#mar to herself; omg girl just get good and stay on the bike

[graveltrapping]

Debutant | imortal

Female Marc Marquez

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Her first win of the season and Mar feels like she could live forever.

The day starts warm, sun high and golden, with the softest wisps of white cloud drifting lazily across the endless blue of the Austin sky. Its warms. The breeze, the sun, the ground beneath her feet. Everything heats her skin and makes it glow, her hair shine like ebony strips of silk. She feels rested. Content, for some reason, even as nerves bubble in her stomach and twist her gut. It’s a familiar feeling that she had learned to live with, that parasitic nervousness that came from experiencing something completely new. Pole position wasn’t new to her, she had taken it many times through 125cc and Moto2. She was more than comfortable sitting at the top of the pack. 

Pole position in a MotoGP race however?  

That was certainly new.

The 1000cc bikes were a whole new beast. Bigger, the engine vibrations bone rattling, and weighing nearly triple her body weight they felt like a mustang whenever she mounted it. Chomping at the bit to be let loose. Strong, demanding, fast. 

So fucking fast.

She felt like she was flying whenever she took off, front wheel threatening to lift, arms wanting to stretch out like wings and catch the breeze so she could go soaring towards that blue Texan sky. Join the eagles and vultures and songbirds that circled overhead. She knew she couldn’t, feet firmly rooted to the throttle, but she had always dreamed of flying when she was young.

She would say her pole lap has been the closest she’s ever come.

Blistering and blinding, she had been as fast and as aggressive as a falcon when she set her time. Pulling seconds and meters from thin air, cutting through corners and roaring down the straights like she was in some cavalry charge. Her bike had kicked and reeled like a wild stallion, but she had reined it in tight and rode like she always did and was rewarded with her first pole position of 2013.

That pole was quick to turn into a win.

She had lost positions in the first lap to Dani and Bradl, sweeping too wide into the corner and all but inviting them through, and then instantly had Lorenzo on her tail. He had been close, clawing the space between them down to nothing but Mar had done what she does best and threw any reservations to the wind. Bradl had been easy. Her and her bike, indistinguishable from each other the moment the engine had purred to life, had flew past him on the straight and dropped him into Jorge’s waiting jaws while she set her sights on Dani. He was a ways ahead, curled down into the frame of the bike, but she could see the slopes of his shoulders and set of his back every time she closed in on the breaking. Could almost reach out to touch him. She imagined that she saw his breathing, how his ribs expanded and contracted, the pull of his muscle as he moved the bike like an artist would their brush. She had always liked Dani. Had a crushed on him even, as Alex constantly reminded her, and she held him in a similar regard that she did Rossi.

It didn’t stop her from taking him though.

In the end she danced around Dani, sweeping down the inside to force him wide then slipping ahead to take the tighter line on the next curve and effectively shutting off any chance of him fighting back. It was fast and clean, no more aggressive than usual, but she could still feel the heat of his stare piercing through her leathers the moment her front wheel pulled in front of his. It was electrifying. She could feel the blood in her veins begin to bubble like lava, feel the sweat trickle down each dip and curve of her spine, could feel the purr of the engine trapped between her thighs. She revelled in the vibrations as they travelled down her legs and upper back, settling in her chest like the thumping of her heart. 

Corner after corner, lap after lap, she stole seconds from Dani until she was crossing the line more than two seconds ahead of him.

She shook in her seat, throwing her head from side to side like an overexcited dog, screaming with joy insider her helmet. It made her ears ring but she dint care. She bounced in the seat for a giddy moment as her own giggles bounced around her head before standing as tall as she could and stretching her arms towards the sky. Golden sunlight shone off of her leathers, twisting around her fingers like silken ribbons, before she collapsed back into the seat with a huff of exhaustion and pure exhilaration.

She had won.

She had won.

Dani was beside her a second later, hand reaching out to grasp her own briefly and give it a firm squeeze that she gave back just as tight, fighting the urge to intertwine their fingers and pull him closer. 

She couldn’t really resist that urge with Valentino.

He had come up behind her as she was taking in the sights of the grand stand, crowds drowned in her vibrant red and supporting colourful banners all branded with a big and bold 93. His hand had landed on her hip, squeezing just a small bit, before he held that same hand out for her. She shifted the grasp on her bike messily, fingers fumbling in their excitement, before raising her arm high and slapping her hand down against his. For a second the hold they had on each other slipped, but Mar squeezed her fingers tight around his palm and tugged him just a small but closer. Rossi went easily with her pull, knees just barely brushing, before pulling his hand back to tip an imaginary hat to her in a way that had Mar creasing against the bike in giggles. The touch had sent a jolt of adrenaline through her nerves and had her up celebrating once more, exhaustion forgotten. 

Effortlessly, she pulled the beast of a bike into a wheelie and roared down the straight.

The party only continued in parc ferme.

She was nearly dragged of her bike by the two men securing it, all three of them laughing and grasping at each other as they squished together in a tight hug, before she was freed from their arms to slip off the bike and almost crash backwards into Dani who patted her helmet gently and smiled at her through his open visor. She patted his arm just as gently before sprint as fast as she could towards the barriers where her team stood packed tight.

Trusting they’d catch her, Mar launched herself across the barriers and into the sea of white and orange that rose and swelled around her. Hands, all familiar, grasped at her legs and hips as they hoisted higher and nearly over their heads. They slapped her back and patted her helmet, someone pushing open her visor so she could really see the smiles and laughter all directed towards her, so she could see the absolute joy in the faces of the people supporting her.

When her feet finally touched the ground, Santis joy only satiated by lifting her and roughing her up a bit in retaliation for all the stress she caused him, a familiar face appeared in the crowd.

“Papa!” She cried out. 

Julia Marquez beamed as his daughter crashed into his arms, her smiling face freed from the helmet and those beautiful curls bouncing freely as he hauled her as close as possible, both laughing and beaming as the held each other. That smile seemed to only widen as Alex appeared from the crowd, hands grasping her own and smile just as blinding. Mar was older, had an intensity to her that Alex didn’t and couldn’t even pretend to have, but she folded into him easily with a gentleness she afforded no one else.

Even if she was drowned in champagne moments from now, Mar felt like she could do this forever.

Her first crash of the season and it nearly kills her.

She had been flying, moulded to the bike as she sailed down the straight, before something under her had clicked. It had lifted her in the seat slightly, rear lifting up and arms limp for a second before snapping into position and going rigid as she tried to wrench the bike into a turn. The suspensions screamed at her. She screamed at herself. The engine roared as the speed she carried seemed to double.

The wall she was heading towards grew bigger.

Again and again she wrenched the handles ,but the Honda continued to careen towards the cement barriers dead set on collision. Over 300 kilometres per hour, it drew nearer with every blink. 

She could see each letter of the advertisement speed by.

She could feel how her bike jumped, speeding from the track onto the grass.

She could see the moment the colourful banners disappeared to reveal cold and grey cement.

Mar jumped.

Well over 209mph, the young woman (girl, really) threw herself from the Honda into the grass as her bike ran for the wall. Simultaneously, they crashed. The bike crumpled and rebounded against the wall, scraping down the barrier until it finally hits the gravel and screeches to an abrupt sop. Mar follows not far behind. Air-bound for a second before she hits the grass and goes tumbling. The momentum carries her far, skipping like a rock over a lake, until she slides into the gravel and takes basically the same path as her bike did. She stops almost right beside it, both battered and matching.

She tried to get up a second later.

Like a wounded dog, she crawled in a direction she didn’t recognise as drool filled her mouth. She was panting, could feel her own breath warming her helmet, as the world around her pulsated in a way that had her stomach quivering. Eyes unless, everything spinning, she felt out the world with her hands. The gravel was sharp. Cold. Shifting under touch and leaving her stranded and lost.Her panting increased, ribs tightening. 

Hands were suddenly on her. Mar jerked in their hold, skin burning, but the hands cradled her and held her steady. Adrenaline burned through her and left her skin blistering, insides knotted and hot, she crawled almost away from the white blur that reached for her. More surrounded her like a mob, clean and sterile and blindingly bright. An animal sound escaped from her as the marshal finally got a steady hold on her and eased her back down. She fought it a little, unwilling to just stop.

Without really thinking, Mar reached for her bike.

A hand pressed to her chest when she tried to lift her torso up to watch as someone leveraged up her bike, a flare of vicious possessiveness igniting under her ribs, but it spluttered out when the stretcher she was suddenly on was lifted and the world pulsated in front of her aching eyes. She lost time after that, seconds slipping away from her, mind reeling and skulls seeming shrinking around her brain. Every face before her eyes swam, moving grotesquely, shifting into shapes she couldn’t really make out.  She recognised the inside of an ambulance at least.

She certainly recognised the inside of a hospital.

She recognised the burning chemical smell that permeated every corner of there room. She recognised the bone deep ache of a crash. She recognised the face hovering by her bedside.

“Papa” Mar croaked.

Julia Marquez smiled at his girl, still so little, and pushed a messy curl out of her face. He let his hand linger there, cradling her cheek as his eyes tracked over the only visible signs of her crash. A swollen chin covered in a purple mottling that warped and tugged at her face a bit, corner of her mouth discoloured with a chunk missing from under her chin. It would scar. Mar wouldn’t mind. She’d take it as a victory, a sign that her body was as teflon as her mindset. Win or nothing, a scar won’t make any difference to that. As much as he wished it did, a scar would change nothing. 

He swallowed heavily, eyes stinging, and gave his daughter a strained smile. 

Those clever brown eyes watched his face like a hawk. Tracked the click of his throat, how his breath caught, how he tried to hide the tiny tremor in his hand.

“Sore?” He hummed gently, stroking over her unblemished cheek. Mar leaned into the touch and nodded, lashes brushing her cheeks with each lethargic blink.

“I’ll get a nurse” He smiled he stood before wagging a playfully admonishing finger at his girl who already had a conspiring glint in her eye “Don’t. Move”

Mar turned her head to watch her father leave the room and in turn met the gaze of her brother.

He smiled at her, a little wobbly, a shuffled the white plastic chair he was in a bit closer so he could lean his torso against the gurney she was on. Both of them winced at the screech of the legs on the linoleum floors. Mar flinched further when the movement tugged at the scabs on her chin, hand flitting up to hover around the skin that felt ridged and bumpy and slightly hot with pumping blood. Alex’s eyes followed her hand.

“At least you can’t get any uglier” Alex joked weakly and Mar laughed, chin and jaw aching, before tears suddenly gathered in her eyes. She tried to push them down but her giggles broke into rough hiccups that shook the drops loose from her lashes and sent them down her cheeks. The mottled skin on her jaw stung when the salt met it.

Alex’s own face crumbled before he folded himself to her, face pressed to her belly and hands tangled together. She could feel his tears wet the hospital gown and turn it tacky against her skin.

“Sorry” He whisper. Mar only ran her fingers through his hair and held him closer.

She wasn’t scared that she had crashed, she was a notorious for it at this point, but the guilt of seeing her family crumble always had a pit opening in her stomach like nothing else did. She wouldn’t change. Racing was who she was, racing the way she did was a part of her. She couldn’t afford to drive sly and subtly like Dani did, couldn’t afford to be as surgically pressies as Rossi or even as patient as Lorenzo with his tightly wound aggression. It was move or be moved. Ride like her or simply get out of the way. Her family knew that, they had to live with it for almost 20 years at this point.

It still hurt seeing them scared for her, feeling what she couldn’t really feel for herself. 

Improvement was the only option.