#just a man; a tyre trolley; and a dream

[racingliners]

Brawn GP Team Principle Ross Brawn pitches in during the red flag period at the Malaysian Grand Prix - Sunday 5th April 2009

[lu-undy]

Chapter 3 - SBT

Here is Chapter 3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338966/chapters/64243387

Here it is for those who like to read here:

The airport was as busy as an anthill, even in the evening. Lucien put his hat back on his head after passing security and headed for the gates for his flight. 

People looked at him with strange eyes when they saw him take out a blade. The airport staff stopped him for it of course but after he showed them a letter, they let him through… 

Lucien sat down on one of those back-breaking metallic chairs and waited. The Frenchman could be patient, but not when waiting for a flight. He liked travelling for the new places and new faces he would see, but he hated the journey itself.

He didn't have to wait too long anyway. He soon embarked and found his seat, in business class of course. Lucien sat back and fastened his seatbelt. 

After the usual safety speech, the reactors roared loudly as the plane took off for a part of the world the old man didn't know yet: Australia. 

The flight would be extremely long and tiring so he relaxed and kept himself busy with his thoughts. 

First, the mission. 

For years now the French intelligence services had been tracking a dealer of some sort. Well, of some sort. It was one of those who dealt so many different things that it was hard to find any illegal object or substance that didn't pass through their hands. American-made weapons, Russian ones, military grade armament, all the drugs one could think of and countless other goods…

Lucien looked around him. As it was mostly a night flight, the lights in the plane were kept to a minimum. The Frenchman took a file out of his briefcase before switching on the small individual light above his head and reading.

Obviously his target had a massive network spanning all across the world and without Interpol's help, the European police, France would never have heard from him again. The Australian intelligence services had greatly helped too. They knew, like all the police forces in the world, that the target was French and as such, whoever found it should let France deal with it the way she saw fit. 

Lucien turned the page and looked at the other passengers around him.

As soon as France came to know that the man they have been looking for was in Australia, they called back an old agent, who had quitted years ago. He was an old myth, still walking the Earth somehow. He had managed to avoid death so far, that was the miracle. How many lives had he taken? How many hostages taken? How many of them freed? How many missions accomplished and how many bullets evaded? 

Ha… Was it even possible to keep count? 

For more than twenty years he had been in that business, and he had retired for quite a long time now. The Minister had called on the phone and sent letters, begging relentlessly and personally at that, for him to come back. 

Revenez comme instructeur ou agent, choisissez vos missions. Notre pays a besoin d'hommes exceptionnels comme vous. 

[Come back as an instructor or an agent, choose your missions. Our country needs exceptional men like you.]

Lucien looked through the small round window. He could see the full moon shining and making the clouds look like a glowing cotton mattress below the infinite dark blanket of the sky.

He sighed.

Lucien had burnt all the letters from the Ministry and stopped answering the phone. In his spacious parisian flat, he was taking the days after the others. After all, he was but a piece of dust on the blue tiptop whirling around the sun, in that sad empty universe. 

His eyes fell back on the file. 

He was to find the man and deal with him the way he saw fit. That was his instructions from the Minister and Lucien understood what it meant. But for the time being, he had to fly.

The Frenchman turned the page and read. 

It was a list of contacts. Names, addresses, positions. He scanned it quickly and some names he did recognise from his days in America. It seemed the positions were the same but the names had moved across the world. Good for him. It would make business easier. 

"Refreshment?" 

The steward broke Lucien's train of thought. 

"Oui, please, some tea would be perfect." 

The man in the uniform nodded and poured the tea in a cup before putting it on the Frenchman's table. 

"Anything else?" 

"May I smoke in this flight?"

"I'm afraid not, Sir."

Lucien rolled his eyes. 

"In that case, would you have any lollipops?" 

The steward frowned and blinked repeatedly. 

"I'm sorry, Sir?" 

"Would you have any lollipops?" Lucien repeated. 

"Y-yes, for children…"

"Well, consider me an old one."

"Sure…"

The steward gave the Frenchman what he wanted.

"Many thanks."

The younger man nodded out of politeness and pushed his trolley forward, leaving the Frenchman to dive back in his thoughts.

The roar of the plane's reactors was deafening but coupled with the vibrations and the heat of the tea, it dulled Lucien's senses and he leaned his head back on his seat. 

He put the file back in his briefcase before laying back again and closing his eyes. He would look at the rest of the mission file later. Now was time to get a bit of rest. 

"Lucien?" 

"Oui?" 

"D'you need anythin' darling? I'm out shopping."

"Non, nothing mon amour."

[My love.]

"You sure?"

"Oh, maybe one thing."

The lady in the blue dress and matching headband looked at him. 

"Come back fast for me." He added and she smiled. 

"I'll do my best."

She came close to him and left a quick peck on his cheek. But Lucien wanted more, he wanted to show her that she meant more than just a common trifle. He grabbed her arm as she passed by him and pulled her in for a long kiss. 

He loved her so much. 

He loved her so much.

He saw her grab her purse and leave the house. Lucien walked to the window and stared at her, walking to the supermarket. Her dress was cut to half her thigh, she was wearing black high heels and a black belt around her thin waist. Her hair was almost falling on her shoulders and he kept staring, pushing the curtains away from the tip of his fingers. 

The Frenchman half-closed his eyes, his shoulders sinking under the sweet view of the woman his heart was beating for. He loved her and she had called him darling… She loved him too. 

Suddenly a black car stopped and she stepped in it. Lucien frowned and watched closely. The car started fast, the tyres squealed and it drove off. Non, there was no way, he wouldn't let her go! He ran out of the house and after the car. His breath was loud, his heart woke up and pumped hard to give him the strength he needed. 

He was now in a car, driving as fast as he possibly could to catch up with that black vehicle. He couldn't let it escape, no, God only knew how hard it had been for him, to find her, to tell her the truth and to protect them as a couple, like the bud from which he hoped a family would grow.

He shouted her name. And he felt it. His tongue moving in his mouth, his lips forming the one name that he had so long stopped to utter, may it be during the day in a sweet whisper, or in the sheets, where that name rhymed with his most primal satisfaction…

Lucien failed to catch up with her and the black car raced away. He switched gears, pushed his foot harder on the gas pedal, but to no avail. His car soon stopped and he got out of it. His knees couldn't carry him and he fell on all four on the scorching asphalt. His tears landed on it and evaporated . 

"Mon Dieu!"

Lucien woke up. He was still in the plane and his heart was pumping fast. He could feel the sweat down his spine. Cold sweat. 

Un cauchemar.

[A nightmare.]

He rubbed his eyes and took his file again. Lucien needed anything to wash his brain from the inside and sweep that bad dream away. The Frenchman grumbled. He wished he could smoke. 

La sucette. 

[The lollipop.]

He unwrapped it and put it in his mouth. 

"Eugh… Fraise…"

[Eugh… Strawberry…]

He hated that flavour, it was way too sweet but he didn't have anything else to put in his mouth or crush between his teeth. So he just did with it and somehow the strong sweetness wasn't much of a problem. He might have needed it, who knows? 

He turned the page after the list of contacts. There were suggestions on how to approach his target. His eyes quickly scanned them. The wanted man liked his coffee from one specific shop so he could get hired by them and work something out from that. 

Lucien scoffed. Work in a coffee shop? Him? Seriously? He hated having to follow orders, which is why he liked the freedom of his job. Working in that coffee shop no doubt meant having strict working hours, spending days there, not progressing much to maybe, maybe have a chance to meet with a point of contact linked to his target. Because of course, the man himself wouldn't get his own coffee, he would surely send someone to get it for him.

Second lead was the golf club. His target apparently could be found on the greens very frequently. He enjoyed it as a way to empty his mind and maybe meet with some prospecting clients?

Non. Lucien thought it wouldn't work. If he joined the golf club, he would have to invent a story for his background and his arrival in Australia. Chances are that his target might run backgrounds checks on him and if his story didn't hold, they would no doubt suspect something. By suspect something, they usually meant capturing and torturing. So non, no golf club. 

Lucien turned the page and went on.

"Ah…"

That possibility could work. The man apparently enjoyed having dinners in a very fancy restaurant in town. If Lucien read the file correctly, it was the most expensive place in the city! They served incredibly costly food, but not only did they do that, they also entertained their customers with musical shows. 

The Frenchman smiled and let his tongue play with the lollipop in his mouth. 

Oui, musical shows, concerts, the world of the stage, that's something he could do very easily! He knew how to dance and sing to a very reasonable level. He could also sing in multiple different languages and styles. That sounded perfect. He just needed to be hired. It wouldn't be so hard, he had ideas and experience on how to do so.

Ah, so that would be his angle and that would get him one step closer to his target!

Lucien smiled proudly.

"Breakfast, Sir?" The air hostess broke his train of thought. 

"Oui, please." 

She put the tray in front of him and stared at him. He removed the lollipop from his mouth and she blushed. 

"Tea or coffee?" 

"Coffee, s'il vous plaît."

[If you please]

She poured some in a cup and put it on his tray. 

"Is there anything else you would like, Sir?" 

Lucien looked at his tray. There were a few toasts, butter and jam, a croissant and a glass of orange juice.

"May I ask you a favour, Mademoiselle?"

[Miss]

"Of course."

"May I have a few more lollipops?" 

"Someone has a sweet tooth…" She reached in her trolley to get them. 

"With a view such as the one you are offering me, who can blame me?" 

The stewardess blushed. 

"Which flavour? I have strawberry, mint, coke and lemon." 

"Lemon or mint, please. The others are too sweet for a man of my age."

"Don't like it sweet, huh?" She answered. 

"It depends on the context, Mademoiselle."

 She chuckled and gave him a few. She bent to him and whispered. 

"If you need more, just press the button and ask for me." 

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. His eyes shot to her badge. 

"I will, Mademoiselle Marie." 

Lucien winked at her and she giggled. Mary pushed her trolley to the next passenger and left the Frenchman to enjoy his food. 

He liked that despite his old age, he managed to still have his effect on the ladies. Nothing compared to the flutters of the heart that he used to feel with that woman. But it was enough to make him feel barely alive. 

Lucien had always been that way since he had grown enough to have his way with girls. He learnt quickly that Mother Nature had been most kind with him. She had endowed him with features that most would call attractive. All he had to do was add a bit of charm, which his upbringing had instilled in him without him realising it. The result was a man that very few ladies could resist, and by very few one should understand none. 

He finished his breakfast and wiped the corners of his mouth elegantly with a napkin. Mary came back a bit later to remove his tray. 

"How was it, Sir?"

"Delicious, but only half as good as the sight of you, ma jolie." 

[My beauty]

Mary blushed again and rolled the tray further, the Frenchman chuckled and as he unwrapped another lollipop and put it in his mouth, he kept staring at her. 

More than those few interactions Lucien could not even hope for. He had grown attached to a woman once and that had turned catastrophic for him. He was old and had hurt enough to know better. 

He looked through the window. The sun was rising above the clouds and the sky changed from dark to light almost instantly, drowning the infinity of the air with its warm beams. Lucien put his sunglasses on and kept on watching the soft clouds. It all seemed so peaceful. The rumble of the plane's engine, the warmth of the sun and the lollipop that he played with on his tongue. 

He smiled. That mission wouldn't break his curse but at least there were some enjoyable sides to it.

[daisy-chain-gardens]

94 💙💙 Congrats, my dear friend! 😘

Here you go Morgan, I hope you like it! This one is a bit different and I’m not sure where it came from but I like it. Thank you so much for all of your support xx

94. I had a bad dream again.

Jughead woke up with a start, the clock beside the bed reading 2:38. He lay back down with a groan and closed his eyes, rolling onto his side and expecting to find a certain blonde sleeping next to him. He reached out to wrap his arms around her but was only met with empty sheets. He opened his eyes again and looked around the room, still seeing no sight of her. Begrudgingly, Jughead slipped from the warm sheets and pulled on the socks he always kept by his bed.

After emerging from their room he found Betty sitting against the window. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and she had a colourful mug in her hands, her once-hot tea getting cooler as the seconds crawled by. Her gaze was locked on the street below as she watched people with a certain kind of fascination only she possessed; almost as if she was trying to read their whole story in the matter of seconds they remained in her line of vision, like she wanted to know everything about them.

“Everything okay Betts?” Jughead asked softly, just enough to break her from her thoughts but not enough to startle her. He sat down on the other end of the window sill and followed her gaze, watching an old man wandering the streets with a wilting bouquet of flowers tucked carefully under his arm.

“I had a bad dream again,” she stated simply, not wanting to discuss it any further.

“The same one?” She nodded before he’d even finished his question, her eyes still focused on the pavement but now it was just to avoid his. He stood up and swept her into his arms, her hands moving up to their usual spot behind his neck as she continued to avoid his gaze, deciding her knee was far more interesting.

“Betts, you need to come back to bed okay? I need you to get some sleep.” Jughead was firm but gentle at the same time, the caring lilt in his voice revealing his worry.

“I’ll be okay Jug, I just … I just want to watch the city for a little bit longer,” she said quietly, the words falling from her lips as her mind kept her elsewhere, kept her in that place the dreams came from. Jughead stayed quiet as carried her over to the worn armchair they’d found at the second hand store on the corner. He sat down carefully and helped her get comfy on his lap, his fingers running through her hair as they both looked out the window again, this time focused on the office building across the street that never seemed to sleep, an electric energy seeping out of the large windows.

“You know we’re gonna have to talk about this soon,” Jughead mumbled into the air as someone dressed in a suit started banging on a printer, the screams that tumbled from his lungs getting lost somewhere in the space between.

“I know,” she mumbled back as she watched one of the cleaning ladies empty a bin full of paper into her trolley, pulling a clean bag out of thin air and using it to line the wire bucket. “This moment just needs to be this moment for a bit longer. I don’t want to taint it by talking about things that don’t need to be said.”

The printer finally starting working again as the suit started dancing around the empty room he was in, the harsh lighting mixed with the sound of car horns and screeching tyres building the disjointed movie it almost felt like they were watching; their own free source of entertainment.

“Do you ever wonder if people look at us?” Betty asked quietly, her voice muffled by Jughead’s arm.

“All the time.” The cleaning lady had now moved onto the next office, repeating her simple task with the same bored look on her face.

“Do you ever wonder what they see?” Betty continued as he gaze shifted to the apartment building beside the offices, the changing colours of a TV screen lighting up someone’s face as they munched on a snack in the dark, gaze transfixed on the changing images.

“All the time,” Jughead repeated as he looked up to the 12th floor where a woman in a smart dress had her head in her hands, her elbows resting on her knees as she visibly shook.

The questions stopped flowing as Betty’s thoughts were moved onto those she was watching, imagining the stories behind the pain and boredom and routine she observed. The last thing she remembered seeing before the lids of her eyes forced her brain to be quiet was that old man wandering in the opposite direction, his flowers replaced with a bottle of some amber liquid that he was consuming with no restraint, downing large amounts at a time as he stumbled and laughed at the top of his lungs.

This time it was Jughead having the bad dream.