doesn’t find any. It makes sense then, what he found earlier, Marc looking out of it, clouded eyes, wobbling when he stood up. He’s spitting nothing but the truth because he’s clearly off his face on something. He shoots a desperate look at Alex, the younger meets his gaze but doesn’t react. Valentino starts to speak but pauses, unable to force the words out. Marc releases a bitter laugh.

“You can’t even say it. I had to live it, at 22. I was almost a CHILD. I LOST everything to you. I almost died. You took my heart with you when you left, and a knife in My back.”

Valentino chokes,

“Why didn’t you say?”

Marc laughs even harder, a manic edge to it.

“Of course, I didn’t fucking tell you. What was I meant to say? Hi Vale, I know you hate me and think I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you and the sport but I’m actually in hospital and I want to die. Just thought I’d let you know.

How about this? Valentino, I'm in love with you but actually, I've overdosed and in about ten minutes my brother will find me half-dead. But I thought you should know what you meant to me”

And God the aim was true on that one, Valentino gasps for air, clutching at any defence he can find.

“You were on track with a death wish? It’s not like I was wrong then”

The room startles at that, shocked by his cruelty. Luca puts his face in his hands, muttering obscenities under his breath in Italian as Pecco shoots daggers at his mentor. Dovi honest to God growls, prowling towards Valentino, but is stopped by Dani who is also glaring at the oldest Italian. Alex turns and punches the wall. Hard.

“Really? That’s what you’ve taken from this?”

Valentino seems to wake up to the room’s atmosphere then, realising the stupidity of his statement. He sensibly decides not to elaborate further on that point. Jorge begins to speak, hoping to put an end to the madness but Marc stops him. Now that he’s started laying it out, he can’t stop gutting himself in front of Valentino.

“Shocker but being suicidal doesn’t mean I tried to take myself or anyone else out in style on race day. Well, I certainly didn’t try to kill anyone else. I know you have convinced yourself that I am the devil, that I am dangerous. I can see that you will never change your mind. But you do not get to come here and pretend I have done something wrong by protecting the small amount of will to live I had left by avoiding you. Did you want me to call? In 2015? 2016? You would have loved to hear that you’d broken me. All I did was sleep and cry and be forced to eat when all I wanted to do was stop living. Do you think I should have messaged when I was riding through agony in 2020-2021? Maybe I should have asked you to take me back because I was in so much pain that I was abusing the medication. Do you like my humiliation? Is it some twisted game to you?”

It is then that the final piece of the puzzle falls into place. Valentino realises several truths at once.

Marc had been crying before he had entered and probably for quite some time considering his red-rimmed eyes, filled with hurt. It makes him wonder whether he allowed the others to watch him break apart; the thought makes a spike of resentment lance through him. Secondly, it is jealousy he has been experiencing all weekend, staring at the way Marc relaxes in front of Dovi and the other ex-riders. Valentino can’t pinpoint what he is jealous of, but it sits uncomfortably in his stomach, so he decides not to think about it. Thirdly, Marc hates vulnerability more than anything else; there’s no way he is enjoying this weekend, and he certainly didn’t cause it in a fit of attention-seeking. Valentino used to know him well, he doesn’t know how he overlooked that. For Marc, this must be torture, showing so much weakness to the world. He would be too proud to admit it, but he is hiding behind a wall of fake bravado even in his worst moments, scrambling desperately to hold his defences.

Valentino has seen the reports; the vivid descriptions of Marc’s pain make him wince. Some of them he couldn’t bring himself to read, too painful and gruesome to fathom. Marc’s history is printed out in black and white. He knows what they say, and now he realises with sickening clarity that they are all true. It makes him stumble slightly, horror dawning in his mind like the sun breaking the horizon, lighting up the truth with vivid clarity. He thinks about what he’s read, the graphic details of the overdose in 2015, where Alex had found him on the floor of their bathroom at home, slurring and on the brink of consciousness. All of it is written in stark medical terms, including the resuscitation. Marc had died on the table; it rocks him to the core. He rehashes the reports of Marc depressed and desolate after 2015, a chain he wore for many years to come. Reports of Marc on suicide watch and the subsequent concern of the doctors who cared for him. He feels sick when he imagines the aftermath of Jerez, the surgeries and the subsequent pain, the scribbled doctor’s notes talking about addiction and reliance. Words are thrown around like medical neglect, non-compliance, and risk to self and overdose. Tales of Marc riding through agony only to cram himself full of medication the rest of the time, just to numb the pain. It had all happened to him, to his Marc. And when had it become his Marc?

Vale feels as though he is free-falling off the edge of a building, without a parachute. He is struck again and again by the realisation of the truth of what he has done. He buckles under the weight of it, almost falling to his knees. Distantly, he sees his boys staring at him with a mix of confusion and horror. Valentino has fucked up. All those years, he turned a blind eye, chose to listen to his side of things, and ignored everything that told him otherwise. He’s going to be sick. He has lived in his own little world for too long and now it is as if someone has come along and burst his bubble; they have flicked on the lights. The truth does not portray him in a pretty light. The world outside his bubble is cruel and horrifying. He searches within himself but can no longer find any fury over Sepang, just guilt. He still believes Marx chose vengeance, he still thinks he can be dangerous, but can’t they all? It looks different now, it makes more sense and fits with the other perceptions of Marc. The stone-cold racer who will do anything to win. The suffering man who took solace in his bike. His Marc.

Valentino turns to Marc once more. Tears are shining in his eyes; he looks completely drained of life. Vale feels the same way.

“Marc, I didn’t know. I promise I didn’t know, Oh god, Cazzo. Marc, I had no idea. Cazzo. Cazzo.”

“Leave Valentino, just go.”

“No please, let me explain, I thought-”

“NO. GO! GET OUT. LEAVE. I DON’T WANT YOU HERE AGAIN. PLEASE, JUST GO.”

Marc loses his composure, screaming at Valentino. His voice cracks as the tears begin to spill over. He wipes furiously at his eyes, gazing at Valentino one last time before he looks away. As he turns, he says one last thing,

“You had your chance. Don’t come back”

Alex steps forward then, pushing Valentino to the door, with some delight. Luca, Bez, and Pecco trail after them awkwardly, Luca puts his hand on Marc's shoulder as he passes, apologising quietly. Pecco pulls him into a tight hug, surprising the older man. As he escorts them outside, Alex turns to Valentino, his tone is crystal clear but simmering with fury, delivering a killing blow.

“Maybe you should spend some time thinking about what it would be like to hold your brother in your arms, minutes away from death. I found him you know. I called for help, I took him to the hospital, and I watched the life fade out of him. No matter how many years go by, I’ll never, ever, forget holding him, thinking it would be his last breath, weeping over him. Nothing will ever be worse.

You’re the reason my brother lost everything, make it right or fuck off and don’t come back.”

The younger Italians look devastated as Alex turns to leave, barely sparing them a glance. Alex slams the door behind him. Vale is breathing heavily as he spins around and meets three disappointed stares. Pecco just shakes his head, turns on his heel and leaves. Bez surprises the older man as he offers Valentino a sad look.

“You’re a fucking idiot”

Luca’s reaction hurts the most, his younger brother levelling him with a disappointed glare and some harsh words.

“You need to fix it. You fucked up. Badly. Work it out, Vale.”

Vale watches Luca’s back disappear into the darkness, despair threatening to swallow him home. Vale stands there alone, outside Marc’s motorhome, for some time. It feels like time is suspended, the echoes of past mistakes haunting him. He really has screwed up, and he has no idea how to fix it.

#motogp #rosquez #marc marquez #motogp rpf #my fics #medical leak au #please yap in my asks guys #dovquez #jorge lorenzo #andrea dovizioso #dani pedrosa #pedrenzo #ahhh guys #this took so long #my head hurts

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