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Chapter Text

“What the fuck went so wrong?” Max’s face was beet red as he shouted, leaning back against the now bolted shut front entrance to the bank. “How were they here so quickly?” 

Charles wanted to shout back, wanted to scream something awful, but he couldn’t get anything to come out of his mouth. Nothing that would have been heard over the blaring alarms. He took a moment to catch his breath, and adjusted George’s arm around his shoulder, the British man just about holding himself upright still. 

“I’m going to kill Seb.” Continued Max. “What sort of a genius is he if he can’t account for the fucking police being right outside?” 

Gun still in his right hand, the dutch man peered out through the cracks of the barred window. He ran his fingers through his hair, evidently stressed. Flashing white blue and white illuminated his forehead intermittently, and whatever he was looking at didn’t change his gloomy expression.

“It is okay.” Charles muttered, unsure if it was to Max, George or himself. “We’ll be okay. We still have the plan.” 

“Fuck the plan.” He kicked the door with some force, but seemed to calm afterwards. He took a deep breath in then let out a sigh. 

“My god.” 

“They’re setting up a perimeter.” Max glared at Charles, who had no response. He could only send an apologetic look in the Dutch man’s direction like it was somehow his fault the Police had shown up.

“Doesn’t matter.” George spoke up for the first time, resting his cheek on Charles’ shoulder. His voice was incredibly quiet, needing effort to hear it over the sound of sirens. “Not our way out.”

“It’s not going to help though is it, having the cops peering in through the window?” It seemed that Max was in the mood to argue. 

George chose to ignore that, instead looking down at his stomach. “I think I'm bleeding.”

“You’re alright mate.” Charles wasn't sure that he got any comfort across in his voice, unsure that he even believed what he said. 

He had to stop himself from spiraling. The police might have gotten there earlier than they had expected, but they had been training for this heist for months now. He had scouted the bank out so many times that he knew the place like the back of his hand. And, as long as they were inside and the rest of the guys had completed their part of the plan, they wouldn’t be harmed. No one was breaking the doors down yet. 

“The main foyer.” Charles spoke through deep exhales. “We were meant to meet there ten minutes ago.” 

Max tucked his pistol into the waistband of his trousers. “Can you walk, George?” 

George, still leaning heavily on Charles and being uncharacteristically quiet, nodded. He had a hand clutched to his side where the white of his shirt was slowly becoming a crimson red, but he was at least mostly still with it, despite the colour that had drained from his face.

“Good, because I’m not carrying you.” 

Despite the words that came out of his mouth, there was worry in Max’s voice. He took off his black suit jacket and wrapped it tight around the younger man’s waist, George groaning and hiding his face in Charles’ neck as he did. 

“He needs a doctor.”

Making direct eye contact, Max frowned. Charles knew he agreed. “This will do for now.” He hooked his arm under George’s other shoulder and the two of them lifted him up as best as they could. “Come on, before we miss any more of the fun.”

The walk was not long, distance wise. Despite being the national bank, it was still relatively small, perfectly sized to fit in the city centre, and most of the money was kept underground. It took them longer than it should have to walk through the marbled hallway. George was fighting unconsciousness the entire time, legs barely helping to support himself. Not much more helpful was Max, who was evidently seething, muttering under his breath about how he had suggested bullet proof vests. 

Charles had to kick the heavy door of the main foyer open. It was an impressive room, high ceilings with a staircase spiraling over the reception desk leading to a grand balcony. More importantly there were no windows, just a large chandelier that bathed the room in an artificial white light. 

In the centre of the room was their collection of hostages, a fair few of them Charles recognised from their planning. They were all sat on the floor in a vague circle, around thirty people, considerably calmer than he had expected them to be. There were a few criers, which was expected, and a good lot of anxious looks towards Daniel and Pierre who were circling the group, guns in hand.

The group's leader, Seb, was standing on the reception desk, addressing the crowd. Although he had missed most of the speech, Charles knew its content by heart. Explaining that they wouldn’t be hurt. That they would be looked after as long as they kept out of trouble. Seb didn’t want anyone to get hurt, he had made that very clear at the beginning.

Next to Seb, sat down on the desk with sunglasses on and looking particularly more suave in the matching suit than anybody else, was Fernando. The Spaniard had his pistol in his lap, but seemed unfazed by the whole thing. He probably was, the man was an old hand in the heist business. Charles was almost certain he could see a smile on his face. A smile that faded once the trio pushed into the room. 

He lifted his sunglasses, and looked up at Sebastian. “That is not good.” 

Seb, villagant as ever, jumped down from the table and ran over. “What happened? Is he okay?” 

“What happened is that the Police were right outside before we’d had a chance to secure anything.” Max was on the verge of shouting again. “What sort of plan is this Vettel? You nearly got all three of us killed.” 

“Shit.” He cupped George’s chin in his hands and lifted his face upwards, inspecting it. George looked back blearily. “They can’t have known. Nobody could have known. Come here, Schatz” 

Manoeuvring around slightly awkwardly, Seb managed to swap places with Max, taking the brunt of the weight. “We’ll take him to the office, there’s a first aid kit there. Go help Yuki with the alarm, before he breaks something.” 

Max nodded, despite the frown that still painted his face, and began to head up the stairs. 

“You should stay here too.” Seb spoke, addressing Charles now. “I need someone to keep things calm whilst I help George. I’ll send Carlos too.”

He perhaps had a point. How much Fernando, Daniel and Pierre could be trusted to not to fuck around with the hostages he wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t sure that he was going to keep his lunch down if he had to look at the bullet wound. 

“We keep going with the plan. He’ll be okay.” 

Charles had to trust him. He had done since the beginning. Besides, it’s not like he had another way out of the bank without catching a bullet or a jail sentence. It would all be worth it for the money. 

With some grumbling, George was peeled off his shoulder and practically carried by Seb out of the foyer. Charles tried his best to not look at the blood that was staining his shirt now, glad that they had at least chosen black suits so the worst of it didn’t show up. 

He couldn’t think about it. He had to get back to work.

Fernando, who had taken up Seb’s place on the front desk, threw him a pillow case and notepad. Charles picked them up and gripped them tightly in palms that he hadn’t realised had gotten so sweaty. 

“Names and phones.” Fernando explained from his stage. “Write your name and give my friend here your phone. Try anything stupid and you will regret it. Trust me.”

As Charles made his way from hostage to hostage, he had to hide the anxiety that was building in his stomach. There was a sinking feeling that this was all going wrong.

Chapter Text

Lando did not know how he always seemed to end up in these situations. This time it wasn’t even his fault, which was unusual because he would be the first one to admit that a lot of the trouble he got into was due to his own wrongdoing.

There he was, all for his new stupid job that he didn’t want to do anyway, with his hands zip-tied together and forced to sit on the floor with a bunch of scared looking people. 

Admittedly his security uniform wasn’t helping. He presumed that was why he was one of the few people who had had their hands tied, and all his pockets had been swiftly emptied by the tall Australian one as soon as he had been found.

First week on the job and he had already been caught up in a bank heist. Typical.

Two of the thieves were circling them like sharks. The tall Australian and a shorter guy who had only spoken in jokes and had a thick french accent. There was another man on the table, an older guy with a deeply unsettling look on his face and had seemingly taken charge once their leader had disappeared with the lanky bleeding guy. The only other member of their crew in the room was a short sad looking man who Lando could have sworn was shaking slightly, he looked deeply uncomfortable with the whole thing. 

They probably wouldn’t be too hard to overpower, but they had many weapons and there were definitely more of them than had been put on hostage duty. Not worth the risk. And Lando hadn’t even been given his gun yet, having failed the licensing exam, so there was very little he could offer. 

Then there were the people around him. He recognised one of them, the reception guy, Oscar. He seemed practically unfazed, picking at his nails ignoring everyone else. The rest of the small group he was sat with comprised of a Chinese guy in expensive looking clothes, a man with an impressive moustache and bleach blonde mullet, a slightly older guy with dark curls and a bewildered expression and a very anxious looking young man who Lando could have sworn he recognised.

Not the dream team he could have wished for. 

“First heist for you guys too?” He asked the group, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

It was seemingly not appreciated. Other than Oscar, who didn’t look up, he received scowles from everybody else. 

“Do not be stupid.” Blonde-mullet man whispered with a deathly serious gaze. His accent was foreign, but Lando had never been good at geography. “They have guns.” 

“I’m Lando.” He smiled. Nobody smiled back, or gave him their names. 

“Did that guy get shot?” Whispered the anxious dark-haired man, his eyes never leaving the two armed men who were watching them. “We need to get out of here.” 

“And what’s your big plan, Lance?” So Oscar knew his name. “We just wait this out. They’ll take their money and go.”

“That’s easy enough for you to say.” The young man spat. “It’s not like you’ve got any investment in this.” 

This outburst seemed to draw the attention of the assailants, the Australian guy walking over towards them with a disconcerting smile on his face, eyes widening with an almost crazed expression. 

“Did we say you could speak, daddy’s boy?” He traced the barrel of his gun over Lance’s jaw line.

“Daniel.” One of the others, the guy who Lando had thought looked like he was about to cry, spoke up. “We do not want to scare him.” 

Daniel laughed, and ruffled a hand through Lance’s hair. Lance grimaced as he did. “I’m not going to hurt you. And don’t tell me how to do my job, Charles.” 

“Should we not gag them or something?” Asked the French guy who was standing at the other side of the hallway, spinning his gun from palm to palm. 

“Pierre, you know this is not part of the plan.” The older man on the table was incredibly relaxed as he spoke to his crew. “Behave yourselves please boys, we will have work to do.” 

Daniel sighed, and thankfully stepped away. Lando hadn’t even realised that he was holding his breath. It wasn’t that he was scared, but perhaps the situation was more nerve wracking than he was telling himself it was. 

Next to him Lance was bouncing his knee up and down, it was making a clicking sound against the marble floor, rhythmic like a heartbeat. 

The older-looking guy was the one to break the silence, whispering quiet enough to go undetected. “My name is Checo. I need to get back, my children, I left them in the car.” 

The blonde man spoke up before Lando had a chance to, but he echoed what he was thinking. “Your children will be safer with you alive. The police will find them now, but this is not our chance to escape.” Maybe he was ex-army or a police officer or something. He spoke with such knowledge of the situation, and was certainly the calmest of their small group. “I am Valtteri. It is a pleasure to meet you all, even in these circumstances.” 

“Zhou.” The Chinese guy nodded. “I wasn’t even meant to be here. My assistant had the day off.”

“Lucky assistant.” Muttered Oscar, again not looking up from the floor. 

Lance perked up a little. “You’re that model. From the perfume advert.” 

Zhou smiled, cheeks reddening a little as he did. Although he didn’t spend a lot of his time looking at perfume adverts, when Lando thought about it there was some recognition of the man’s face.

“You two work here.” Changing the subject, Valtteri directed his question to Oscar and Lando. “Any idea what their plan is?” 

“I don’t know man, I’m just the receptionist.” 

“It’s my first week. And I’m a little tied up right now.” He gestured to the zip ties around his wrists.

The blonde man hummed disappointedly, asking no further questions. His eyes were scanning the room, although Lando couldn’t work out what he was looking at.

As Pierre stepped closer to them, the group once again fell back into silence. Even Lando forced himself to keep quiet, watching the french gunman as he slowly strided by. The emergency alarm was still belting, and he was half tempted to let the bandits know that he knew how to shut it down, but decided it was not sensible. If he had to live with sitting on the cold floor, the gunmen would have to live with the alarm. 

Nothing seemed to happen for a short while, sitting in silence whilst his backside slowly became more and more numb. It was difficult to say how much time had passed, but the alarm was eventually stopped, leaving behind a ringing feeling in Lando’s head, but a relief nonetheless. 

The double doors at the top of the balcony opened, and through walked another two suited men. Max, the angry blonde guy that had been sent away previously, and a short japanese guy that Lando hadn’t seen before. They slowly made their way down the stairs, joining their group. 

Shortly after they were joined by yet another man. Wearing the matching suit, the uniform they all seemed to wear. This man was tan, dark eyes and thick hair that he ran his hands through as he strode over to the main desk.

Next to Lando, Oscar sighed. “This dickhead.” 

“Who is he?” The Brit whispered in response.

“He’s been coming here for weeks. He said he was a Spanish prince. It all checked out.” 

Lando didn’t know much about background checks, but he could see how the man could get away with pretending to be a prince. 

“Fernando!” He exclaimed as he climbed up onto the front desk, a distinct roll when he spoke his ‘r’s. “What is going on? Seb says we are behind schedule.”

Fernando scoffed. “Barely. How is George?”

“He will live.” 

“Good. All is well here, we have it under control. Has Vettel sorted the phone?”

The Spanish Prince nodded. “Nothing from the Police yet. I’m surprised, it seems we’ve caused some trouble.” 

Max laughed cynically. “Maybe because they knew we were coming.” 

Gesturing for the man to come closer, Fernando shook his head. “You worry too much Maxxy.” He stroked his check with the back of his index finger, Max frowning as he did. “Do you not have a vault to get us into, little genius?” 

Max grunted, pulling away from the older man. 

“You don’t have to trust me Max, just do your job.”

“Fine.” He shot his gaze to the other side of the room. “Come, Charles. I can’t get past the security without George, I’ll need your help.” 

“See, that wasn’t too hard.” Fernando laughed as Max stormed off with Charles in tow. It was deeply unsettling, and sent a shiver down Lando’s spine. “Did you get the truck in, Yuki?”

The short guy nodded. “Mostly. It’s safe at least.”

“Well done. Go with Pierre and bring everything inside. I’ll check with Seb. Carlos, keep charge of this until I am back.” 

The Spanish Prince- Carlos- smiled as he took a seat on the edge of the desk. It was almost as if he was looking directly at Lando whilst the bandits slowly dissipated, leaving just the two of them to watch over the hostages. 

“I think they will kill each other before they kill us.” Valtteri whispered, watching Fernando as he strode up the curved staircase. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Muttered Oscar. Lando followed his gaze across the room to where Carlos was sat. They made eye contact briefly before Lando quickly looked away, but he could have sworn in that one moment that he caught the Spaniard winking. 

“Don’t worry guys.” He explained, although not quite believing it himself. “We’ll be okay.” 

Chapter Text

Lewis Hamilton strode into the white tent outside the bank with his head held high. He pulled the straps of his bullet proof vest tight so it hugged his ribs, used to the weight of it after many years of service. 

It had always impressed him how quickly a base of operations could be set up at the scene of the crime. Computers and desks had already been rolled in, and he could see views of the bank from every direction in newly set up cameras around the perimeter. 

The call for him to come and lead the case hadn’t been a surprise. Afterall, he was the best negotiator in the country.

As he walked in he was met with knowing smiles from various officers, some he recognised and other he didn’t. He knew they all knew of him though. The tent was busy, loud with radio messages and pointed discussions. A phone was ringing somewhere in the background, and the lights of the screens were flashing between pictures. 

Lewis cleared his throat, and everyone went silent. 

“Lewis.” The recently promoted Alex Albon stepped forward and shook his hand, pulling him forward slightly towards the main screen. The Thai man was taller than Lewis remembered him being when they had worked together, but the kind dark eyes were the same. “Thanks for coming.”

“Nice to see you again, Alex. How’s the new job?” 

“Not paying as well as it should.” He laughed. The newly formed organised crime department had been somewhat of a laughing stock amongst the commissioners when it was introduced, but by all accounts Alex had been leading it well. “Should be worth it though, we’ve been working on this gang for a while. This is Logan.” He gestured to the lost-looking man who was standing awkwardly behind him. 

“Hi.” A distinctly American accent. He held out a hand, which Lewis politely shook. 

“He’s shadowing me, learning the ropes.” 

“Great to have you on the team, Logan.” Lewis took his shoulder bag off and threw it under the desk, peering down at the documents that were already scattered around. Nothing seemingly too important. He then turned to address the room. “Alright. If you don’t need to be here, can you please wait outside. And if someone can brief me as soon as you’re ready.” 

The tent cleared so there were very few people left, the atmosphere much calmer than it had been before. Lewis let out a deep sigh and sat down in one of the high backed chairs, leaning backwards to get comfortable. 

“Here.” He was handed a pile of papers by Ocon, the tall french man well prepared for once. “I will give you the rundown if you like?”

“Go for it Esteban.”

“Thirty two hostages, looks like they took them into the main hall before they cut the cameras off. We’re working on getting access to that.” He explained, bringing a map up on the computer screen. “No fatalities as far as we’re aware but we were involved in a gunfight with three of the assailants this morning. All three escaped back into the building.” 

“Good start.” Lewis hummed, flicking through the papers in his lap. “Any important hostages?”

“A couple, Zhou Guanyu, he’s an international model.”

“Yeah, I know of him.” Lewis nodded. 

“We’re not sure if the heist crew are aware of who he is yet. The other is Lance Stroll-“

“Lawrence Stoll’s son?”

“The very one. We think this one is planned.” Esteban frowned. “Mr Stroll has been on the phone, he wants to speak to you.” 

“Tell him I will as soon as I get the chance.” He then turned to Alex, who was perching on the edge of one of the tables. “I assume you know the assailants?”

Alex nodded, scrolling with the mouse and spinning the computer screen round so they could see. He pointed to a figure in a cctv image. “Sebastian Vettel. Climate activist and self proclaimed genius, he’s leading the group. It’s been planned for about three months according to our inside informant.” 

“The rest of his group?” 

“Some you already know of. Fernando Alonso, I think you know him well?” A mug shot of Alonso was brought up onto the screen.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “He’s out of jail?” 

“Talked his way out of the sentence. Again. He seems to be acting as Vettel's number two.” Alex flicked through some more images. “Most of the group are known criminals. Yuki Tsunoda, blew up a gas station a few years back. Daniel Ricciardo, arrested in 2018 for armed robbery. Pierre Gasly, he’s their munitions expert, built his own machine gun and used it to hijack a police station.”

Esteban grumbled at the other side of Lewis. “I remember that little fucker.” 

“Carlos Sainz.” Alex pointed back at the screen. “Con artist, smooth talker. Charles Leclerc, cat burglar, robbed the museum a few years back, we were never able to catch him. Max Verstappen, lockpick- another self proclaimed genius, he’s very good by all accounts. And George Russell, he’s their tech guy, prolific hacker.” 

“Sounds like quite the eclectic mix.” 

“Absolutely. And sir-“ Lewis still wasn’t quite used to Alex calling him sir, “I need to speak to you about something else when you get a chance. In private, please.” 

Lewis nodded. “I’ll catch up with you later. For now, let’s make sure the perimeter is secure, they’ve got no way out unless it’s through us. Someone sort me out a line to Vettel, let’s see what he wants this time.” 

“Sir.” It was Logan speaking up this time. He was impressed with the rookie's confidence. “There was some media guy outside who wanted to speak to you.” 

“You’re kidding? How is the media in on this already?”

Logan shrugged awkwardly. “He was very insistent.” 

“Fine.” He patted his thigh and pulled himself to standing. “I’ll get them to leave. Get the phone to Vettel ready for when I’m back.” 

Building himself up for a fight, Lewis weaved his way out of the tent to the taped police line. The crowd hadn’t built up too much yet, he had definitely seen worse. There was a small group of people, members of the public and presumably family and friends of those inside judging by the tears. Lewis had long since grown numb to people crying. 

It took him a hot moment to find the reporter in question, but when he did any anger he felt dissipated. White blond hair and blue eyes that Lewis would have recognised anywhere. 

“What are you doing here?” He grabbed Nico by the wrist and pulled him under the police tape, ignoring the other questions from the crowd.

Nico allowed himself to be pulled through, a smile on his face. “It’s my job, isn’t it? Better me than whatever local new station would get here first.”

“You can’t be here.” Lewis pulled the journalist along with him so they were out of sight of anyone else. “Firstly it’s not safe, and secondly you’re not authorised to be.”

“What, so I can’t visit you at work?”

Lewis sighed. “Nico, it’s only been a couple of months, please.” 

He didn’t even know if he would count it as dating yet. It certainly hadn’t been long enough to warrant this. He hadn’t even told anyone at work yet. 

Nico laughed. “I thought insider information was one of the perks. And it might do you good to let off some steam, you seem tense.” 

“This is making me tense.” 

“Come on, you know I would never kiss and tell.” He leaned his face forward so their faces were almost touching. 

For a moment Lewis was tempted, but he kept himself professional, pushing a hand on Nico’s chest. “Stop. I’ll never live this down if Alex sees. What about dinner, later? We can talk through everything then.”

Nico huffed, a frown forming on his face briefly but a brightness still in his eyes. “Just don’t be talking to anyone else. You can’t trust the media companies these days.” 

Reaching down, Lewis took Nico’s hand into his own. “Don’t worry. Everything will be exclusively for you.” 

Smiling, Nico squeezed his hand. It felt comforting. 

“Now go, before I have to have you removed.” 

Nico saluted sarcastically as he stepped back. “Yes sir, whatever you say sir.”

Lewis watched him leave with a smile, the blonde man ducking underneath the barrier and nodding his head in his direction before disappearing into the ever-growing crowd. He had to take a moment to slow his heart rate before he made his way back into the headquarters, grabbing a cup of water on the way. 

His seat was still empty when he got back. Alex was sat chewing nervously on the end of a pen whilst Logan was pinning pictures up on a large cork board. Esteban gestured to the phone as he spotted his boss, with a thumbs up to indicate they were ready. 

“Thanks.” He placed his water down on the desk, and moved so he was in reach of the phone.

“Everything okay with the journalist?” Asked Alex, genuinely curious as he always was.

“Fine. Just people getting too pushy, the usual.” Dismissing the question, he turned back to Ocon. “Just press zero?” 

“Should put you straight through to him. We’ve got it set up to record.” 

He took a deep breath, lifted the phone up to his ear and pressed zero. The phone rang six times before anybody picked up.

“Hello?” A calm voice answered, with a thick German accent. “Can I help you?” 

“I’ll assume this is Mr Vettel I’m speaking to?” Lewis asked, although he had no doubt he recognised the voice.

“Ah. Hello Lewis. I was waiting for your call.” There was a chuckle on the other side of the line. “When did we last speak? I think it was the town hall, 2020. How did that go for you?” 

He was taunting, and Lewis knew it. He had dealt with Sebastian enough times to know his tricks, although the man did so often seem to have the upper hand, and as skilled as Lewis knew he was he had to admit he was one of his more difficult foes. 

“We’re not here to talk about that, as I’m sure you’re aware.” 

“No, I’m sure we’re not. So how can I help you, Mr Hamilton?” 

Lewis picked up the biro next to him and spun it round in his fingers absentmindedly. “You have a lot of hostages, Seb. I need to know they’re safe, and I need to know what you want for them.” 

“They’re all fine. I’m not going to hurt anyone if I don’t need to. I can send you proof if you wish.” 

“Yes please.” He sighed. “Seb, just tell me what you need, I’ll get it.” 

“I assure you my men have everything under control. If I need anything from you, I will ask.” 

“Seb-“ 

A long high pitch beep interrupted him as the line cut off. Chucking the headset so it clattered down on the desk, Lewis leant down with his face in his palms.

“Motherfucker.” 

Chapter Text

Breaking into the vault of the largest bank in the country was no easy feat, and one that Charles had very little idea how to do. It had not been the plan for him to help with the vault, and he had not trained to do it. His little knowledge came from how Max and George would individually complain about each other to him after they had been made to practice the vault again and again and again. 

Max was a master locksmith. He could get into anywhere, solve any puzzle, break any code. This vault in particular was tricky, with electronic security systems that made physically entering the room nearly impossible, even with the door open. That was going to be George’s job, the only person who could dismantle the system safely. Unfortunately, George was very much out of action, probably for the rest of the heist. 

Somehow the task of assisting Max had now fallen to Charles. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to use any computers. 

“Take this.” Max handed him an unidentifiable piece of metal, the dutch man crouched on the floor by a small hole in the fall, fiddling with something. 

Charles picked it up and inspected it. “What is it?” 

“Doesn’t matter, just don’t drop it.” He didn’t look up from his work. 

“What do I do?” 

“Just wait.” Max hummed and pulled a wire out of the wall. “I have a job for you.” 

“Do you think we’ll be alright?” Shuffling from foot to foot Charles tried to not let the worry come across in his voice, but it was difficult. He was glad he was just with Max.

“I don’t know. I don’t think we have any choice but to trust Seb and keep going.” 

“Right.”

“Go to the keypad on the vault.” 

Charles did as he was told, standing on the tips of his toes to reach the pad. 

“Great. Now pull.” 

He looked down at the lock pick. “What? Do I not need to put numbers in?” 

“Change in plan. Pull the front panel off, it should be easy.” 

Max wasn’t wrong, it took very little force to pull the paneling off, wires and other electronics falling out with it. Charles threw them to the floor, letting them clatter down. It left a hole, about the size of a small air vent that lead into the darkness.

“Think you can fit?” Max laughed.

Charles looked down at him with a puzzled look. “In there? Is it safe?”

“I’m not sure. You’ll either be able to open the emergency release from the inside, or be crushed alive. I’m fifty-fifty on it.” 

“You go then.”

“There’s no way I can climb it. I’ve mostly got control over the system, you don’t need to worry.” He shrugged, not at all concerned by what could be Charles’ imminent death.

“I am worrying! I don’t want to be crushed to death in a bank vault!” 

Holding up a small screen, Max pointed to a line of numbers. Charles had to squint to see it. “Unless you can solve this, it’s our only option. Go on, I’ll give you a leg up.” 

Charles sighed, gave Max one last exasperated look, and placed both hands into the tunnel. It wasn’t like they had many other options, and he did really want the money in the vault. He didn’t really need Max’s help to climb in, but he took it anyway, using his thigh to catapult the rest of his body upwards.

“Is there no light you can turn on?” He asked as he shuffled forwards, dragging himself along on his stomach. 

“Yep. Sorry.” He could just about still hear Max, although his voice was very muffled. There was a slight pause and then a light flickered at the end of the tunnel. 

At least he could see. It didn’t make the task any easier. He could fit through the gap, albeit with some difficulty, having to kick some wires off his foot. The constant internal monologue reminding him he was about to get crushed certainly wasn’t helping. 

“I’ve not been killed yet.” Charles shouted back to Max.

“I know. I’m stopping it from squishing you.” 

Charles sped up his crawl. “Please keep doing that.” 

“Let me know before you reach the end. I think the whole thing will engulf in fire if you touch the floor.” 

“You think?” 

“You only stole so many plans for this thing, I don’t know what else it’s capable of.” Something clattered on the outside of the vault. “There, you should be good to go now.” 

Charles stuck his head out of the tunnel and looked round in the light. His first thought was thank God there was no fire, and he was still mostly alive. His second thought was holy shit they’re going to be rich. The vault was huge, and was filled with not only piles of paper money but expensive looking artifacts and artworks.

He pulled his knees up as far as he could, gripped onto the edge of the ledge and flipped himself round before dropping to the vault floor. Landing softly on his tiptoes he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. He grabbed the first thing in reach- a stack of notes from the massive pile in the centre of the vault. Rifling through it there must have been over two thousand Euros in that stack alone. They were going to be millionaires. 

“Holy shit.” He whispered to himself before repeating louder. “Holy shit!” 

“Hey!” Max’s shouting was quiet outside the vault. “Are you going to let me in at any point?” 

He had almost forgotten. The emergency release was by the side of the vault door, a long lever that was almost by the ceiling. Pulling it took some strength, but he managed it, the mechanism inside the metal door clicking as he did. There was more sounds as Max pulled the door open from the other side, it creaking as he got it open wide enough to slip though. 

“You’re not dead then.” The dutch man’s head poked through the gap in the doorway, looking directly at Charles, then eyes widening as he noticed the spoils behind him. “God.” 

“We are going to be so rich!” Charles grabbed Max by both wrists and pulled him into the vault. He grabbed a stack of notes and threw them at his friend, letting them rain down on him. 

Laughing, Max grabbed another pile and threw them with some force in Charles’ direction. Charles yelped, jumping out of the way and falling backwards into the pile of bank notes. He joined in with the maniacal laughter as he laid back and rested his head with a sigh.

“This was all worth it.” Max laid down next to Charles on top of the money, staring directly at him with a wide smile. “The things we can do with this.”  He took Charles by his shoulders and shook him vigorously, still beaming as he did.

Charles didn’t even realise that Max was kissing him until after it happened. 

Then Max continued blabbering on about how rich they were going to be as if that hadn’t just happened, shouting as he buried them both in money. It was difficult for Charles to listen to what he was saying as he concentrated on how hot his cheeks were feeling, how his mouth had slowly dropped open and he was hanging as he watched his friend.

It was probably just excitement getting the better of the dutch man, an emotion that was rarely seen on him. Not that Charles had even hated it, it had just caught him off guard, and finished before it had barely started. 

“Are you okay?” Max asked, realising that he had stopped celebrating.

“No. Yes. I’m fine, it is just a lot.” 

“Come here.” Standing up, Max held out a hand and pulled Charles to his feet. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have gotten in here without you.” 

They were so close together that Charles could feel the warmth of Max’s breath. It was almost too close. 

He didn’t want to, but he took a step back. Don’t get involved with each other. Don’t jeopardize the heist. Seb’s words from the first briefing echoed in his head. 

“We should be heading back. Time to start the next phase of the plan.” 

Nodding, Max pushed the vault door open wider with his shoulder and squeezed his way out, curving his wide shoulders.

With one last look down at his new-found riches, Charles took in a deep breath and composed himself, brushing down his suit jacket. His life had been more than turned upside down. It was somersaulting. 

Chapter Text

Sebastian scrubbed the blood out of his fingernails in the sink of the bank's bathrooms. It was not a pleasant task. He hated blood. There was enough of it to stain the water red, a whirlpool of it disappearing into the porcelain of the sink. 

Had everything gone to plan, there wouldn’t have been any blood at all. They were not there to hurt anybody, a statement which had taken some convincing for certain members of the crew. He hadn’t meant for George to get hurt, nor could he get his head around how the police had been there quick enough to shoot at them. They should have had more than enough time to get the front of the bank bolted up without threat. 

The young man was thankfully fine, or as fine as he could be with the bullet still lodged in his side. Seb had managed to pack it so the bleeding had stopped, and left him in the office to get some rest. It was a setback, yes, but not a game-ending one. 

The phone call with Lewis had gone well too. He had hoped it would be Hamilton leading the case- the two of them had a good history, and Seb was sure he knew how to get the upper hand. It didn’t seem like the Police had much to go on, and he was planning on keeping it that way. 

Somebody cleared their throat behind him, causing Seb to look up from his hands and escape from his thoughts, back into the real world. 

“The vault is open.” Fernando stood in the doorway, leaning against the marble framework. “Thought you would want to know, you’ve been gone for a while.” 

“Thank you, Nando.” He flicked his hands dry on the edge of the sink and twisted the tap off, the last remnants of pink water disappearing down the plug hole. 

“And we did as you said, sent a photo of each hostage. It took forever.”

“It needed to be done.” Sebastian ambled over and placed a hand on his second-in-command’s shoulder. “We have to keep them safe. And we have to keep the people on our side.” 

“I do not see why we cannot rough them up a little bit. Some of them are very irritating.” 

“Because that is not what we’re here for. Come, you will get your money out of this, you must let me get what I need too.” Smiling, he patted Fernando’s shoulder once more then walked past him out of the bathroom. 

Out of the bathroom and into the hallway, Sebastian walked with his head held high, he had an image to keep, afterall. He was vaguely aware of his number two following behind him. Fernando had been a tough choice to bring with them, he was incredibly good but Seb couldn’t quite bring himself to trust him. It was better when he knew where he was and had control over what he was doing. 

The hostages were still collected on the floor of the main hall. They had formed off into smaller groups and were talking quietly amongst themselves. He didn’t mind that, he wasn’t going to try and silence them. It was already an uncomfortable enough situation for them. 

“Daniel.” He addressed the Australian man who was leaning against one of the pillars, rifle tucked under one arm. “Everything okay?” 

“All good.” Daniel smiled wide, showing off his teeth. “We’re having fun.” 

“May I borrow our special boy?” 

Nodding, Daniel gestured outwards with his arm. “Go ahead.” 

Seb smiled and weaved his way through hostages, careful to not step on any fingers. The man he was looking for had joined a group of six on the far side of the hall. He was watching them with wide eyes as a curly haired security guard was chatting away, louder than anyone else in the room. 

“Sorry to interrupt.” Standing over the group, he tried to seem as non-intimidating as he could. The security guard stopped talking instantly. “I was wondering if I could have a word.” 

“A word about what?” One of the hostages, a blonde guy who was inexplicably wearing shorts asked. “You are leading this thing, why are you keeping us here?” 

“You are here to keep us safe, Mr-?” 

“Valtteri.” 

“It is a pleasure to have you here, Valtteri. And your friends also.” He turned now to Lance. “Please, a word in private, Master Stroll.” 

The young man looked up at him, mouth dropping open but no words coming out. 

“Do not worry, please. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

The security guard was the next to speak up. Lando, his name badge read. A silly name, but somewhat suited him. “He doesn’t have to go if he doesn’t want to.”

Seb tilted his head from side to side. “He does not. But I believe we have a common interest. Come.”

He held a hand down to Lance, who took it gingerly and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. 

“Are you hungry? There is a small kitchen, although I’m sure you already know that.” Leading Lance along, he looked over his shoulder to speak to him. The man followed him like a puppy, the same scared look on his face. Seb really wasn’t going to do anything bad to him, quite the opposite, but he was struggling to get that vibe across. 

“I’m fine.” 

Holding the door open, he allowed Lance to step through first before joining him, shutting out the noise from the corridor. “Sit down. I’ll get you some water.” 

Lance took a seat on one of the chairs, an uncomfortable plastic looking thing that Seb had to feel a little bit sorry for the bank staff about. He sat there gingerly, staring down at his hands, even when Seb slid a glass of water across to him and sat down on the opposite side of the table. 

“What do you want? My dad won’t pay more money than you’ll get from the bank.” 

Seb shook his head. “My friends might be here for money. I am not. Do you know who I am?” 

“I don’t really keep up with the news.” Lance admitted. “Have you done this before?” 

“Sort of. I’m here to kick up a storm.” He smiled. “You are a big part of my plan. But I want you to agree to it.” 

Looking up from his hands, Lance had a bewildered expression on his face. “I don’t know how I can help you?” 

Hesitating for a moment, Seb reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He clicked a few times on the screen and opened up a photo. It showed Lawrence Stroll, shaking hands with a man in a suit. “Your father, I believe.” 

Lance nodded. “His new business partner. He’s been around the house a lot, my dad’s expanding outside of banking.”

“And what do you think about it?” 

He paused. “It’s fine. I support my dad.” 

Seb swiped through his phone and opened up another picture, showing Lance standing with a group of people around his age, smiling in front of a patch of rainforest.

“What do you really think?” 

Frowning, Lance tried to grab the phone. “Where did you get that photo?”

“You got to travel the world with your father, and he will get rid of the whole thing just to make more money. These kids? This forest? All gone to make way for his new oil tycoon friends.” He looked Lance directly in the eyes. “And where does that leave you? Abandoned to look after a bank for the rest of your life?”

Lance took a deep breath, but didn’t speak.

“I know you don’t want this. But you could expose it all.”

“My dad will kill me.”

Seb shrugged. “I’ve taken over his bank, he’s going to be cross regardless.” 

“I can’t-“

“Think on it. I’m not going to force you to do anything. But I think we have more in common than you believe, and I think you’re a better man than your father.” 

He had anticipated that Lance would take some convincing. The plan could work without his cooperation, of course, he had considered that. But speaking to Lance and watching the expressions on his face change, he couldn’t help but think that the man might crack. 

“Let me know. We’ll be here a while.” Standing up, Seb brushed his thighs down and looked down at Lance. “I’ll take you back to your friends.” 

There was always more for Seb to sort. After dropping Lance off with the rest of the hostages he was met with the newly returned Max and Charles, who had finally made their way back up from the vault. Max was explaining something vividly with large hand movements to Fernando, who didn’t look to be listening. Charles stood a little more sheepishly off to the side.

Maybe things were taking their toll on the young Monegasque man. He looked shaken in a way Seb had never seen him before. 

“The kids have done well, Seb.” Fernando called, looking over his shoulder at him.

“So I heard. Thank you, Max, Charles. We would not be doing this without you all.” Max smiled at him. Charles did not. 

“Onto the next step now, no?” Asked Fernando, grinning wildly.

“I believe so. Get Pierre and Yuki to meet us at the vault. It’s going to be a long evening.” He looked to Charles, still a little concerned about the young man. “Charles, a word.” 

Pulling him to the side, he made sure he was out of earshot of the rest of the group. Seb wasn’t about to risk any more wellbeing of his men, whether it be physical or mental. “Is everything okay?” 

“I’m fine.” It wasn’t the most convincing. 

“Go check on George for me. Take half an hour or so, we’ll manage.” He wrapped an arm around his waist and gripped him tightly. “This stuff can be a lot.” 

“Yeah.” Charles nodded. “I know.” 

Something was definitely going on, but Seb was unable to put a finger on it. Some rest would hopefully do him some good. He waited until he had disappeared in the direction of the office, then followed the others in the direction of the vault. 

Seeing the money did very little for him. Fernando was staring with eyes wide, Max looked stoically proud, and Pierre and Yuki, once they had made their way down, were jumping up and down like excited toddlers. For Sebastian, the money was just a means to an end. But he needed it to keep everything running smoothly. And he needed his boys happy so they could get out of the bank. 

“Gentlemen.” He started once the group was all together. They all silenced and looked to him. It was a nice feeling, being in control, 

“It is time for the real work to begin.”

Chapter Text

As time went on, the floor became more and more uncomfortable. It was warm enough that they didn’t need blankets, but some cushions wouldn’t have gone amiss. Lando’s backside was starting to hurt, and no matter which position he shifted into he could not get comfortable. 

The lack of windows was also disorientating. It could have been night already, having been about midday when the group had first entered the bank. He would have no way to know, they’d taken his phone off him. It was probably the longest Lando had ever gone without checking his phone. 

Additionally, as if to make matters worse, he really needed the toilet. And he was not about to piss himself in front of all the other hostages.

“Hey, Valtteri.” He asked the Finnish man, who had seemed so far to be the most knowledgeable when it came to hostage situations. 

Valtteri, who, without explanation, was unlacing his shoes and bundling up the laces, looked up at him. “What is it?” 

“What happens if I need a wee?” 

Oscar groaned. “For fucks sake, Lando.”

“Sorry.” He grinned at Oscar. “I forgot to go before this started.”

“They’ll probably let us go later, when more of them are back.” Explained Valtteri. “If they keep us that long.”

“If they keep us?” Lance’s voice shook a little. He hadn’t explained what had happened when he disappeared with the gang’s leader, but whatever it was it certainly hadn’t helped his nervousness.

“Relax.” Lying back onto the marble floor, Oscar stared up at the ceiling whilst he spoke. “They’re not going to hurt us. We can just wait this out.” 

“And don’t worry.” Valtteri patted Lance’s shoulder and whispered. “I am coming up with a plan. Speaking of which, I need all your shoelaces.” 

Zhou gestured to his shoes, an immaculately shined pair of heeled boots. Strange attire to wear to a bank, but Lando had to admit they looked good. “I don’t even have any.” 

“Don’t you think it’s a bit suspicious if all of us are missing our shoelaces?” Asked Oscar.

“Fair enough.” Valtteri looked directly at the security guard. “I’ll just have Lando’s.” 

“What? Why mine?” He protested, but the Finn was already making towards taking his laces.

“Your hands are tied together. You’re not going to be much help, with or without shoelaces.” 

It was harsh, but Lando did understand that he had a point. He didn’t particularly want to lose his shoes, however, and pouted as they were removed from him. 

“I still really need a wee.” 

“Can you try and hold it?” Checo had been helping by keeping a watch out for the two circling guards getting too close, but had evidently had enough of the conversation. “Distract yourself. Play a game with Oscar or something.” 

“I am not playing with him. I’m not a child.” Oscar continued to stare up at the ceiling. “Unlike some people.”

Frowning at the obvious insult, he couldn’t bring himself to fight back, his current problem developing worryingly quickly. “It really hurts.” 

“Maybe we can get you a bottle or something?” Lance was trying to be helpful, but Lando wasn’t about to piss in a bottle in front of everybody.

“I can’t even hold the bottle properly. And I don’t want any of you to hold it for me, thank you very much.” 

“Don’t worry, we weren’t offering.” Valtteri was making some sort of a plait out of the laces. 

Lando groaned. “This is the worst.” 

Well, it wasn’t the worst. But it was pretty uncomfortable. He had never been the best when it came to patience, and seemingly this was going to be another example of it. 

His legs had stood him up before his brain could tell him it was a bad idea.

And it was, seemingly, a very bad idea.

Below him, Lando was vaguely aware of whispers telling him to sit back down, all the rest of his compatriots' voices filled with both anger and worry. He kept his head up, and looked directly at the suited man who was heading towards him. 

“What the hell are you doing?” 

The Spanish prince, Carlos, as he remembered him being called, walked over, gun raised. Gun raised, directly at Lando’s face. 

The words were difficult to get out of his mouth. Carlos waited expectantly, brown eyes scanning up and down. 

“I just- I just really need the toilet?”

Carlos laughed. “What?” 

“Everything alright?” Daniel, the Australian who seemed to have been burdened with looking after the hostages for the whole time, strolled over, 

“Please, I just need the loo.” Crossing his legs, he looked at the two with despair. 

They both laughed, Daniel much louder and Carlos more nervously. 

“What was your name?” Asked the Australian.

“Lando.” He frowned, it didn’t seem like they were going to help him.

“I’m sorry, Lando. We can’t just let you wander off to the toilet, we don’t know what you’ll get up to.” Daniel smiled then continued speaking. “You can go when the others get back, before we get you your dinner.” 

“Please.” Lando couldn’t believe he was having to beg. Daniel didn’t react to his puppy-dog eyes, so he turned his attention to Carlos. “ Please.”

Carlos sighed. “Okay. Fine. I will take you.” 

“You know we’re not meant to-“ 

“Daniel, look at him, he is hardly a threat.”

Harsh, again, but Lando wasn’t going to argue with the man who was about to be his salvation.

“Sure, but if Nando finds out, you are taking all the blame.” Daniel scoffed, passing his gun from hand to hand. 

Carlos smiled. “We will be quick, won’t we, Landito?” 

He nodded enthusiastically. “So quick.” 

“Come on then, carinõ. You lead the way.” 

It was difficult for Lando to walk. Having his hands tied together affected his balance, he was tripping over his lace-deficient shoes, and he was trying his hardest to hold his bladder. The awareness of a gun to his back was also not helping, as much as he insisted to Carlos that he really wasn’t going to try and do anything stupid. 

The public bathrooms were much closer, and, in Lando’s opinion, much nicer than the staff ones. He wasn’t technically meant to use them, but that hardly mattered now. 

There was a blood stain in the sink, which was disconcerting, to say the least, but he room was otherwise as he remembered it. A little peace and quiet compared to the main hall. 

Shuffling on his feet, Lando made his way towards the stalls in the back. 

“No, you need to piss, you go where I can see you.” Carlos interrupted him, holding an arm out to stop his path.

Lando groaned. As if this was going to be difficult as well.

“Well I can’t exactly use the urinals, can I? I don’t know if you remembered, but you people zip-tied my hands together?” 

Looking him up and down, Carlos sighed. “Okay. But the door stays open.” 

“Fine.” It was better than nothing, and he wasn’t prepared to argue anymore when he was so close. He made his way up the closest stall, shimmied his trousers down whilst making sure his shirt covered himself still, and took a seat. 

Carlos was still watching him. Big brown eyes that did not leave his direction. 

“I can’t pee if you’re watching me.” 

He huffed. “Okay.” Carlos seemed annoyed, but did thankfully turn around, facing the blank wall behind. 

“So are you really a Spanish prince?” 

“I thought you were meant to be pissing?”

“I’m trying to!” Argued Lando. “It’s tricky with you here, I’m trying to distract myself.” 

Sighing again, Carlos answered reluctantly. “Yes, I am Spanish. No, I am not a prince. Do you think I would need to rob a bank if I was really a prince?” 

Lando hummed. “Yeah, fair enough. So what are you gonna spend all your riches on?” 

“You are far too relaxed with me. You will get yourself in trouble if you act like this infront of some of the others.” 

“Alright, alright.” He looked down at his bound hands, trying to pretend Carlos wasn’t there. It didn’t work. “We’ll be here forever if you don’t distract me.” 

“Fine. My father is unwell, he needs money for his treatment. I have no job, I cannot get a job because of my record. It is a last resort, but I am willing to risk this because I trust Sebastian. Is this enough to distract you?” 

It certainly wasn’t helping Lando piss. “Damn. That’s really sad.” 

“You surely did not think we were doing this just for fun?” The Spanish man was still staring at the wall. 

“To be fair, some of you do seem to be enjoying this.” 

Carlos chuckled. “Maybe for Fernando, but the rest of us need this heist for our own reasons. You would be surprised.” 

Staring upwards now, Lando couldn’t stop himself from asking. “Does your dad know? That you’re here?” 

“As far as I’m aware, no. The police shouldn’t know who most of us are. I doubt the news is showing my face.” 

“Do you think he’d be happy that you’re doing this for him?” 

Maybe he had gone a step too far. Carlos spun around on his heels and took a step towards Lando. “What is this? What are you trying to do?” 

Lando held his hands up as if to surrender. Or at least tried to. “No, no! I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean-“ 

“Have you still not pissed?” 

He shook his head. In his defence, this was an incredibly strange situation. 

Carlos groaned, thankfully walking away from Lando towards the set of sinks. For a moment he didn’t know what his plan was, as the Spaniard started turning on all the taps, then stood under the hand dryer. 

“Is this enough distraction?” He shouted over the noise. 

Thankfully, it was. Lando was able to open his bladder with little problem. He groaned as he did, long since done with feeling embarrassed. Carlos ignored him the whole time, only looking round the door of the cubicle when he was sure he was done. 

“I really didn’t mean to upset you.” Admitted Lando once he had finally managed to pull his trousers back up. 

It was difficult to read Carlos’s face. That or he went through so many emotions in a split second that it was difficult to tell which one he landed on. 

“I’m sorry about your dad.” 

Carlos settled on a gentle smile, and shook his head. “You talk too much, Lando.” 

“Yeah. I get told that a lot. Do we need to head back to the others now? I think my fellow hostages will be missing my entertainment.” 

“You have not washed your hands.” Carlos pointed to the sink. 

Lando groaned. “Come on, it’s not like I used them.” 

Tutting, Carlos placed a hand on his back and directed him forward to the sink, picking up the bottle of soap and tipping a small amount onto his hand. He turned the tap back on, and adjusted the temperature. 

Lando went to place his hands under the tap, and immediately splashed water everywhere. In response Carlos tutted and grabbed his hands. 

“You are making a mess.” He pointed out as he massaged the soap into Lando’s palm. Lando could only watch as his hands were gently washed in the lukewarm water. 

“Hey. Don’t tell Oscar.” Thinking out loud, Lando made eye contact with the Spaniard. “But you’re definitely my favourite of the bank robbers so far.” 

Carlos laughed softly, dragging him towards the hand dryer. “Well, I guess so far, you would be my favourite of the hostages.” 

Grinning from ear to ear, Lando raised his eyebrows. “So since I’m the best hostage, can we go back via the kitchen? I’m starving?” 

“Do not push your luck, cabrón.” 

Chapter Text

Charles sat in the office chair with his feet up on the desk, his black leather dress shoes landing next to the phone he had been keeping an ear out for. It hadn’t rung since he had arrived in the room. Maybe the police had nothing to offer yet.

A little part of him felt bad for sitting in the chair. George was on the floor, propped up against a filing cabinet. He didn’t look much better than the last time he had seen him, still the pale, slightly vacant look on his face. At least he was awake, and had been bandaged by Sebastian so tightly that George himself insisted that ‘the blood would never be able to fight its way out.’ 

It was a shame they hadn’t brought any spare suits. His white shirt was ruined. 

At least thinking about George kept his mind off Max. It was a little futile though, because the Brit wasn’t exactly making the best conversation, and Charles’ mind kept circling back to that one moment. Thank god Seb had excused him from helping in the vault. He didn’t think he would have been able to look Max in the eye again. 

It was nothing. Just a friendship kiss. That was a thing people do, right?

George coughed, bringing Charles back out of his head. 

“Can I have some more of that water, mate?” 

He handed over the glass, his friend taking it with a shaky hand. “Yeah, course.” 

Taking a sip, George looked up at him. “What’s the matter? Surely my grievous injury hasn’t upset you that much?” 

“No, it’s not that. I don’t know.” Charles leant back further in the chair. “Maybe it is just being here, finally. Feels so real.” 

“Aw Charles. It’s not like you to get all soppy.” George hesitated for a moment, handing Charles the water back. He placed it precariously on the edge of the desk. “Actually. No. That is very like you.” 

“Hey! Next time I will not drag your bleeding arse off the top of the bank stairs.” 

He did get along well with George. Even if him and Max had their own love/hate relationship going on, Charles often found himself as the neutral party in their arguments, and honestly did not mind it. It was nice to joke around with them, especially when the atmosphere had been kept so serious. 

“I am not planning on bleeding out again any time soon, I’ll have you know.” The Brit smirked at him. “This hurts like shit.” 

Charles gave a half hearted chuckle in response. He really did not want to think about any more gunshot wounds. 

“So are you hanging around here forever?” Continued George, evidently well enough to be back to his normal level of nattering. “Haven’t you got work to be doing?” 

“Seb said I had to take a break. And I don’t see you doing any work.” 

“So Seb agrees with me. You are looking more like a lost puppy than normal.” He smirked with a face like he was trying to cause trouble. 

Charles flicked one of the elastic bands lying on the desk in George’s direction. A protest, of some sorts. “I am not!” 

Picking the rubber band up, George began playing with it absentmindedly, twisting it between his fingers. Charles’ eyes fell to his hands as he did, spotting a gold band he had never noticed before.

“You’re wearing a ring.”

“Oh.” George lifted his hand up and examined it. “Yeah. I just wanted it back on, with everything that’s happened.” 

“I didn’t know you were married?” He was aware that George had a partner, but Charles knew very little of the details. He certainly hadn’t expected him to be a married man. 

He shrugged. “I guess I didn’t really want to go shouting about it. You know, given some of our company. It’s our wedding anniversary in a couple of weeks. Two years.” 

“Do they know you’re here?” Charles was curious now.

George rubbed at the ring gently with his right hand. “He certainly knows I’m not at home. And he’s clever, he’ll work out what’s going on.” 

“How did you know? That you he was the one, I mean.” 

“You’re full of questions now.” He laughed. “I don’t know, we were friends from school and then it was just always him , you know?”

George was saying a lot of words, but for once they were making sense to Charles. He didn’t notice that his mouth had opened slightly and he was staring straight through his friend.

“Seriously Charles, are you okay? You look like-“ 

“Max kissed me.” 

“What?” 

“I said.” Charles could hardly believe the words had made their way out of his mouth. “Max kissed me.” 

“I heard what you said, mate. Bloody hell.” The Brit’s eyes were wide. “Was it any good?” 

Charles placed his forehead flat on the desk and stared down at the wood. “I don’t even know. It was a spur of a moment thing. I think. A celebration. It is just how Dutch people celebrate, no?” 

“Did he use any tongue?” The smirk was practically audible on his voice. 

“Shut up.” 

“At least this explains why you’ve been so mopey. I can speak to Seb about it, if it’s bothered you that much.” 

“No, that's the thing.” Charles explained, lifting his head up. “What if it didn’t bother me?” 

George paused momentarily and hummed. “I think- I think that probably means you need to speak to Max about it.” 

Sighing, Charles gave his best anguished expression to George. 

“But, when you’re fucking please make sure it’s away from this room though. I do not want to hear that.” George continued, the smile returning to his face once again. 

“No more water for you.” He gave his friend (what he thought was) a gentle kick on the shoulder. 

This earnt a groan from George who grabbed at his side. “I probably deserved that. I can’t believe you’ve gone all lover boy. Although I have to be a little disappointed that it’s for Verstappen.”

“I will kick you again.” It was an empty threat, of course, but it got his point across. “What do I even say to him?” 

“Well-“ George started, but was quickly interrupted. A hard and frantic knocking on the office door caused Charles to jump, sitting up to attention straight away. 

For some reason, he looked straight to George, as if he would have any more idea as to what was going on. He evidently didn’t, an anxious look painting his face.

The door was pushed open slowly, and Charles felt his hand going to the pistol on his side. It was completely illogical, because why would someone that wanted to hurt them knock? Regardless, he could still feel his heart beating fast in his chest. 

A face popped around the door. “What are you two lying around for?” Pierre, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, addressed the two of them. He sounded slightly out of breath, like he had just been running. “Looks like the Police are trying to break through the east entrance.”

“Fucks sake.” Charles stood up, albeit slowly. 

“Are you feeling better, George?” The Frenchman asked. 

“Fine thanks. Simply lovely. ” That had to be a dig at Charles, thankfully Pierre seemed too distracted to pick up on it.

“Good.” He handed over a silver briefcase. “We need the cameras setting up. And whatever your communication thing is.”

George took the briefcase with both hands, struggling but managing to drop it down by his side. He immediately started entering the code into the padlock, straight back to work.

Meanwhile Charles began to collect himself, reloading his pistol and holding it down at his side. “What’s the plan?” He asked Pierre.

“Yuki’s down there already. Put up enough fight to scare them off. If not, Fernando will grab a hostage.” Pierre had his sniper rifle on his back, it almost hit Charles in the face as he swung round and directed the way out of the office.

“A hostage?” He asked as he followed behind. 

“I don’t know. It’s a Nando plan. I don’t think he’s going to hurt anybody.” He turned round as he sped up his pace, leading Charles through one of the back corridors. 

“What about Max? And Seb?” 

“Still in the vault.” Pierre ducked under one of the windows, the faint sound of commotion audible though the barred glass. “Watch your head.” 

Charles ducked with him. “Are they okay?” 

“What? They’re fine, don’t worry.” Leaning over, he pulled a metal box towards them and lifted the lid open. It revealed a set of various weapons, presumably brought in from their truck. “I think the aim is not to hurt anyone. Get some smoke bombs.”

It was quite contradictory then, that they had bought so much munition. And it didn’t look like Pierre’s sniper rifle had a stun setting. 

Charles leaned into the box and found what looked like smoke grenades. Not really having a plan with them, he passed one from hand to hand and waited below the window. Pierre has cracked the bottom of the glass open and had the barrel of his gun peeking out. 

Tentatively, Charles hauled himself up to be at the same height as Pierre. He was just able to see out the window, a police tape line visible in the distance with significant crowds. Closer, and more worryingly, there were six armored police officers, helmets on, zig-zagging their way towards the building. 

“Should I-“ 

Pierre shushed him. “Wait for it. Throw one of those in a sec.” 

“What am I waiting for?” 

That question was answered before Pierre got the chance to explain. A rumbling explosion, followed by the smell of burning and a plume of smoke erupted from one of the sewer grates near the swat team. 

“Nice one, Yuki.” Muttered Pierre, before firing off three shots. “Go for it, Charles.” 

Charles pulled the pin out of the smoke grenade and tossed it out the window. It only added to the chaos outside.

“What does that do?” He asked, once again not fully following. 

“No clue.” 

“Why the fuck did I do it then?”

“Yuki asked for it. I think he wants some of his stuff back.” Pierre continued to peer out of the window carefully whilst speaking. 

“Will any of his stuff have survived?” It had been quite the bang, and although Charles didn’t really understand any of the explosives stuff Yuki did, it seemed unlikely that any equipment would still be usable. 

Speaking of Yuki, the young Japanese man soon made himself known as he came round the corner, arms full of wires. 

“Hi guys!” He smiled, seemingly unfazed by the massive explosion he had just caused. “Did it work?” 

“I think so?” It was Pierre who answered, still staring out the window. “That was pretty cool, Yuki.” 

“Thanks!” 

“Are they retreating?” Charles asked, jumping to the more pressing matter.

“Looks like it. I’d say Seb will be getting another phone call some time soon.” Pierre removed his gun from the window and pulled it shut, ducking down once again. “We should go let him know. Oh, and you should come, Charles. See the work we’ve done with Max.” 

It was like people couldn’t go five minutes without mentioning Max. It was infuriating. 

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Come on then. You lead the way.” Pierre jokingly slapped Charles’ backside, to which Yuki laughed. It was a little humiliating, but that was Pierre, and it was hardly the most embarrassing thing that had happened that day. 

Standing up, Charles took one last look out the window, knowing it may be the last daylight he would see for a while. The sun was setting, an orange glow of light that would soon be replaced by darkness. He looked to his two companions before heading off, the three of them content that the Police threat was at least neutralised, for now. 

One less problem to deal with, if Seb’s predictions were correct they would not risk their men if they were met with enough resistance. One less problem from Charles' ever growing list of problems. The next problem of his was waiting for him in the vault. 

George was right. He had to speak to Max. But he had no clue how he would ever bring himself to do that. 

Chapter Text

“ Sir, it looks like they’ve set up explosions or something. I don’t know how we’ll get through.” 

Lewis sighed and pressed the keypad, allowing him to speak through the intercom. “Got it, Logan. Bring everyone back in.” 

“You shouldn’t have sent him.” Alex was standing behind him. He was doing that a lot. Hovering around anxiously. 

“I know.” There was a smell of smoke making its way into the tent. Lewis knew he shouldn’t have sent Logan, but there was no one else qualified to lead a team. And, although he probably wasn’t ready yet, he had done an alright job. “They’re all okay. But we need another plan.” 

“We look like idiots.” Esteban was typing on one of the desk keyboards, staring at the screen. “Running away.”

Esteban was, unfortunately, correct. But Lewis knew he couldn’t risk his men, nor did he want to put the hostages to any harm. He wanted to smash his head into the desk. 

“We need more on them. Seb will have a plan, but if we could just find out what he wanted, maybe we could come up with something.” 

Alex sighed. “They’re a very cohesive group. I don’t think if we fix Seb’s problems the rest will back down.”

“What about the others?”

“I mean, I’ve got pretty good details on their backgrounds and personalities. Nothing groundbreaking, but stuff we can work with.” He shrugged, wandering to the picture board.

Lewis followed with him, staring at the various photos and maps that had been pinned up. “Tell me about them.”

“Okay. Yuki.” Alex pointed to a picture of a young asian man. “He’s very good at what he does, but apparently struggles with significant anger issues. Charles can get very emotional, perhaps to the point where it’s counterproductive. Fernando- he’s probably the most likely to defy Seb.”

Esteban cleared his throat and interrupted. “How do you know all this? You’ve said you have been following their group, but how do we know this is true and not stupid psychoanalysis stuff.” 

Pausing, a concerned look appeared on Alex’s face. “We’ve got our sources. And we’re continuing to collect information.”

Lewis had more information on Alex’s job, but most of it was still a mystery to him. Everything was kept to strict secrecy, to protect their agents. And Alex had so far refused to explain anything to him until he knew everything was secure. It was tricky, because leading the negotiation without knowing everything his colleague knew was another layer of effort. Still, what had to be done had to be done, and he trusted that Alex would reveal everything when it was needed. 

“What about Pierre?” Asked Estaban.

“It’s like you're obsessed with him or something.” Alex laughed, causing his coworker to frown. 

“Don’t even joke about that. I cannot stand that man.” 

Sensing this could likely end in more than just friendly banter, Lewis interrupted. “Can we behave please guys.”

“Yes. Sorry.” The young Thai officer turned back around to face the board, pointing to Pierre’s face this time. “He’s somewhat of a joker, gets into a bit of trouble. Close with Tsunoda.” 

Lewis nodded. “We can work with this. If we can break them apart from the inside, we’ll stand a chance.” He looked round to his officers. “Esteban, see if you can find anything useful from their backgrounds. Stuff we can tempt one of them out with. And Alex, get Logan back in here. I think it’s time we give our friend Sebastian another call.” 

Watching Logan was giving Lewis a headache. The young man had taken little time to pull himself together, arriving back in the control room soon after he was summoned, but he was pacing from foot to foot in a way that could only be described as irritating. He guessed he had to give him a bit of leeway, the boy had probably never been nearly exploded before. Still, it was a little annoying, and not helped by the nervous energy that Alex had also been bringing to the tent.

Fortunately, however, Lewis himself had finally managed to finesse something to eat. Some sort of avocado sandwich from the local shop, nothing too special but it had been the only vegan thing they were willing to make him, and he needed to eat- they had long missed lunch time. He sat on the chair beside the phone, slowly picking at the bread, whilst he flicked through some more of the information papers. It was all useful stuff, heavy detail on each of the gang members, but nothing that was going to groundbreakingly win this for them. 

“I really didn’t think they would be that violent so quickly.” Logan muttered as he paced.

“It’s alright Logie.” Alex was the one to reassure him. “Just finish the report.”

“It can wait until tomorrow.” Closing the folder. “I’m going to call Seb, I want you all listening in.” 

“Sure. I mean, yes Sir.” 

“It’s alright Logan, you don’t need to call me sir.” He gestured to the seat beside him. “Sit down.” 

Logan did as he was told, sitting on the edge of the chair next to Lewis. The other two joined them as well, both leaning on the other side of the table, tall enough that not having a seat didn’t matter. 

Twisting his braids back behind his head, Lewis leant forwards and pressed zero on the phone keypad. 

It rang. And then it rang again. And then it rang six more times before anyone picked up. 

“Lewis. How can I help you?” 

“Hello, again, Sebastian.” He kept his expression perfectly straight as he spoke into the speaker. “How’s it going in there?” 

There was a chuckle from the other side. “Perfectly well. We’re all having a fantastic time.” 

“I noticed you tried to explode some of my officers.” 

“Well yes.” Seb replied. “Like I said, I don’t wish to hurt anybody, but I do need to keep this bank secure. And some of my men are very skilled with explosives.” 

“Yes. That’ll be Yuki, no?” The name drop was intentional. He wanted to keep them on edge, know that they knew they were catching up on them. 

There was a pause. “You don’t need to be investigating us. Any issues you have, they are with me.” 

“Seb, we know everything about your little group. Maybe you could put Yuki on the phone? Or Max? I heard he loves to talk.” 

“If you’re trying to get me angry, this isn’t going to work. Anyone can look at security cam footage and search a database.” 

“Look, Seb.” Lewis decided to change tactics. “How about a gesture of our goodwill? Some dinner for you and the hostages. Whatever you request.”

Lewis could practically hear Seb thinking through the phone. “We don’t need your help. We have food. “

“Well what can I do for you then?”

“Leave us alone.” He paused again. “Or bring me Lawrence Stroll.” 

That was a new request. He didn’t know what Seb could possibly want with the billionaire, but he couldn’t imagine it would be that good. His colleagues didn’t seem to know either, Alex shrugging whilst Esteban brought up Lance’s file on one of the laptops.

“Why?” 

“I thought you knew everything about us.” Lewis could just picture Seb smirking as he spoke.

“You know I can’t just bring you Lawrence Stroll.”

“Well. I guess we’ve got nothing more to speak about. When should I expect you again? Tomorrow morning? I imagine you’ve got big plans tonight, a famous officer such as yourself.”

He did, but it was not something he was willing to tell his friends, nevermind a criminal mastermind. 

“Always a pleasure, Seb. We’ll be keeping an eye.” 

“I know. Bye Lewis.”. 

There was a long high pitched beep. Lewis returned the phone headset and it stopped, leaving the tent in silence. 

“Did that- did that go well?” Logan was the first to speak up. 

He stared across at him. “Not particularly.”

“We might have at least rattled him with the Yuki comment.” Pointed out Alex. “And I might be able to find out what he wants with Stroll.” 

“We’ll go again tomorrow. Good work today guys.” 

“What?” Esteban stood up to full height. “You’re leaving already? It’s only six PM.” 

Lewis nodded. “They can’t escape. My phone will be on if anything happens, but I’ve got to go.”

Raising an eyebrow, Alex smiled at him. “Why? Got somewhere to be?”

“Sort of.” 

He could tell Esteban wanted to argue, but held himself back. Even if Lewis wasn’t going to meet Nico, he still needed the night to think of a plan. Unless something happened, the negotiation was getting nowhere. Carefully, he picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulder.

“Hey.” Alex patted his shoulder as he left, and grinned at Lewis “Have a nice time.”

Lewis had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as he left. 

It was a quick drive back home, and gave him just enough time to get changed. He chose a light pink blazer and matching trousers, all done up with a golden belt. Work had never allowed him to express himself in this way, and it felt freeing to dress as he did. 

The restaurant was within walking distance. Lewis knew he was slightly late, and this was only confirmed when he walked past the window of the Italian restaurant and saw Nico sitting at one of the small tables, looking down at his phone. He was less eccentrically dressed than Lewis was, in a simple blue shirt with the top buttons undone so it revealed just a little too much. A picture for the eyes in the golden lighting of the restaurant. 

The journalist stood up from his chair as Lewis entered, wrapping an arm around him and kissing his cheek.

“I thought you would never arrive. How are you?” He pulled out Lewis’s chair and let him sit down. “I ordered you a drink.” 

“Thanks.” It looked like some sort of fancy cocktail. Nico himself was drinking wine. “It’s been busy. Stressful. You know, work.”

Nico laughed, sitting back down himself. “You’re telling me. Although I think my boss bothering me for reports on the robbery is probably easier than whatever you’re dealing with.” 

“Do they know? At work, I mean, about us?” 

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think I’d ever get a day off again. You look tired, Lewis.” 

Lewis was tired. He hadn’t realised how much it was showing on his face. Or maybe Nico was just very good at reading him. 

“It’ll get better. I just need to work out how to fix this.”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Nico sipped his wine. “Talk it through with me. If you want to, of course.” 

“For your news company?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“No. To get it off your mind.” Reaching out, Nico grabbed his hand. “That’s all.” 

Lewis sighed and looked across at his partner, locking eyes. Maybe it would help to talk things through, and Nico was always understanding. 

“Well. I guess firstly, have you heard of Sebastian Vettel?-“ 

The evening went from there. Lewis hated talking about work, and although it wasn’t all they spoke about that night, it made up a good proportion of it. And that night, when it was late enough to be stupid, Lewis sat on top of his bed, pulling his boxers back on, and waited for Nico to get out of the ensuite. As he did, he had to admit that he did feel better. 

Chapter Text

Carlos Sainz was a smooth talker. He was an expert at disguise. He could get himself into any situation he needed to be. And somehow, under Sebastian’s plan, he had found himself handing out packed lunches to hostages. 

Slowly, he held the paper bags out to each individual. In them was a mix of sandwiches, carefully made by Yuki before they set off. The young Japanese man had insisted on doing the catering himself, and had put a surprising amount of care into making enough meals for everyone to last for a good few days. 

Most people took them thankfully. They were treating the hostages well, he supposed. He was sure Fernando was somewhere complaining about this, but Carlos was not in earshot of it and couldn’t really bring himself to care. At least he hasn’t worked out how to complain over the radio channel yet.

George had only given out the earpieces a couple of hours ago, but surely Seb was regretting them having constant communication. Carlos had barely spoken through his, keeping it muted since he had put the earpiece in. 

He had tried to silence it when Max had burst through with a long list of complaints about the vault system. He had tried to silence it again when George picked up and Max’s complaints were somehow replaced by the two of them explaining the same concept to each other. He had given up on trying to silence it by the time Pierre and Yuki had worked out how to use the intercom. 

“ Oh my God, Yuki. Watch this!” Pierre was practically shouting, Carlos wasn’t sure what it was he was so desperate for his friend to see.

Yuki cheered back through the earpiece. Much too loud. “ This is so cool. You should set it on fire this time.” 

“ Gentlemen.” Thankfully, Sebastian’s voice interrupted. “ Can you not set things on fire? Please.” 

Carlos saw Daniel at the other side of the hall click his microphone on. “ What are we setting on fire?” 

“ Nobody is setting anything on fire.” 

“ Guys. How do I work the Microphone? Can you hear me?” 

George could be heard sighing, like he had already explained this before. Evidently he was feeling better. “Yes, Charles. We hear you. There’s a button on the side to mute yourself.” 

“Can you hear me?” Charles sounded even more lost than before. 

“ Max.” George sighed again. “ Can you fix it for him?” 

“Why? You fix it.” 

“ I’m sorry, let me just take this bullet out myself and walk down to you.” 

“Guys, are you there?” 

“Pierre, go up to the top floor!” Yuki’s voice came through again.

“ Okay. How do I fix it? And only to stop him from looking so sad. Not because you told me to.” 

“ Well. If you refer to the tech manual, on page 73-” George started to explain. Carlos could not deal with this again. 

He pressed the button on his ear piece. “Please. Please, please, please be quiet. Shut up.” 

“ Carlos is right.” Thank God for Sebastian sometimes. “ The earpiece is not a toy. And it’s not for bickering. I will take it off you.”

“ But-“ Pierre began to protest.

“ I said I will take it off you. For the mission and emergencies only.” 

“Hello? Guys?”

“ And can someone please fix Charles’s headset?”

It really was a miracle the heist had gone this well so far. Thankfully everyone seemed to quieten down, and Carlos was able to hear his own thoughts once again. He sighed deeply and brushed his hair back off his face, collecting himself. 

There weren't many more dinners to deliver, just one group of hostages remaining- the group he and Daniel were affectionately calling the troublemakers. They had separated slightly from the rest of the hostages, spread out across the marble floor. 

Lance, the hostage of interest as Seb had put it, seemed to have fallen asleep. He dropped a bag of food next to him regardless. Zhou and Valtteri took theirs silently, slowly like neither of them trusted him, but hungry enough that they were grateful. Checo thanked him as he picked up his food, and Carlos had to feel a little sorry for the older man. Everytime he would walk past he would be asked about the children in the car and if they had been picked up yet. Carlos could only hope the police were doing that part of their job. He may have been a criminal, but he wasn’t a monster. And Checo seemed like a good man, a father who had gotten caught up in this by accident. 

Someone who didn’t seem like a good man, at least to Carlos, was the receptionist. His name was Oscar, which Carlos had had to learn to get closer to him, but the man irked him in a way none of the other hostages did. Why on earth he had little to no reaction to being held hostage Carlos had no clue. 

“I’m not taking that.” 

At least the hatred was mutual. “Why? I am trying to be nice.” 

“Okay. I don’t want whatever’s in that bag.” He frowned. Well, it was somewhere near a frown, the man’s face barely moved. 

Carlos shoved it forwards. “It is food. Take it.” 

“How do I know you’ve not poisoned it?” 

“Why would we poison your food? Do you not realise you would be dead already if we wanted that?” 

“No.” Oscar’s eyebrows raised a touch. “I know that your group doesn’t want us dead. It’s you in particular that I don’t trust.”

“Just take the food.” 

“No.” 

“Hey, come on Osc. You’ve got to eat.” Carlos turned his head to see Lando, grinning across at Oscar.

It was funny how his least favourite hostage seemed to be best friends with his most favourite. Not that he should have favourite hostages, but if he were to, Lando would definitely be number one. He wasn’t scared, not one bit, and he treated Carlos like he was a person, not a criminal. And sure, the bathroom escapades were probably against whatever protocol Seb had set up, but it had done no harm, and had been a bit of entertainment in what was otherwise a mostly grim task.

Oscar rolled his eyes at Lando, and took the bag of food. Lando then looked up at Carlos expectantly, and he lowered the last paper bag down into his handcuffed hands.

“Thanks!” His voice was cheery as he ripped the paper open and began to search though the contents.

Carlos was about to walk away, heading towards the best lookout spot of the hallway, when he heard a sad sounding groan. 

“What is it?” He asked, spinning round on his heel. 

“This is tuna.” Lando had a defeated look on his face like his puppy had just been shot in front of him. 

“Yes?” He hadn’t even bothered to look at the sandwiches. Yuki hadn’t catered to any dietary requirements, barring a few vegetarian options that he had felt obliged to put in. “And?” 

“Tuna is fish.” 

Carlos began to wonder if Lando could skirt around the point any slower. Of course tuna is fish. “Is that a problem?” 

“I don’t eat fish.” Arms outstretched as best as he could with the handcuffs on, Lando tried to hand the bag back. “Can I have a different one?” 

Looking around, Carlos’s eyes fell back to the cardboard box the food had been supplied in. It was empty, all the evening's rations already handed out. “I don’t have any others with me. There are more things in the bag?”

“But they touched the fish.” Lando frowned. 

“I guess I could go get you some of tomorrow's food.” It was worth a try. He wasn’t really meant to give anyone special treatment, but it was difficult to refuse. Whether or not it would be more difficult than explaining to Yuki that a hostage didn’t enjoy his food, he wasn’t so sure. 

“If that is the case,” Valtteri held his hand up, pausing as he took a bite of his sandwich. “I would also like some different food.” 

“Yeah. I mean if stuff is going. I’d have something different.” Lance hadn’t started eating yet, but was still vocal.

Carlos pointed at the billionaire's son. “If you want anything , you know you speak to Vettel whenever you wish. And there is no more food for the rest of you, it is only because he won’t eat his.”

“This seems unfair.” 

“Life is unfair.” Holding his hand downwards, Carlos helped Lando to stand. “Come, Lando. We will find you some food to eat.”

Oscar cleared his throat. “Uhm. No.”

“What is it now?” He really was not in the mood to argue with the receptionist. 

“He’s not just going to go with you. Again. I’m not sure what weird affinity you’ve picked up for him, but you’re not separating him from us.” 

Although he was ready to fight back, Carlos didn’t have to. It was Lando that spoke up.

“Osc, it’s fine. Carlos is harmless.” He smiled at Carlos, showing off the gap between his front teeth. It was rather endearing.

The receptionist’s eyebrows scrunched. “He’s a criminal, Lando. He’s hardly harmless.” 

“I am standing right here, you know.” 

“Shut up. Lando, please don’t be stupid.” He pleaded, but Lando didn’t seem phased.

“You don’t have to treat me like a child.” The security guard adjusted his arms so the cuffs sat a little more comfortably. 

“You know I’m just-“ 

“Just getting on my nerves.” Carlos interrupted him, placing his palm on the flat of Lando’s back to direct him round. “Do not forget who is in charge here. Come, Lando.” 

Fortunately Lando didn’t need much, if any, convincing. He walked past the rest of the hostages in front of the Spanish man with a spring in his step, entirely leading the way forwards towards the kitchen. Carlos kept his eyes on the mop of curly hair in front of him,  keeping his head down to try and not alert Daniel to the fact he was disappearing again. 

Their feet were loud on the marble as they exited into the corridor. Looking down, he could see his own dress shoes, contrasted with the lace-less sneakers on Lando’s feet. He wasn’t going to ask where the laces had gone. From what little he had learned about Lando, it would be for a strange reason, and he was content to leave it at that.

“So do you want some toast or-?” He looked around once they had entered the kitchen, surely there was some more food to find somewhere. 

Lando was already opening the fridge. He probably should have stopped him, or at least helped given his hands were tied together, but the young man was far too quick with it. “Nah. I’ve got this. Thanks though.” 

What he pulled from the fridge was a soggy-looking cardboard box, cradled delicately between his two hands. 

“Is that leftover McDonalds?” 

“Yeah.” Lando shuffled his way to the microwave and shoved the box in. “My dinner from last night.”

“This is all you bring for your lunch?” He asked, surprised that he could get by on such food alone.

Shrugging, Lando pressed the buttons on the microwave and it turned on, beginning to heat his chicken nuggets up. “I guess. I work long hours, don’t really have time for lunch. And I’ve got my own place now, so no one to cook for me.” 

Carlos leaned his side against the countertop. “Just moved out of your parents house?” 

“Yeah. Kind of.” The cardboard box was steaming as he pulled it out the microwave. “I was actually going to be a police officer. Oh- sorry.” 

“I don’t care what you were going to do.” He watched as Lando carried his food over to the table and tipped it out onto one of the plastic plates.

“I’m not anymore. I left.” Lando hesitated, stared down at his food, then looked back at Carlos. “Well. I got kicked out. That was nearly five years ago. I think mum and dad got fed up with me being at home all day. So here I am.” 

“You wouldn’t want to be a police officer anyway.” 

“No. Not like this is much better. I work a week here and I’ve already been taken hostage. And I get paid nothing to do it.” He picked up a whole chicken nugget and popped it in his mouth, then continued to talk. “Ow. It’s hot.”

Carlos could only stare at him. 

“So how long are we being kept hostage for?” Continued Lando, slightly difficult to understand with his mouth full of food. 

“A while.” He wasn’t about to tell Lando the whole plan, but he didn’t want to leave him wondering too much either. “You shouldn’t be like this with the others. They might not take too kindly.”

“Oh. Sure.” 

Still, it didn’t seem like Lando was taking this as seriously as he should. He placed a hand on his shoulder. “I mean it. Some of these men are very dangerous. And don’t mention the police thing to any of them.”

“I wasn’t planning on it. Damn, everyone’s so worried about me today.” 

“Lando, please.”

“Okay, okay.” He threw a fry into the air and caught it in his mouth and winked. “I’ll behave. For you.” 

Later, when Lando had finished eating and Carlos had taken him back to the main hall, he found himself sitting at the front with Daniel. The two of them watched over the hostages from the table, both sat with legs swinging. Daniel had placed his gun beside him and was looking over the crowd with a watchful eye. 

The Australian was getting bored. Carlos hadn’t known him long, but he knew him well enough to pick up that he’d had enough of being on babysitting duty. Unfortunately, he was the best suited to the job- he certainly wasn’t scaring these people as much as someone like Fernando would, and he had a certain stage presence that kept people under control. Still, the small talk they engaged in wasn’t entertaining either of them. They had sat in silence for a good while. 

Daniel was the one to break it. “He’s good looking, actually.” 

Raising his eyebrows and turning to his college, Carlos took a second to work out who they were talking about. “What? Who?” 

“Your new little thing. The one with the funny name- what was it?”

It seemed that Daniel had gotten the wrong end of the stick. He wasn’t completely wrong though. Lando was very good looking.

“Lando? No, Daniel it’s not-“ 

Daniel laughed and held his hands up in defense. “Hey, hey, I’m not one to judge. We can do what we want right, as long as he’s a consenting adult.”

“We are not fucking, Daniel. I just took him out to get some food.” 

“It’s alright. I won’t tell anyone.” He patted Carlos on the shoulder. “As long as you don’t cause any trouble.” 

“I promise you, we are not-“ 

The look on Daniel’s face told him that no level or arguing wasn’t going to convince him of the truth. Carlos sighed and resigned himself to the potential fallout of something that wasn’t even happening. 

“You’ll just have to give me all the details once we’re out of here and relaxing on our own private island.” Joked the Australian.

Carlos forced a laugh out. “Yeah. Absolutely not.” 

As they fell back into silence once again, the Spaniard's eyes fell to Lando. He hadn’t meant to stare, but somehow his brain had taken him there. The young man had sprawled himself across the floor, head lying in Oscar’s lap. He looked like he could fall asleep, but was still chatting away, gesturing with his hands sleepily. He was undeniably charming. Undeniably beautiful.

Internally, he swore to himself. Because maybe Daniel was onto something. 

Chapter Text

Sleeping in the bank was a strange feeling. Sebastian had explained it to them before they broke in, and it had made sense as a plan, but in practice it felt odd. Like being jet lagged, almost. Not that Pierre had traveled much, and certainly never gone far enough to be jet lagged, but it was how Yuki described it. And he trusted Yuki. 

Pierre was meant to be on the last watch with Yuki, at least on the first night. He was a little excited for it, just the two of them without the stress of the others watching over their every move. 

Charles had begged him to swap, for some reason. And when he had refused, Charles had asked Sebastian, who had agreed that the swap was a good idea. Apparently Yuki and himself hadn’t shown the level of maturity needed for the two of them to look after the hostages by themselves, which may have been true, but setting the portraits of the bank manager on fire had definitely been worth it.

Yuki had been stuck with Max then, on the third watch, and the two of them had woken up Charles and Pierre for the final watch of the night. It just have been about five am when they had started, and very little had happened. The hostages had been relatively well behaved, as hostages go. The majority of them were sleeping on the floor- with blankets of course, they weren’t monsters. A few were still crying, but they had mostly run out of tears. 

It was difficult to tell the time with being trapped inside, but the watch on his wrist kept ticking, and it was soon seven. Morning time. Early enough to get back to work. 

Charles looked like he could fall back asleep, chin rested in his hands. He had been quiet the entire watch, more so than Pierre would imagine he would be to allow the hostages to sleep. Yuki would have been much more fun. Maybe he wasn’t okay, but he wasn’t telling anyone what it was about if he wasn’t. 

“ Morning everyone.” The voice of George over the intercom wasn’t exactly what he’d call a friendly wake up. Of course the young genius was up at exactly seven, and gave no one else any time to get themselves together before being loud. These earpieces were a nightmare, Pierre was just glad nobody had been snoring into them. 

Daniel made a point of yawning into the mic. “ Good morning, Russell George. Could you not have given us another ten minutes?” 

“ Early bird gets the worm. And the millions of Euros.” 

Pierre rolled his eyes at this, sharing a look with Charles. 

“ I was already up.” This was Max, unsurprisingly, taking another opportunity to argue. “ Despite an eventful watch.” 

It hadn’t been eventful, Pierre knew that. Yuki had given him a full run down of the exciting things that had happened, which had been mainly Max lightheartedly making fun of the rest of the crew. 

“ Enough, please, Max. Let us all meet in the office in ten minutes, we can regroup, have some breakfast.” 

“What about the hostages, Seb?” Whispered Charles next to him, looking out over the group of sleeping people. 

“ I’m sure they can keep themselves safe for a quarter of an hour. Come, I think we need this.” Sebastian always sounded so calm, like he had done this a hundred times before. Maybe he had. He was very private about his past.

Pierre left the sleeping hostages with Charles on his tail. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any trouble, and he couldn’t imagine there was anywhere for them to go even if they tried. The doors were so heavily barricaded. 

He let his hand skirt up the banister of the stairwell, fingertips against the smooth wood. Continuing on, he traced with his fingers across the ornate wallpaper, tracking the way into the office. The door pushed open easily, and he twisted his shoulders to slide into the room, allowing Charles to follow after him.

The majority of the heist crew were already there. Sebastian sat on the main desk chair, and nodded to Pierre as he entered. Once again,  Fernando was spread across the table dramatically, and was picking at some fruit absentmindedly. Not moved from where Pierre had last seen him, George had definitely made himself at home on the office floor, long legs spread out taking up the majority of the space. Perched precariously on top of a filing cabinet was Daniel, Carlos sat on the floor next to him with legs crossed. 

Pierre leant against the far wall, and they waited. He was poured a coffee, which he sipped on slowly as Daniel, George and Charles all chatted sleepily. It took a short while for Yuki and Max to make themselves present, to the point where they were considering going out and grabbing them, but the young japanese man soon showed up. He was still half undressed, doing up his shirt buttons and sounded slightly out of breath like he’d been running. Max was mildly more composed, with a frown on his face. 

“Sorry!” Yuki laughed as he shut the door behind them. “I lost my shoes.” 

Letting out a laugh, Pierre had to stop himself from cracking a joke as nobody else was laughing. Well, Daniel could have been, but it was difficult to tell if that was any different from his normal demeanor. 

“It’s not a problem, you have them now.” Sebastian smiled, and gestured for Yuki and Max to come further into the room. “Take some food, have a coffee. There’s plenty to go around.”

It was good food, or as good as you could hope for in the middle of a heist. Pierre ripped off a piece of the bread with a helping of butter and jam. He tucked into it whilst the others picked up their breakfasts, sat down on the floor with his knees up. Yuki sat down next to him with a much larger portion of food, biting into a strawberry with a grin on his face. 

The conversation naturally fell back to the plan, and Pierre felt himself daydreaming as he was unable to get a word in edgeways. The forge he had helped to set up was working as expected, according to Max at least. The tunnel which he had been helping to dig was also coming along smoothly, according to Charles. Things were going perfectly, apparently, and even if Pierre wasn’t given any of his rightly deserved credit for doing the majority of the work, he was still proud of how far they had come. And was very much looking forward to the monetary reward. 

“I think I am getting somewhere with Lance, as well.” Sebastian added after letting everyone give their updates. “He seemed convincable to work against his father.”

“I’m sure I can convince him. If you cannot.” Looking Sebastian directly in the eyes, Fernando gave him a look that could only be described as unsettling. 

“That will not be necessary.”

“What?” He held his hands up in feign surrender. “I only meant I would talk to him. He seems like a good kid.”

Sebastian hummed, not sounding entirely convinced. “Well, we certainly have options. I am proud of you all, boys. But there is still plenty to be done.”

“Have we been on the news yet?” Asked Yuki with great enthusiasm. 

Daniel laughed, still sitting on his spot on the filing cabinet. “Oh definitely. We must be world famous by now.”

“Yeah. Loads, actually. Not all complimentary, and it looks like all our names are out there already.” Evidently George had been researching this. But what hadn’t he been researching? “They’ve got a really good mugshot of you, Daniel.” 

“Aw you’re kidding? Let me see?”

“Later.” Sebastian interrupted once again. “We have more to discuss.” He paused and took a bite of the bread he was eating, chewing it slowly. “I have one of our men on the outside, he will be delivering my manifesto to the news companies. And I’ve asked him to check in with your families as well, I did not realise they would find out all your names so quickly.”

“Who is it?” Max was still frowning as he asked. Sebastian had been keen to keep external members of the team a secret to them, infact Pierre had no idea how many people were actually working for this heist. “Is it another one of your ex-con friends? I don’t think you should be getting criminals to stalk our families.”

Sebastian sighed. “Nobody is going to stalk your families. And I think your father, of all people, will manage.”

“I don’t mean my dad.” Somehow, Max managed to scowl more. “Like Charles has a little brother, no?”

In the corner of the room, Charles was somehow managing to avoid eye contact with everyone. He didnt speak a word. 

“It’s Kimi.” Nonchalantly, Fernando didn’t look up from his food as he spoke. “He wanted to be involved but he couldnt stand the idea of being locked in here with us all for more than an hour.”

“What? Raikkonen? He’s definitely going to scare the life out of Charles’s little brother.” Daniel laughed, but Sebastian was eerily silent. 

“What will they do Seb? They are stuck in this bank, they have no way of communicating with the outside world. The kids might as well know who is going to be looking after their precious families.”

Sebastian took in a deep breath, staring Fernando down, and for the first time since they entered the bank there was a crack in his composure. His voice stayed monotonous, but the words that came out were anything but emotionless. “I’m trying to not get angry this time around, but you are making it fucking difficult today. I don’t care what you think, don’t spread my secrets and don’t undermine me.” 

Fernando grinned. “Sorry. I won’t do it again.”

“Get out. I’ve had enough. We will speak later.” 

Sheepishly, Fernando raised his hands and bowed slightly in Seb’s direction. “I will go watch the hostages. Thank you for breakfast.” 

Fernando scuttled out the room. The rest were left in silence. Pierre stared down at the floor between his legs, not wanting to look at Seb and get in any more trouble.  In the corner of his eye Yuki was pulling a face, also looking away from the rest of the group. You could have heard a pin drop in the office, not one person made a sound other than the heavy breathing of the German, who was slowly calming himself down. He placed his head in his hands with elbows propped up on the desk and sighed. 

“I apologise. I’m not cross, we just need everything to be executed perfectly.”

No one responded. Presumably no one dared to, Pierre certainly wasnt going to say anything stupid. Fortunately, as if done purposely to diffuse the tension, the phone rang. Well- perhaps not fortunately, given who was likely on the other side of the phone. 

Sebastian let it ring twice, back to his composed self once again. It was unusual, Pierre noted, to have so many people in the room. These phone calls were private most of the time, and he didnt even try to understand the politics of hostage negotiation. Still, they weren’t sent out, so Seb obviously had no qualms with allowing them to listen in. 

Silently, the group watched as Seb picked up the phone and answered. “Hello, Lewis. It’s very early.” 

“Hello Sebastian.” It was a French accent, Pierre could instantly recognise it. Nobody had mentioned that the negotiator was French. 

Seb’s face dropped. “Who the hell are you?” 

“My name is Esteban. I’m Hamilton’s second in command. He’s a little busy , so I’m just calling to check how your night was.”

Esteban. Now that was a name that was recognisable to Pierre. How bad was his luck that Esteban of all people was waiting outside. “You fucker. Let me speak to him.”

Sebastian sighed. “No, Pierre.”

There was a chuckle from the other side of the line. “Pierre is there? Hi Pierre, long time no see.”

“Tell him I’ll kill him for what he did. Ruined my fucking life. My friends are in jail because of you.” Standing up, Pierre made his way over to the desk as he spoke. 

“Anyway.” Sebastian ignored him. He held his arms wide in confusion, but got no notice. The German continued speaking. “Everything is going fine here. How are my favourite police officers? I hope Lewis was not held up by anything too worrying.”

“Lewis is fine. Now, we’ll need another set of pictures of your hostages please, just to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

“That will be no issue. And I assume you’ll leave us in peace?” He tapped his nails against the wood of the desk, only adding to the fury that Pierre was feeling.

Esteban didn’t answer, instead he hummed then changed the subject. “Is Yuki with you as well? Can we have a word?” 

Looking around, Pierre made eye contact with Yuki, who looked more confused than anything else. What could the police possibly have on him? He was too young to have built up any sort of record, and he had probably the smallest amount of influence over the rest of the group. And, of course, in Pierres eyes he could do no wrong. 

“You can speak to me, and me only. What do you want with Yuki?” Seb looked down at Yuki, who shrugged. 

“I just thought he might want a bit of an update. I’ve just spoken to some very concerned parents, and he really is so young, you know?” 

It was Yuki’s turn to stand up now, joining Pierre with leaning over the desk. He pulled himself over on his forearms in an attempt to speak into the phone headset. “My parents are here? Why?”

“They’re in a little bit of trouble, I’m afraid.” Esteban continued. “We just went round to say hello, but we found some interesting things in the Tsunoda household. Some very dangerous looking firearms.” 

“That’s not true!” Yuki was practically shouting, eyes wide as he looked at Sebastian for some encouragement. “I don’t have anything at home- I don’t even use a gun normally.” 

“It’s okay.” Patting Yuki’s shoulder, Seb then directed his conversation back to Esteban. “This is not a discussion for you to be having, I would like to speak to your boss please.” 

“Oh absolutely. But Yuki, surely you must know where those guns have come from?” 

Briefly, Yuki looked to Pierre. Like he was working something through in his mind. Then he shook his head and turned back to the phone with an expression so angry that there was almost steam coming out his ears. “You’ve fucking made it up, that’s where they’ve come from. Let me speak to them properly, dickhead.”

“Okay.” Seb pulled the phone backwards and covered up the microphone. “The rest of you leave. Yuki and myself will work this out.”

“I’ll stay too.” Blurted out Pierre as the others began to make themselves ready to leave. 

The leader of the heist crew shook his head. “No. Only Yuki will stay. Everyone else can get back to work.” 

Defeated, Pierre stood up straight and hugged Yuki into his side gently. The young Japanese man was vibrating slightly, but seemed to calm to Pierres touch. He then followed the rest of the team out the door. Carlos took the lead, naturally, and disappeared without saying a word. Daniel next, supporting George, and then a very irritating wait as Charles and Max both tried to allow each other through the doorway first (if Pierre had been less worried, he would have noted how incredibly un-max-like it was to be acting like such a gentleman). He left last, giving Yuki one last worried smile and shutting the door gently behind him. 

He sighed as he leant back against the wall. Nothing could be heard from the office, but Pierre couldn’t even imagine what sort of conversation they were having. 

“Are you alright mate?” Charles had stopped to allow him to catch up, and was staring back at him with his usual worried expression. “I don’t think they’re actually trying to blame you for it. Yuki won’t believe that.”

It hadn’t even clicked that that was what Esteban was trying to do. He would never put someone elses family at risk like that, especially not Yuki’s. Were they trying to get them to fight? 

“I’m fine, yeah. Thanks.” Pierre nodded to Charles, who smiled back in response. “I’m going to go to the toilet, I’ll see you in the vault?” 

“Sure. Stay safe.” 

Finally alone, Pierre found himself in one of the public toilet cubicles. It was beautifully empty, and quiet. He locked the door behind him and placed the lid down so it became a seat for him. Although he was fairly certain there wouldn’t be cctv in the toilets, he checked the ceilings anyway, it was better to be safe than sorry. And, once he was sure he was truly out of view of everyone, he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his smartphone. 

It took a moment to turn on, having been out of use for a while and with Pierre being so cautious to keep it a secret he hadn’t dared to try it yet. But he very desperately wanted to read these news articles and more importantly see if there was anything about the Yuki situation. 

He searched up his friend's name first, and scrolled through the first set of articles that came up. There was nothing he didn’t already know. Somehow, he ended up on a reddit forum filled with theories about the group- much more positive than anything the news companies had come up with. He read them for a little while, more for amusement than anything else as they were mostly baseless, but he was stopped when a notification popped up at the top of his screen. 

A text. From an unknown number. 

How anyone had his number, nevermind knew he was on his phone, stumped him. And more concerningly, whoever had texted him clearly knew what was going on. 

‘Hello Pierre.’ It read. He stared at his own name. ‘ What are you doing with a phone? Naughty.’ 

Instantly, he pressed the button on the side of the device and tried to get it to turn off. Not quick enough. The screen flashed up with another message. 

‘ I know you want to ignore this, but hear me out. I can get you more money than you’d ever make with this heist. And protection from any legal consequences of your actions.’

This piqued his interest. He knew it was wrong, and he knew it was dangerous. But he was curious what this new contact had to say. 

With some debate, he clicked on his messages app, and began to type out a message. 

‘ What do you want from me?” 

He took a deep breath and considered deleting it. But he’d already gone too far. Looking around once more like someone else could have materialised into the bathroom, his finger hovered over the button. And then he pressed send. 

‘ Brilliant.’ The person replied almost instantly. ‘ Let’s talk business.’  

Chapter Text

Lewis woke up with Nico’s back plastered to his chest. His left arm was numb underneath him, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, even despite the humidity of his bedroom. The sun always shone directly through his window in the morning, which was nice in theory but came with an uncomfortable level of heat. 

Nico was still fast asleep, snoring softly in Lewis’s arms. He rocked marginally with every breath, just enough for Lewis to feel it against his skin. With the tips of his fingers he traced patterns on the pale skin, watching as he stroked over the fine blonde hair that was so scarce on his partner's arms. He could have stayed like that forever. He could stay with Nico forever, the thought popped into his mind briefly. He had never gotten so close to an individual as this before, and he had to admit that he didn’t hate it. Nico was like nobody he had ever met, he did something to him that he didn’t even realise was possible. 

Turning his head broke him out of his sleepy daydreaming. His dad had bought him a clock, years ago, as a gift for graduating as a police cadet. It was one of those fancy ones that projected the time onto his ceiling. This morning in particular it was flashing red, and once his eyes adjusted he could see the time. 8:50. Not ideal. Understandably, given the events of the night previous, he had forgotten to set an alarm, but he underestimated how long he would have slept in for. Unless he could somehow materialise at the bank in ten minutes time, he was going to be very late for work. 

He shook the arm that was underneath Nico, gently trying to free himself. “Nico.” He whispered, then spoke louder when he got no response. “Nico, come on man, wake up.”

The blonde man groaned and rolled over so he was face to face with Lewis. He smiled and pulled the bedsheeps up over his shoulders. “Morning baby.” 

“We need to get up.” Freeing himself from Nico, Lewis pulled himself up so he was balanced on his elbows. “Shit, I’m so late.” 

In response, Nico groaned and turned round further so his face was buried in the pillow. 

“Come on!” Jokingly, Lewis gently slapped his back and pulled himself out of bed, wincing as his bare feet touched the cold of the tiled floor. He searched through his draws to find some clothes that would be deemed professional enough for work and pulled them on as speedily as he could, just barely managing to catch himself on the wall when his foot got stuck in his trouser leg. 

“Be careful.” Nico smiled. He was still in bed, albeit finally sat up, but looked incredibly relaxed with the duvet wrapped around himself. 

Lewis took heed of the warning, and chose to sit down to put his socks on. “I don’t know why you're so relaxed. You’re never going to make it back home in time to get to work.”

“Yeah.” Swinging himself round, Nico began to pull himself out of bed then stopped. “Well, actually. I was thinking.” 

“Yeah?” He couldn’t think of what this was going to be, but Nico had a distinctly serious expression on his face.

“Maybe I could leave some of my things here. I do seem to sleep here more often than I do at my own flat.” He raised his eyebrows at Lewis, his blond hair messy and falling over his eyes. “If it’s alright with you?”

It was like butterflies filled his chest, and for a moment Lewis forgot to speak, forgot he had to answer. It wasn’t even like Nico was moving in, but it was a step in the right direction. “Of course. Yeah. That’d be nice.” 

Leaning over the bed, Lewis placed a hand on Nico’s jaw and gently turned his head to face him. He kissed him slowly, and Nico laughed into his mouth as he did. When he pulled back, Nico pulled Lewis’s head down and pecked his forehead, running a hand over his braids. Slowly his eyes shut again and he hummed, still gently stroking Lewis’s head. 

“Nico.” Sighed Lewis, realising that his partner was about to fall back asleep. “Come on, we need to leave.”  

It took longer to free himself from Nico than it did to find his shoes and pull his jacket on. Once Roscoe had been fed, Lewis waited in his living room, quickly shooting Alex a message that he was going to be a tad late. As he waited he noticed a scuff on his chelsea boots, and leant over to rub at it with his sleeve. Maybe he could get some boot polish on the way back from work. If he ever got to work, at this rate he was going to be more than acceptably late. Nico still hadn’t emerged from the bedroom.

At the point where it was getting ridiculous, Lewis stuck his head round the door, and raised his eyebrows at Nico, who was slowly buttoning up his shirt. After jokingly expressing his displeasure, he offered to leave his spare set of keys for Nico to take, which the German gratefully accepted. Finally, he was able to head out of his flat, taking the stairs down and sprinting into the garage where his car was parked. 

The drive was uneventful, fortunately most of the traffic had died down, given how late it had gotten. He had to park a fair distance away, pulling his bag from the boot and locking the car from a distance with the keys as he half ran, half walked in the direction of the bank. Despite the time, he still made the decision to stop at the local coffee shop. Vanilla oat latte for himself, iced matcha for Alex, cappuccino for Esteban. He had to guess for Logan, and for no reason other than vibes decided on getting him a hot chocolate. With the drinks in a cardboard carrier, he held them under one arm whilst he tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as he slunk into the tent. Everyone knew him, so nobody bothered to check his ID. The one positive of being the top man of this operation. 

He could hear arguing before he even got into the main control room. Well, it was probably arguing, but it was definitely a lot of french shouting followed by the occasional sarcastic comment in English. 

“All I was saying,” It was Alex who was speaking when Lewis entered the room. The Thai man was leaning against the table casually, seemingly unbothered by whatever the conversation was about, “Is that you can’t introduce yourself as Hamilton’s number two when that’s not true.”

Esteban was much less chilled out. He stood by the phone, feet wide and shoulders held defensively. He whispered something in French, so under his breath that even if Lewis could have understood it he would never have been able to hear. 

Logan, in contrast, was by the door as Lewis entered. He looked like he was trying to make himself as small as possible, tucked away so he didn’t have to get involved. He was nibbling on his fingernail as he watched the other two, and was the only one to react to Lewis being there, looking up with a smile. 

“What’s going on?” He whispered as he handed the American his drink, eyes still set on the two arguing officers. 

Taking the drink with a nod of a thank you, Logan shrugged. “I think it’s because of the phone call?” 

Lewis sighed. He should have predicted something would have happened given the amount of time they had been left alone, but he struggled to imagine who they could have phoned that had caused an argument this early in the morning. An anxiety slowly began to pool in his stomach, if something had gone wrong because he had slept in, it could be his job at stake. Hopefully it was something that could be hidden from the Police Chief, otherwise they could all be in trouble. And he wasn’t willing to wait for his staff to confess to what they’d done. 

Placing the drinks down on the centre table, he made himself obvious to the arguing pair, who both silenced upon seeing him. “Guys. Who the hell have you called?”

Neither answered immediately, staring at each other and waiting. It was Estaban who eventually gave in. “Well. It is protocol, isn’t it? To check in with the criminals in the morning, to keep ourselves updated. And it was getting so late.”

“For fucks sake.” Lewis sighed, and leant his head forwards in his hands. “You know you shouldn’t-”

“In all fairness,” Added Alex, “It went fine. Mostly. We’ve started to build some amniosity between the group. Although I don’t think Sebastian is too keen to speak to Estie again.”

“Good. Well he won’t be. Nobody will be speaking to Sebastian but me, okay?” At least nothing catastrophic had happened, but he was less than happy that they had taken such a jump without even phoning him to check. 

After receiving quiet apologies from Alex and Esteban, Lewis began to get himself settled in for the day. He placed his bag behind his seat, hung his coat up and sat down, taking a sip of his coffee. It was sweet, and filled a hole since he hadn’t had any time for breakfast. By the time Esteban had gone through the entire report for the night and he had listened to the recording of the phone call, the coffee was all but gone, just the dregs left contained at the bottom of the paper cup. It made a slurping sound as he finally finished it, then threw it in the bin from across the room.  

People got back to work like he had never been late. Lewis took some time to read through the board they had put up, checked any new additions, then sat down and watched through the cctv footage before the cameras had been cut. Looking for something, anything, that they could use against Sebastian. He wasnt content in waiting until they did something wrong, or they finally had a reasonable request to barter with. He knew Sebastian. He wasn’t going to be defeated by lying in wait and hoping to catch them on their escape. 

He was about to play the video of the gun fight on the bank's main steps when he felt a presence behind him. He turned to see Alex, iPad held between his crossed arms, leaning over his shoulder to look at the screen. 

“Hi.” He smiled, like he always did, and kept talking before Lewis could respond. “I’ve got something useful.” 

Pausing the video, Lewis spun around on his chair to face Alex. “Go on.”

“Well firstly, you’ll never guess who snuck a phone in with them?” Laughing, he held out some screenshots of a blurry phone video, unmistakably showing the confused face of Pierre Gasly. “His phone was really easy to hack as well. Apparently. I’ve had a little chat with him, but Logan will be running that element from here.”

He gave a quick thumbs up and a smile in Logan’s direction. The younger man gave a hesitant thumbs up back before turning back to whatever he was typing. It was good that Logan had some more responsibility, Lewis hadn’t known him more than a day but it did seem like he needed something to boost his confidence. 

“And the other thing. I’ve been speaking with my informant.”

The mysterious informant again. Lewis had been meaning to pick his brains on it when they got a private moment, but had been somewhat distracted by Nico recently. 

“He says- well- have you heard of Kimi Raikkonen?”

Unfortunately, he had. Most people in the force were aware of the man, mostly against their will, and Lewis, having worked with the police for so many years, had been more than a little involved. He sighed. “You’ve got to be kidding me man.”

“He’s not super involved by the sounds of things, something behind the scenes, sorting stuff out for Sebastian whilst he’s stuck in the bank. But he’s definitely a part of it.” Swiping through on the iPad, Alex produced a map. “I’ve got his last known address here.”

“Have we got enough evidence for an arrest?” 

Alex shrugged. “Not really. But if he’s got nothing to hide, he should talk to us, right?”

Seemingly Alex had not been involved with Kimi yet. Still, it was their only decently sized lead, and knowing Kimi, simply showing up and allowing him to react as he did was enough to warrant an arrest. “Okay. Get your stuff, I’ll drive.” 

To Esteban’s delight, he was once again left in charge. Alex gave a bunch of very quick, stressed instructions to Logan, who wrote them down attentively, and then the two officers left the base together. They walked in silence to Lewis’s car, passing through the crowds of passers by and reporters that only got bigger and bigger as time went on. Keeping their heads down was the only way to avoid any questions, and that was what they did as they weaved through. Lewis hadn’t looked at the news since he was brought in on the case (excluding reading the first draft of Nico’s article), but he wouldn’t have been surprised if tonight it was plastered with pictures of his face. 

When they reached the vehicle, Lewis made the younger officer wait outside momentarily as he hastily threw various pieces of rubbish out of the passenger seat footwell and into the back. His car wasn’t usually such a mess, but it had been getting hard to keep up with recently, as with a lot of elements of his life. 

Alex didn’t seem to care, head down and alternating between scrolling and aggressively typing on his phone. He slid into the car without looking up, only showing any indication that he knew where he was when Lewis turned the engine on. 

“Shall I get the map up?” He asked as Lewis pulled his seatbelt over his shoulder. 

Lewis nodded in response. He hadn’t spoken to Kimi since the last time he had been arrested, and the Finn had certainly moved addresses since then. A little more typing from Alex brought a route up on the car’s screen. It looked easy enough to drive, even if the destination was to Kimi, which he was less enthused about. 

Even once they had set off, Alex was quiet. No more so than he had been for the past day, but more than Lewis was used to. Especially given how chatty he had remembered him being when he was younger. It had been a while since they had worked together, of course, with Alex changing jobs and Lewis being moved to higher things, and they hadn’t known each other well back then. But, still, he couldn’t help but feel like something was slightly off. More than he had just matured with age.

He tapped his hands on the steering wheel, the man in his peripheral vision back to his phone. Scouring his mind, he finally remembered some non-work related details about his colleague, and managed to break the silence. “How’s the cat?” 

Alex quickly turned his phone off and tucked it into his trouser pocket. “Cat? Oh, fine. We’ve got five now. The flat is a mess at the moment.” 

“Five?” Lewis laughed and shook his head. He couldn’t imagine looking after five animals, there was only one Roscoe and despite being the most well behaved dog he had ever met, it was still a lot of effort. 

“I’d still have more. I think I’m pushing my luck with five, to be honest.” He shrugged, smile wide on his face. “Not everyone is as big a fan of pets as I am.”

“Yeah, probably not.” He agreed as he pulled the sun visor down as they cleared some of the taller buildings. 

“Hey, just to resolve any rumours,” Alex began to ask, and Lewis could already tell where this was going. Really he had expected the questioning to start earlier in the day. “Why were you so late this morning? Is everything okay?”

Lewis couldn’t hold back a smile. “Yeah, everything’s fine. We just stayed up late last night, I forgot to set an alarm.”

Alex didn’t speak for a moment, but Lewis could feel eyes on him. “ We stayed up late?” He giggled. “Oh, I see.”

“It’s not like that.” He lied, because Alex was one hundred percent on the money. “Come on man, we're professionals.”

“Okay, okay. But who are they? And when do we get to meet them?”

“I don’t know.” He said honestly, slowing down for a traffic light. 

“We should go for a meal sometime. It would be good for Logan to meet some more people, I think. And this business is a lot, you know, we do need to decompress.” He babbled away as Lewis continued to drive. “Wow, the guys at the station are going to love this. I think some of the older guys have been making bets on when you’ll eventually get hitched. I’ll have loads to tell them.”

“Don’t you dare, Albon.” He knew people talked about his private life, it was always going to happen given how famous he was within the force, but he hadn’t realised it had evolved to betting. 

They sat in silence for the next couple of turns, although it was obvious that Alex was holding himself back from asking many questions. The electronic voice of the Sat-Nav broke through the quiet, and Lewis did as he was told with his eyes stuck forwards. 

“Can I ask a question as well?” There was something he suspected that he needed to check whilst they were alone. 

“Of course.”

“The information you’re getting. We’ve got an officer in the bank, haven’t we?” It didn’t take a genius to work out, otherwise how would they be getting such detail on their operations? It was more than just research on Alex’s part.

In the rearview mirror, Lewis could see Alex’s brown eyes widen just a touch. “Yeah. I’ve been keeping it on a need to know basis, he’s in a bit of a precarious place. But he’s okay. And it doesn’t sound like Vettel suspects a thing.” There was a shake to his voice that Lewis had never heard before, not even when he had introduced himself as a nervous rookie. It seemed like there was more to this than he was letting on.

“Good. Is it someone you know well?” 

Alex only hummed in response. 

“We’ll keep him safe, don’t worry.” Although he had no means to prove this, Lewis was confident it was true. He hadn’t lost an officer since he was promoted to this position, and he prided himself on that. 

“Thanks.” The younger officer sighed. “Anyway, he’s perfectly capable. As he keeps reminding me.” 

With a gentle chuckle of acknowledgement, Lewis slowed the car down and pulled in at the side of the road they were on. He parked the car, despite being still a minute or so away from Raikkonen’s house, as he had learnt that it was never a good idea to park too close. The two officers accounted for all their equipment, did their safety checks, and stepped out of the car.

The streets in the area were some of the more run down in the city, much less clean than the area Lewis lived in, and with the majority of the local businesses closed shop. When he was younger he had worked in this neighbourhood, but that had been a long time ago, and it had really gone downhill since then. The officers walked side by side as Alex directed them with google maps down one of the residential streets. 

“It’s this one.” Alex pointed to a small house with a neatly kept front garden closed off with a stone wall. It was well looked after, and fairly dull. 

Lewis pushed the wooden fence open with his foot, and walked up the small path towards the door. He was aware of Alex following close behind him, and heard the distinctive beeping as he turned his body camera on.

His knuckle hovered over the painted black of the front door, composing himself before he knocked. When he did there was, unsurprisingly, no answer. He looked over to Alex, who shrugged, and then tried again. Presumably the man was in, the lights were on and he could just about hear faint music through the door. 

“Kimi?” Lewis hit the door even harder. “Kimi, we just want a word.”

After much more persistent knocking, movement could eventually be heard. What sounded like multiple bolts being undone, and then even more keys turning. Lewis ushered Alex backwards, then took a step back himself just as the door was opened.

Standing there, dressed only in a towel with hair still dripping wet, stood Kimi Raikkonen. The blond man was older than Lewis remembered, but otherwise had not changed. 

“What?” Asked the Finn, looking the pair up and down. 

“We want to speak to you about Vettel.” Lewis began. “Just a couple of questions, can we come in?”

Kimi frowned. “No.” 

“Come on Kimi, we’re mates, right? It would be really helpful, I’m sure you’ve heard what’s been going on in the bank? Seb’s got a lot of people held hostage.” Perhaps the ‘mates’ statement was a bit too far, but they were certainly aquaintences, despite not always having met in positive circumstances. 

“I don’t care. Why would I know? Me and Sebastian haven’t spoken in years.” He began to close the door again. 

Alex held up a hand. “We’ve heard some evidence that suggests otherwise. Maybe if you speak to us you can prove you’re not involved?” 

This seemed to spook Kimi (as best as Lewis could tell, because his face hardly moved). He made direct eye contact with Alex, his blue eyed gaze so harsh it could cut through glass. “I don’t know you.”  He frowned, and slammed the door shut.

Sighing, Alex went to step towards the door, as if to knock again. “Sorry, I thought he might have gone for that.”

Lewis was about to reassure him, but he had a sinking feeling that something was wrong. He knew Kimi, and he knew that he was absolutely fuming from Alex’s comment. And then he realised. Kimi hadn’t locked the door behind him. 

“Get back.” He muttered, then repeated louder, “Get back!” pulling Alex with him as fast as he could away from the door and out of the garden. 

The Thai man followed with him, confused expression on his face, but allowed himself to be pulled down behind the wall, knees up to chest, just before a barrage of gunfire flew over their heads. 

“Shitting hell man.” Lewis groaned, keeping his head down as best as he could. He pressed the button on the side of his radio, and spoke into it clearly. “Shots fired, we need backup.”

Alex was having a much harder time fitting behind the wall given his height. He had managed to pull his pistol out from the holster, but neither of the officers stood a chance at getting a view on Kimi. “Where did he even get an assault rifle?” 

“I don’t want to know.” Lewis grimaced, trying to look around the wall when there was a break in the shooting. He couldn’t even feign surprise that the conversation with Kimi had ended up like this. 

The radio lit up with noise, letting them know that more officers were a minute away. Lewis responded to let them know more about their location. He considered firing a few shots back, but wouldn’t have found a way through if he had tried. There was nothing to do but wait, listening to Alex’s heavy breathing inbetween gunshots. 

It felt like a relief when the sound of sirens filled the air and the blue lights of more cars could be seen coming down the road. Thankfully, this also stopped the gunfire, and the door could be heard slamming shut once again, this time with the characteristic sound of locking afterwards. 

After what seemed like an intense amount of handover and watching the SWAT team attempting to get into Kimi’s house from a distance, Lewis and Alex were finally able to leave. Lewis resisted the urge to show off about how he had predicted the scenario going as it did, but he did note how he had predicted it perfectly. At least they had more than enough reason to arrest the Finn now, and he was much more likely to speak if he couldn’t leave. It was a stupid move on his part, and a predictable one. And it was moves like this, knowledge like this, that was going to give Lewis the upperhand. 

He returned to the base of operations with his head held high, a smile on his face, and another long report to write. What an eventful morning it had been. He couldn’t wait to tell Nico all about it. 

Chapter Text

Avoiding Max was not going to plan. It was hard to avoid anybody, given the close proximity in the bank, but the Dutch man seemed to be making it particularly hard.

Charles knew he had to speak to him. It was on his mind more than anything else, which had to be a problem given the situation they were in. He had to at least know if Max had meant anything by the kiss. Let himself get back on with the heist like nothing had happened. But asking was a terrifying concept, not only because of the potential for embarrassment, but the additional possibility that it had meant nothing. 

He had never gotten the impression that Max had any sort of interest in him before. Sure, they had been close throughout the training that Sebastian had put them all through. Max was definitely closer with him than anybody else, although he was kind of an arsehole at times, and didn’t always open himself up to friendships. It was difficult to be friends with criminals, he supposed, particularly for Max who was the only one of the heist crew without some sort of record. 

Taking some of the bread from breakfast down with him, Charles was almost happy to be kicked out of the office and be made to go back to work. He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with the Dutch man, and George was not helping with his constant eyebrow raises and smirks in his direction. Knowing George, the rest of the crew probably knew the full story already. Maybe that could be a good thing. He wouldn’t have to be the one to bring it up. Making his way down the stairs, he strolled leisurely to the vault finishing his food on the way. The door was wide open still, allowing the noise of machines to come through. 

Of course Max was already there, already back to work. He stood in the far corner, holding a screwdriver in his mouth as he fiddled with something on one of the winches. 

Charles hovered in the entrance, partially obstructed from view by the massive stacks of money that they still hadn’t moved. He went unnoticed for a little while, swaying on his feet and hoping that someone else would join them so they could speak about something else. Nobody did. 

He was going to make his presence obvious before it was awkward, but he was noticed before he got the chance. Max was staring directly at him, blue eyes with that slight sparkle in them that he got when he was about to cause mischief. “Hi Charles. Come in. I don’t bite.” 

It wasn’t biting that he was worried about. 

“Are you doing anything?” Max continued once Charles had shuffled into the vault properly, looking back down at the machine again. “You can help me if not.” 

“I’m not going down the tunnel.” He replied suspiciously, not willing to join in another Max plan unless he knew exactly what it involved beforehand.

Max cackled. “It’s not big enough for you yet. Maybe I’ll push Yuki down later.” 

Charles laughed politely in return, and attempted to make his excuse. “I should probably go check upstairs.

“Why?” The Dutch man lifted his head and looked Charles up and down. “What, are you trying to avoid me?”

“No, no. No. It’s not that. I just- well, perhaps Sebastian will need me for something else.”

Shrugging, Max turned back to whatever he was working on with the screwdriver. “Okay.”

There was a sense that it was, infact, not okay. 

“I didn’t mean-” Charles began, but couldn’t think of a way to finish the sentence. His words trailed off as he continued to stare across at Max. 

“I don’t care what you meant. You can go, I dont care.” He picked up what looked like a bolt and held it between his lips. Charles couldn’t stop himself from staring at it. 

He didn’t leave. He was at somewhat of a standstill, because he didn’t want to leave, but he also couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t either incredibly awkward or potentially friendship-ruining. The solution that his brain gave him was, unfortunately, to just stand and gawk.

This seemed to amuse Max. He smirked, and took the piece of metal out his mouth. “You know you can take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“I can't,” Charles muttered. “No phone.”

The Dutch man laughed again. Charles hadn’t thought it was that funny. Max put down his work on one of the ornate golden tables stored in the vault, and ducked underneath some machinery to be out next to Charles. He sat down with a thump on top of the stacks of euros. “You know, Daniel thinks you’ve been acting weird. He told me earlier.”

“What? Why?” Charles continued to hover. 

“Things like this.” Max gestured at where he was standing. “You were never like this when we were training. Sebastian is worried you're having some sort of mental breakdown.”

Charles scoffed. “I’m not having a mental breakdown.” At least he didn’t think he was. He was at maximum on the edge of a mental breakdown. 

“I know. I think it’s something else. 

“Like what?” 

Max raised his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth turned into a slight smile. “I think it’s me.”

Yet again, he didn’t know what to say. But he must have shown his feelings on his face, because Max sighed and rolled his eyes. 

Patting the money to the right of him, Max softened his expression and gestured for Charles to sit down next to him. “Look. We should talk about it.”

Charles perched next to him, the paper a surprisingly comfortable seat. “We should.”

“I think I made you uncomfortable. Yesterday, when we first got into this vault.” He was making intense eye contact which Charles struggled to look away from. 

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“I definitely did something!” Max gestured wildly with his hands forwards. “Look at you, you look more on the verge of tears than you ever have. I should have asked before I kissed you.”

“Max-”

“No.” He continued. “I am sorry. I was emotional and I need this money. We all need this money, I mean, but it felt like freedom. I don’t know, maybe I had created a fantasy in my head or something.”

“Max.” Charles repeated with more strength this time. A secret part of him was glad that Max was going as insane about this as he was. “It’s fine. It was fine. No, really,” He added, noting the doubtful expression on Max’s face. “I didn’t mind.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know? After this we’ll all leave and go our own ways. We won’t even see each other again.” He sighed. “I just couldn’t watch you moping around like this for the rest of the job.”

“I was a little confused perhaps? But I’m not moping.” Because he wasn’t moping, he was committing the largest crime of his life so far, and Max had sent his brain haywire. 

They were sitting so close together that Charles could feel Max’s breath against his neck as he exhaled slowly. “So what then? How do we fix the confusion because we cannot keep on like this, we can’t-”

“You could try it again?” 

“What?”

Charles really needed to get better control of himself. The words were falling out his mouth before he could even try to stop them. He could feel his face slowly start to flush. “I mean, I won’t force you but-”

There was a hand on his cheek, cold against the flushed skin. Then Max turned his head so they were facing, and for a moment he was back there, staring in his eyes. And then Max pressed their lips together. 

It was much more gentle than the first kiss, but still with an aggressive push forward. Very Max-like. Charles gently moved his mouth back again, eyes shut and lost in the moment once again. It was easy to forget where they were in the middle of the largest bank vault in the country. Slowly he lifted his head, so their noses touched, and pulled back.

Max had to be more flushed than he was. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone turn such a shade of crimson before. The Dutch man let out what could only be described as a giggle. “Well?”

“It’s not bad.”

“Not bad? I need to work on my-” Max started, but Charles stopped him from speaking by pulling him forwards by his shirt and bringing him in for another kiss. 

“Fuck.” Max whispered when they finally pulled apart again. His hand wandered up Charles’s back, wrapping around his waist. He laughed. “Fernando will kill us. Do you think this counts as getting too close to individuals in the crew?”

Hopefully, Fernando wouldn’t find out. Either way, Pierre and Yuki were certainly closer than this, maybe not in the same context, but it would be equally as dangerous in the old man's mind. It had been a warning, early on in the training, so much so that the use of codenames had been suggested. But what did Fernando expect? Friendships were going to form. Well, perhaps he couldn’t have expected this level of connection, but to be fair to him, neither had Charles until the day previous. 

Somehow, he found himself lying back on the pile of stacked money, with Max covering him with nearly his entire body weight. It was like once they had started they couldn’t stop, and his hips involuntarily lifted upwards when Max ground his thigh down between his legs. Charles ran his hands up and down the other man's back until they settled in his short blonde hair, fingers pulling it tightly as Max’s mouth made its way slowly down his neck. 

If anyone had wandered downstairs, they would have heard from miles away. It was a miracle nobody did, with the door to the vault wide open. Any amount of time could have passed, but nobody spoke through the intercom, and nobody came to find them. 

When Max lay down next to him, he sighed as he caught his breath back. Charles’s shirt was open and so creased that even if he knew how to use an iron properly, he didn’t think he would ever get it back to how it was. 

“God.” Groaned Max, lifting his arms above his head. “You don’t seem confused anymore.”

Charles felt like he had to gasp for air. “No. I don’t think so.” 

“Good.” He had his eyes shut, despite how early it was in the morning. “We’ve not done any work.”

“You said earlier,” Charles asked, changing the subject to something he had meant to ask about before. “This money, what do you need it for?”

This earnt him a glare. Max had not been one to share much in the past, but apparently he felt obliged to now. “I used to work for my father. He got himself into a spot of bother, earlier this year, and he was in control of my finances. He still is. Some of the people after him would want me as well, and I can’t leave the country with no money.” 

“Your father will come with you?”

“No. The dickhead sold me out, he’ll get what he deserves.” He turned his head over to look at Charles. “What about you? What’s the tragic backstory?”

Charles wouldn’t call his backstory tragic, and he felt a little guily explaining it after listening to Max. “Sebastian is an old friend. I’ve been robbing houses since I was a child, and I kind of moved on up from there. You don’t get much bigger than this.”

“True.” He paused, and pouted like he was debating whether to say something. “Pierre would make a really inappropriate joke right about now.” 

“Pierre would have made so many inappropriate jokes already. Can you imagine? What was that nickname he-”

His line of thought was interrupted by an almost deafening high pitch noise in his ears through the earpiece (Charles had forgotten he still had it in his ear, he hoped to God that George hadn’t been listening in). Before he could check if Max had the same issue, the fraught voice of Sebastian followed. 

“ Everyone to the main hall. Now.”

There was no further context, but the tone of his voice suggested something was wrong, and Max seemed to have gotten the same idea. He was quickly pulling himself back together, and making himself as presentable as possible. Charles followed suit, doing up the buttons of his shirt and folding the collar back. 

“What’s happened? I didn’t hear gunshots?” He asked Max as he re-zipped the flies of his trousers. 

“No, but it doesn’t sound good.” Max grabbed his gun and held it tightly in his hand. “I’ll meet you up there.” He nodded, and was about to take off before spinning on his heel. “Shit.” 

“What?” 

“You should probably leave the collar folded up. Your neck is a bit-” He grimaced.

Charles groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Sorry.” 

Max disappeared with an unenthusiastic jog, leaving Charles standing by himself in the vault. Begrudgingly, he folded his collar back up again, and hoped that it would be enough to hide the evidence of what he’d just been doing. He couldn’t imagine anyone would be fooled, but he was in too good a mood to care. 

There was a smile on his face as he followed Max back to the main hall, ready for whatever trouble awaited him. 

Chapter Text

“We need to do it today. This morning.” 

Valtteri had been explaining his plan for what felt like hours, and Lando was still none the wiser as to what it involved. To be fair to the Finn, he had not been listening, but it hadn’t exactly been an easy conversation to follow. And he still didn’t have his shoelaces back. 

“Is it not a bit risky?” Checo had been arguing the whole time, he seemed the most nervous, excluding maybe Lance, but the young billionaire had had very little to say. 

“We still do not know what they want with us. Or why they’ve been in the bank so long. It’s not normal.” He certainly had a lot of experience being held hostage, by the sound of it. Lando didn’t really care to know the details, but Valtteri spoke with enough confidence that he trusted anything he said. “I’m pretty sure the Australian has a key. He’s our best target.”

The doors were heavily bolted shut, but held with what looked like bicycle locks on the handles. Lando had gone over and had a look when the bandits had momentarily disappeared that morning. There wasn’t an easy way out without a key, but if Daniel had one, it could mean their freedom, and Lando would be able to go home and sleep in a proper bed again. He was willing to give it a try. Not to mention he was interested to see how his shoelaces would be used. 

“I’m happy to grab him, but the rest of you will have to try the keys. And we’ll have to distract the others.” Valtteri looked directly at Lando. “I trust you can deal with your man?” 

“Carlos is not his man. ” Interjected Oscar, who had been characteristically non-chatty the entire morning, and looked as if he hadn’t fully woken up yet. 

“Aw Osc, I didn’t realise you felt that way about me.” He joked, and ruffled the receptionist's hair, earning a glare in response. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“Whatever. Just keep him out of the room.”

“Okay, quickie out back. Got it.” He smirked, looking over to where Carlos was by the main desk. The Spaniard was the only guard present, with Daniel not having returned yet. He felt his gaze linger, but then was promptly brought back to the conversation when he felt a hand hit him round the back of the head. He was met with the scarily emotionless face of Oscar Piastri. “Sorry.” 

“I think I might be able to help.” Lance interrupted, his voice cracking mid sentence. “They’re leader, Sebastian, I should be able to keep him away, stop anyone else from coming in.”

This had to be something to do with their earlier conversation, where Lance had been taken away from the group. He hadn’t explained what had happened more than being asked a favour, but it had to be something to do with his background. If anyone had bargaining chips, it was Lance. 

“That would be very helpful, thank you.” Valtteri’s moustache made a funny shape when he smiled, it was quite distracting for Lando. “Zhou, are you happy to help me with Daniel. We make a good team, I think.”

“Of course!” Zhou beamed from the compliment like he hadn’t just blindly agreed to attack a man. 

“I’m happy to check the doors then.” Added Checo. The Mexican man had been attempting to look out the windows as much as he could, and had even more reason to want to escape than the rest of them. 

“So Oscar will keep watch. Good.” 

Oscar barely reacted to his new role, but didn’t object, so presumably was happy enough with it. 

This left them only to wait, with Valttri giving no further detail on his plan, and the rest of them either sat around or subtly spread the word to the other hostages. By the start of the second day they had stopped being inforced to stay in one place, and Lando was able to mingle through the hall and gently speak to some of the other people held there. It didn’t seem like Carlos especially would be one to stop him. He made sure to slip the Spaniard a smile when he was close enough to be in the direct line of the desk. 

Carlos gave the hint of a smile back, then promptly turned his head away. 

Food had been delivered for breakfast earlier, plastic boxes of pre cooked pancakes that would have tasted better warm. Lando had been willing to eat his, although had left one behind which he picked at whilst sitting cross-legged on the floor with the rest of their small group, quizzing Zhou about any modeling gossip he knew. He got very little information back.

An excessive amount of time seemed to pass before Daniel reappeared.  Lando was getting incredibly bored, especially since Oscar had fallen back asleep, and nobody else fancied talking to him. There was even more waiting once he did arrive, the Aussie looking flustered as he pranced down the ornate stairway and chatted with Carlos. He did seem like a nice guy, even despite his unnerving smile. Lando really hoped that the plan wasn’t to hurt him too badly. 

Hesitantly, Lance wandered over and spoke to the two criminals. The man had his arms crossed infront of him like he was trying to be casual, but the shaking of his legs was noticeable from a distance. Hopefully it wouldn’t raise any suspicion, Lance had looked that nervous since the criminals had entered the bank. He was a little too out of earshot for the conversation to be heard, but it was easy to see Daniel press his earpiece and speak into it. Next to Lando, Valtteri raised his eyebrows and smirked. The game was on. 

Lance waited at the front of the room, stepping from foot to foot with head down, looking away from Daniel and Carlos who had gone back to whatever they were chatting about. When Sebastian appeared, it was not with the aura of a man leading this operation. He was calm, like he had been when he had addressed the group initially, but not in an unsettling way. Shorter than average and his hair was messy, and it was difficult to miss the specks of blood on his white shirt. The smile on his face was reassuring, and it only felt a little bit like they were feeding Lance to the wolves when he was called in the German’s direction. 

They met halfway up the stairs, Sebastian placing a hand gently on Lance’s shoulder and guiding him upwards out of the main hall. He gave one last look in the direction of their group before he disappeared out of sight. If all went to plan, that would be the last time Lando saw him whilst being a captive. 

“Okay.” Lando felt a nudge on his side as Valtteri spoke. “When you’re ready. Wake your friend up too.”

Doing as he was told, Lando gently kicked Oscar where he was sleeping next to him on the hard floor, causing the younger man to groan in displeasure and grumpily open his eyes. “It’s, like, nearly midday, Oscar.” He actually had no clue what time it was, but that felt about right. “You cannot be that tired.”

“Hey. I’m up, I’m up.” Muttered Oscar, wiping his eyes. 

Collecting himself, Lando stood up (a little awkwardly, the bound hands did make it difficult), and patted Oscar on the head. “Catch you later Osc.”

Lando was stared up at by the Australian. “Please don’t do anything stupid.” 

“I never would.” He smirked, gave one last nod to the group, then sauntered over to where Carlos was sitting. 

The Spaniard was staring down at his nails, picking at them absentmindedly. His hair had fallen over his eyes, the dark brown strands moving up and down slowly with his breath. Daniel was a little further away from the desk, leaning against one of the marble pillars of the bank, eyes shutting for a little longer than a blink then jumping back open again. Neither of the men seemed to notice Lando. 

“Hi.” He cleared his throat and spoke. “How’s the heist going?”
Carlos looked up suddenly, eyes widening then settling again once he realised it was Lando. His eyebrows lowered in concern. “What are you doing?”

“Just thought I’d say hi.” 

“If you’re going to ask me to go to the toilet again, you will have to wait. I can’t do that again.” He sighed, standing up from the desk so he was closer to Lando.

“No, no it’s nothing like that.” Lando also took a step forwards, they were probably too close, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable. At least not to him. “What was Lance saying?”

“You know I cannot tell you, Landito. What is it you need?” 

Unfortunately, Lando hadn’t come up with a plan yet. He had hoped something would come to him by just speaking to Carlos, but his brain had come up with nothing useful. The only thought was to get him out of the room and at least by himself some time to have an idea. “I just have something I need to speak to you about. In private. Please.”

“Is everything okay?” Carlos seemed genuinely concerned. 

“I just want to talk to you.”

His acting must have been pretty good, because Carlos stepped even closer and wrapped an arm around his waist. “Come on then. Daniel?” He called over to his friend. “We will be back in a second. Call me on the earpiece if you need.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow suspiciously, face twisting into a wide smile. He gave a thumbs up to the two of them. “Alright! Use protection!”

“He is only joking.” Whispered Carlos as he directed Lando through one of the doors on the lower floor. His hand drifted on the small of his back, and it did make Lando wonder how much of a joke it really was. 

It was much quieter in the hallway, the sound had really picked up in the main hall with the amount of chatting. It felt nice, like he could breathe properly again, and it certainly smelt better than the room full of people. Lando was still effectively standing in the doorway, with the wood pressing against his backside, and Carlos stopping him from walking out into the corridor.

“Is this far enough?” He asked, pouting with a confused expression painting his face.

Just outside the door was certainly not far enough to keep Carlos out the way. “Could we go to the kitchen?” 

For a moment, Carlos hesitated. “Why do-”

“Please.”

He sighed. “Okay. For you.”

Strangely, the light to the kitchen was on and the extractor fan could be heard through the door. Somebody was obviously in there, presumably one of the other captors. Carlos held out an arm and stopped Lando from walking in. “I think it is Yuki. He likes to cook.”

That was the short Japanese guy, as far as Lando could remember. He wasn’t someone who had spent a lot of time with the hostaged. 

“It isn’t good for us to be seen together like this.” Continued Carlos. “I think Daniel has already gotten the wrong impression.”

“We could go to the changing room? Where my locker is?” Lando suggested in return. It was a small room, barely space for one person, but it would really keep them out of the way. 

Carlos gestured forwards. “Lead the way.” 

He took his time walking, shuffling with his too-loose shoes and not wanting to risk falling with his hands together. It also helped slow them down, giving them more time with Carlos out the room.  The changing room was a short distance from the kitchen, but he managed to kill a good few minutes getting there, stopping infront of one of the less-ornate doors in the building. 

“I’m going to really struggle to put the code in with my wrists like this.” Explained Lando, gesturing to the metal keypad on the lock. 

Carlos sighed. “What is it?”

“To be honest they’re really starting to dig in. Zip ties are really uncomfortable, it’s pretty sore.” Maybe he was trying his luck, but this wasn’t a lie. They were really uncomfortable, not to mention that he couldn’t even lie down properly and get some good sleep. 

Surprisingly, Carlos agreed. He searched through the pockets of his suit jacket and pulled out a small swiss army knife. “It’s not like you have anywhere you can go to.” 

Cautiously, Lando extended his arms and held his hands to the older man. The feeling of Carlos’s warm hands on his was nice, a gentle touch that didn’t last long before the knife was used to split the plastic. His arms fell free and dropped to by his sides briefly before he lifted them up and stared at his skin for any damage. 

“Thanks.” He smiled, gently massaging his wrists. 

“No problem. Put the code in.” 

A loud creak came with the door opening, and Lando stepped in first and clicked the light on with the switch in the far corner. Carlos followed shortly after, with the lock automatically clicking behind him. It was certainly tight for space, with Carlos up against the lockers and Lando pressed against the wall. Even despite being on opposite sides of the room their chests were almost touching. This time, they were definitely too close. 

“Now we are alone, what is it you need?” Carlos asked. Lando could feel the warmth of his breath. 

He had forgotten he was meant to be coming up with the distraction still. And then his mouth started to speak without his brain telling him to. “I guess I just wanted to thank you. You’ve been so kind to me.”

Carlos looked confused. “Is that it?” 

“Well-”

“I appreciate this, Landito. But we cannot come all the way out here just for thank yous.” He turned and put a hand on the door handle. “Come on.”

“Wait.” Lando protested. 

“I need to do my job.”

“Stop” Not knowing what to do, he reached out and gently touched Carlos’s chest. “Can’t we just take a bit of time out. It’s stressful for me out there and I just sit on the floor, I can’t imagine what it’s like for you.”

“Lando-” He sighed, then exhaled with a deep hiss when Lando pressed his hand a little harder on his front. The Spaniard leant forward so their faces were close, just centimeters away from his lips. Just as Lando thought he was going to go for it fully, he pulled away. “We can’t.”

“Why?” His hand explored more, second arm coming over to wrap around Carlos’s back. The Spaniard was incredibly handsome, and he was upset he hadn’t gone for this form of distraction to begin with because he was very much enjoying it. 

“It’s not appropriate. I’m holding you captive.” Carlos was starting to breathe more heavily, strongly audible in the small room. 

Lando shrugged. “Only if I don’t agree to it. I want this.” 

“Shit.”

Before he could say anything else, Lando stood up to his full height, pulled Carlos’s head down and pressed their lips together. Carlos moaned into his mouth, and Lando took the opportunity to press his tongue in, holding the other man's head tightly towards his. Their teeth collided and he could feel Carlos pushing forwards as well. It was messy, but it was one of the best kisses he had shared in a long time. 

“You’re a good kisser.” Pointed out Carlos once they had pulled apart. 

Feeling out of breath, Lando leant back against the wall, pulling the other man with him. He pecked his lips once more and sighed as Carlos’s hands wandered to his backside, holding him up. “Thanks.”

“I can make you feel so good. Relax properly.” His hand moved to Lando’s front, brushed over his trousers where it was obvious he was already half hard. 

“Yeah.” Hands roaming to grasp Carlos’s dark hair, Lando groaned. “Please.”

“You are so beautiful. I wish we could have met in some other circumstance.” Painfully slowly, he undid the top button of Lando’s trousers, pressing their mouths together once again. 

“Keep going.” He sighed, leaning his head on the other man's shoulder. It was wrong, and he felt bad deceiving Carlos like this, but he was more than enjoying himself. It was difficult to hold back his moans, turning his head to keep his mouth shut. 

Then Carlos stopped. He lifted his head, and took a step as far back from Lando as he could.

“Hey.” Protested Lando. “Don’t stop.”

Carlos was pressing down on his earpiece, staring at Lando. His mouth dropped open slightly and he wiped his face. 

Of course, Lando knew exactly what was coming through his radio. He just hoped it was good news, it didn’t feel like it had been that long. Still, he had to keep up the illusion that he was unaware. “What is it?”

“Is this you?” Running a hand through his hair, Carlos reached for the door handle again, twisting it this time. It didn’t open. “Shit. Lando, what have you done?”

“What?” 

“Are you playing with me? Keeping me distracted? Locking me in?” 

Lando tried to reach for his chest again, but his hands were pushed away. “I promise, I don’t know what you’re on about.”

“Fuck!” He groaned. “I’ve fucked up so badly.”

“What is it?” Trying to feign curiosity, he was mildly concerned about how Carlos had reacted. He didn’t even seem angry, just upset. 

“Just open the door, please.” 

“Sure?” Lando shuffled to the door, conscious of the fact his trousers were about to fall down. He typed the code in again, and turned the lock. “It’s open.”

“Thank God.” Pulling his gun out of the holster, Carlos began to open the door.

Lando stopped him. “Hey. What about me?” 

The Spaniard looked incredibly stressed, completely lost as to what to do. “Just- just wait here. I will come back and get you once I’ve dealt with this.”

“Okay?” Reaching out, he stroked Carlos’s shoulder gently. “Stay safe, alright?”

Carlos frowned. “I will be back as soon as I can.”

The door swung shut behind him, and Lando was left by himself for the first time in ages. He pulled out the small pedal bin in the corner and sat down on it, re-buttoning his jeans. It was a shame that Carlos had had to leave so early. 

He had no way of knowing what was going on outside, whether or not the hostages had succeeded in their plan. It would be too risky to venture out by himself, given the amount of criminals wandering around the bank with guns, so all he could do would wait. Hopefully the police would come and get him soon, if Valtteri had been successful. But a little part of him hoped, rather embarrassingly, that their plan hadn’t succeeded. That it would be Carlos coming back to rescue him. 

Chapter Text

Controlling his heist crew was a difficult job on the best of days. It was made even trickier for Sebastian when the police tried this tactic- because that’s all it was, a tactic- to try and break their group apart from the inside. He had seen it done before, never to a group he was leading, but he had been in the game long enough to know it happened. And Hamilton had been in the game almost as long, he would be trying anything to bring this to a close prematurely. 

Yuki was devastated, to say the least, and had taken some talking down. Sebastian had finally gotten him to sit in a chair, eating a plate of strawberries, with the promise that he would send Kimi to check on his parents. Realistically, they hadn’t been arrested, there wasn’t enough evidence to warrant that. What they were trying to do, he presumed, was convince him that Pierre had betrayed him, but Yuki was adamant that his friend wouldn’t do that. Sebastian was inclined to believe him. 

How the police had known to target Yuki and Pierre, he didn’t know. Hopefully it was a lucky guess, but it was awfully convenient that they chose one of the closest duos in the team. Something to keep an eye on, for now it was a coincidence, unless anything else came up to convince him the contrary. 

Yuki looked so small sitting on the chair, legs crossed, it was almost like looking at a child. They were all like children to him, really, excluding Fernando of course. He knew they were all highly qualified, he had found them and brought them together for a reason, but it was playing on his mind. His plan would work, his plans always worked, but he worried he was bringing them into too much danger. However, as he kept reminding himself, they were adults and they knew the risks. He would keep them safe, but God forbid something happen, they were not his children. 

It was hard to not get close to them though. 

Yuki finished his strawberries and plastered a somewhat forced smile onto his face. “Thanks.” He muttered, placing the plastic bowl down onto the desk.

“It’s no problem. We will fix it.” Seb patted his hands on the wooden desk. “Plenty of work to be done today.”

“Yay.” Muttered Yuki unenthusiastically, staring down at his lap.

Before Sebastian even had the chance to turn his computer on, there was a gentle knock at the door. He called for whoever it was to come in, and Daniel’s beaming face poked around the door. “Howdy. How’s it going?” 

“It will all be sorted.” Seb smiled in his direction. He clicked the button on the laptop to turn it on, ready to message Kimi as soon as it loaded. 

“Good good.” Pushing the door open more, Daniel leaned slightly on the frame, dark brown eyes shining as he looked the room up and down. “Can we come in? This is the warmest room and he won’t stop shaking.” 

Once again, people kept coming to him with news that wasn’t good. Why nobody could come in and tell him that the Stroll boy was willing to help or somebody had made him a cake, he didn’t know. Presumably the ‘he’ was George, given Daniel had been the one to take him out the room, and he couldn’t imagine anyone else had any reason to be shaking. 

This was confirmed when the Brit entered the room, admittedly walking mainly on his own power this time, but he did not look well, face somehow paler than it had been before. He still had his own laptop with him, the light of its screen shining from where he had propped it under his arm. 

He lowered himself into the corner where the rest of the equipment was with a groan. “I’m alright.” 

Sebastian raised an eyebrow at this. “Are you now?”

“It’s just colder today.” He explained, plugging in his laptop. “And you didn’t have to hear the intercom feed I just had to mute. I’m scarred.”

“Whos intercom-” Seb began to ask, but decided it wasn’t the pressing matter at that moment. Because it wasn’t colder by any means, infact verging more on the side of too warm. “Did you eat anything this morning?”

George shook his head. Of course he hadn’t. “I’m not really hungry.”

“Okay.” After clicking send on the short message he had drafted to Kimi, Seb pushed his seat backwards and stood up, then squated down on the floor next to the young Brit who was shivering again. There was no protest when he lifted his fringe out the way and placed a hand on his forehead. He definitely felt warm, not dangerously so, but warmer than Seb would expect. “Yuki?” Looking up to where the youngest of their crew was sitting, the German smiled as he looked back wairily. “Could you try and make some soup or something for him. Something light.” 

“Sure!” He jumped up with a reinvigorated enthusiasm. 

“Can I have another look, George?” Focusing his attention on the man on the floor again, he waited for him to unbutton his stained shirt. The first aid kit was still under the desk, Daniel helpfully passing it over so Seb could put on a pair of the blue gloves. 

George hissed as he pulled back the hastily done bandages. It didn’t look like he had bled much more, which was good, but the wound itself was surrounded by a bright red that appeared to be spreading further up his side than when he had last looked.

His impression of it must have shown on his face, because George spoke up after a period of silence. “Does it look bad?”

“It’s not good mate.” Daniel replied from where he was peering over Sebastian’s shoulder. 

“What? It can’t be infected already, surely?”

“Well. I’m no doctor.” Staring down at the wound, Seb collected his thoughts. “We will sort it.”

He had a hell of a lot of things to sort. Perks of the job, he supposed. Slowly he reapplied the bandages, sticking it down with another piece of the porous tape. It would have to do its job until he could get something else, because there was very little else in the first aid kit that would be even remotely useful. 

“We’ll see if we can find you some blankets, if you’re cold. And we’ll find somewhere else to work, let you get some more sleep.” As he worked, he continued to explain. 

George looked back at him with a grimace on his face. “I don’t need more sleep. No one else knows how to do this.” 

Unfortunately, he was right. At a push Max could probably operate the tech system, but it wouldn’t be quite as smooth, and he couldn’t imagine that the Dutch man would be able to keep them to such a rigorous schedule. There was little point in arguing anyway, George was already clicking something on the keypad of his laptop.

After sending Daniel back to look after the hostages, Sebastian was able to sit back in his chair and contemplate. There was still much to do, but he wanted a response from Kimi before he tried any more conversation with Yuki, and despite their earlier argument, he did want to speak things through with Fernando. At least get the two of them back on the same page. 

He was just on the verge of worrying that the Spaniard may be on the verge of starting a coup when Daniel’s voice blarred through the earpiece. For a moment his heart stopped and he wondered what else possibly could have gone wrong that morning, but it was the opposite. 

“ Hey Seb, the Stroll kid says he wants to speak with you.”

Finally. Some good news. 

Sebastian met Lance halfway down the stairwell, wrapping an arm gently around the young billionaire who was practically shaking. The look on his face could only be described as stoic as Seb tried to keep him as comfortable as possible whilst leading him up the stairs, but the sweat coming through the back of his shirt gave away any illusion of composure. 

They walked in silence until they were past the door, not wanting to expose the boy infront of his fellow hostages. He tried to keep his face as calm as possible, not scare him anymore, but Lance was coming with him willingly, and did seem to relax a little the further they walked from the main hall. 

“I’ll do it.” Lance whispered when they were approaching the door of the office. “Talk about the stuff my dad’s doing, I mean.” 

He was a good kid really. Seb smiled, and held back the want to pull him into a hug. “Good. Come on, we’ll get everything set up.”

Gently he led Lance into the office and pulled the door shut with a soft thump behind them. The Canadian stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for instruction. “Is he okay?” He asked, pointing to George.

“He’s fine. That’s George, he’ll help with the recording. Say hello, George.”

“Hello George.” There really was no need for George to be so pedantic, but it seemed to amuse him at least. “The camera is in the box over there. I can turn on the CCTV again, but the quality won’t be so good.” 

“The camera will do just fine.” He reached over to pick it up, and was about to set it up when his eyes caught Lance, still standing with his arms wrapped around his midriff anxiously. “Sit down, Lance. We won't bite.”

He muttered something Sebastian couldn’t quite make out under his breath, but took a seat on the plush office chair anyway. He spun from side to side silently as the other two men worked away, getting the recording devices ready. 

Clicking the camera together was easy, setting up the tripod took a little more work. Still, eventually Sebastian was able to work it out, and twist the tangle of wires over to George, who plugged them into the side of his laptop without looking up.

“What exactly do you want me to say?” Asked Lance, after bearing the silence for long enough.

Stopping what he was doing, Seb leant over the desk and stared directly in his eyes. “The truth. Tell them what your father has been doing. Tell them you don’t support it. People will be on your side. Oh, and it would be nice if you could let them know how nicely we’re treating you.”

Lance nodded slowly.

“Camera’s good to go.” 

“Lovely. Are you ready, Mr Stroll?” He angled the camera round, finger hovering over the record button.

Running a hand through his hair, Lance sat up straight in the chair. “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“Excellent.” He smiled, and started recording.

Lance was better than anything Sebastian could have imagined. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t seem the talkative type anyway, and what he did say was perfect. Gently introduced himself, spoke briefly about the bank heist, then got into the details of his father’s deforestation escapades. It didn’t seem forced, didn’t look like he was being held at gunpoint. Seb felt weirdly proud. Slowly, he was getting what he wanted. 

The world was going to go wild over this heist.

When Lance had finished speaking, Seb waited a moment before stopping the video. “Well done. You were perfect.”

“Thanks. I don’t, you know, agree with what my dad’s doing. There’s more to life than money, and he’s going to hurt a lot of people with his newest plan.”

“You’re a good man. Thank you.” He held out a hand, and Lance tentatively shook it. “You know, I wasn’t sure you would help us. But I am very glad.”

After shaking his hand for a little too long, Lance cleared his throat. “What are you going to do with the video? Will my dad-”

“He will definitely see it. We are all over the news, it will spread like a plague.”

He frowned. “Okay.”

“I am sorry. You will be okay. You are stronger than you think.” It was almost like he was adopting another child. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep getting attached. “When you get out, I’m happy for you to pretend to your father that I forced you to say those things. If that would help?” 

Although it looked like Lance was about to reply, it was not his voice but George’s that filled the silence, as there was a cough from the corner. “Seb, not to interrupt, but Pierre is being very loud through the radio and I’m not sure-”

“Let me speak to him.” It was probably nonsense, but it would quell any worries if he could talk to Pierre directly. 

George clicked twice on his keyboard, and the sound of heavy breathing filled Seb’s ears. He was worried he was hearing something he shouldn’t do for a moment, then he caught on to the shouts in the background. 

“Gasly, what's happening?” His hand pressed the earpiece in to unmute himself. 

Nothing came through for a second except more panting breaths, and Seb could feel the panic starting to rise in his stomach that something bad was happening.

“Fuck.” That was not a good response. Just when things were finally going well. “The hostages- fuck-”

That was enough for Seb. It didn’t sound like he was going to get a run down of the problem, but whatever it was, it sounded like it needed sorting immediately. 

He briefly saw the look on George’s face, and figured he didn’t have to explain anything any further. Nearly kicking the camera over, he pulled his gun into his hand and speed walked towards the door. There was no consideration to take Lance with him, and it wasn’t like the young Canadian would be much of a threat, so he would have to come back and get him later. 

Neither of them tried to stop him as he ran out the door, leaving it swinging behind him.

Blood was pulsing in his ears as his legs ran him to the main hall before his brain could tell him where to go. It was a thumping sound, matching with the rabbity beat of his heart in his chest, racing at a hundred miles an hour. 

As he pushed his way into the room with a bang, his eyes ran over the scene in mere seconds. Hostages were gathered more towards the edges of the room, a few of them looking in his direction with panicked glances as he entered. His gaze didn’t linger with them for long, as it followed over to the centre of the incident, where all the noise was coming from. 

Pierre was there, wrestling on the floor with one of the hostages- the dark haired model, Zhou. Sebastian had tried hard to learn their names, to humanise himself to them. Evidently it hadn’t worked, because they were in the midst of a fight. He wouldn’t have thought Zhou would be the man to start a fight, and it didn’t seem like he was winning. Pierre seemed to be getting it under control, despite his dropped gun across the floor from him, as he was slowly twisting the Chinese man round and was pulling his hands behind his back. 

Just as he thought it was an incident on its way to calm down, he spotted the much quieter problem, hidden behind the two of them. Valtteri was not fighting, at least not anymore, but he was sitting with his back turned. Sitting on top of something, an unmoving lump on the floor. Sitting on top of someone.  

It felt like the thumping of his heart stopped when he realised who that someone was. Daniel. He couldn’t see his face, but his form was impossible to miss.

“Fuck.” He muttered as he ran forwards, just about having enough sense to command through the earpiece, “Everyone to the main hall. Now.”

Fortunately none of the other hostages tried to stop him as he sprinted across the centre of the hall, bee-lining it to Daniel. There was no movement, nothing reassuring coming from the direction of the usually full to the brim of energy man. He just hoped he wasn’t too late, hoped that Pierre had gotten to the room early enough that they stood a chance. That his worst fears weren’t coming true.

He barreled into Valtteri with his full body weight, pushing the Finn to the floor with a thump. He shouted something back at him, something that sounded like an apology but Sebastian didn’t hear it. His hands flew to Daniels cheeks, taking them into his hand and tapping lightly, looking for some response. There was none. His eyes remained shut. 

“ Scheiße . Come on.” He pleaded as his hands wandered down and pulled off the now loosened string of shoelaces from around his neck. He chucked it to the side, away from Valtteri who didn’t make any more attempts to fight. “Wake up. Shit.”

“It wasn’t meant to hurt him.” Valtteri’s voice filtered through the ringing in his ears. “We just had to try. I am sorry, we-”

“Shut up!” Seb was shouting. He hadn’t wanted to shout infront of the hostages, but he couldn’t stop it from coming out. Ignoring them, he leant his face down over Daniels mouth and waited.

It was a relief to feel the light warmth of an exhale on his cheek, and he could see the faint rise of his chest. Up and down. Seb watched it cycle through twice, happy that he was at least breathing. 

“Is he okay?” Asked Pierre. Sebastian looked up briefly to see that he had finally gotten control of his fight, and was sat ontop of Zhou, pinning his hands behind his back. “I don’t know what happened, I just walked in and they were going mad.”

“He’s breathing.” Staring down at the man, he willed for some other movement. “Why was he by himself? I said a minimum of two with the hostages.”

“I don’t know who was meant to be with him.” Pierre loosened his grip a little as he turned his head and looked at the open doorway. Yuki was the only one who had managed to get into the hall with any sort of urgency. He was quick, but the others should have at least been hot on his tail. Where had he gotten to. “Yuki, get that guy over there, he’s got Daniel’s keys.”

“What happened?” He asked as he ran over, a look of confusion on his face that turned to panic when he spotted Daniel. “Oh my God.”

The ‘guy’ in question that Yuki was running to was Checo. He must have been trying the doors, but he had made little progress with the locks, and silently kicked the keys over to Yuki as soon as a gun was raised at him. He had sense at least, unlike some of the hostages. Yuki picked the keys up, and lowered the gun away from the surrendering Mexican.

It was distracting enough that Sebastian almost missed the quiet groan from underneath him. His eyes dropped back to Daniel, who rolled his head to the side slowly. “Hey, Danny. You’re okay, open your eyes for me.”

He didn’t open his eyes, but he did groan again, louder this time, and lift a hand up to slowly feel around his neck. “Fuck me.” He whispered, voice cracking but it was reassuring to hear regardless. 

“Holy shit. I said it was a bad idea to have that breakfast.” Finally, another one of his group made himself known, Max taking things as seriously as ever, but there was a hint of concern in his voice. 

“Can you help us, please, Verstappen. Get these hostages into smaller groups. And where are the others?” Seb asked, helping Daniel to slowly sit up as he did, the Australian grimicing with his hand around his throat. “Charles? Carlos? Fernando? Did they get lost?”

“I am here.” With sunglasses still on, Fernando smiled menacingly. “I was not lost. I walked.”

So he was still holding a grudge. Unsurprising, really.

The Spaniard strolled in slowly, and made his way to Sebastian. He paused, patting Seb’s shoulder softly and nodded to Daniel, who didn’t respond. Then, even more disconcertingly, he exhaled deeply and looked Valtteri up and down slowly, from head to toe. “It was this one, I presume?”

“Fernando. Don’t-”

He laughed. “He cannot stay, Seb. I will make it quick.”

That was not going to happen. No matter how much the hostages had upset him and betrayed his conscience, he was not going to allow whatever Fernando’s plan was to come to fruition. Daniel was okay, mostly, and he had to have some sympathy for the group of them. In their position, they would not be unreasonable to assume their only way out was to fight. 

Fortunately, he did not have to argue long with Fernado, as his saviour came in the form of the other Spaniard. Carlos entered the room with mouth hung slightly open in berwildement, and a flush to his cheeks like he had been running. He didn’t get a chance to be filled in on the situation before he was given his orders. 

“Carlos, please take our two friends here and introduce them to the cleaning cupboard. Let them think about what they’ve done.” 

He was met with a confused expression, Carlos’s brown eyes wide.

“Just lock these two in the cupboard, please, whilst I sort this out.” He explained more simply. “Charles can help.” He added, spotting the monegasque coming round the corner with equally flushed cheeks. Surely they had not both had that far to travel. 

“What are we doing?” Charles asked, although came forward to help regardless. 

“Stopping things from getting worse.” Pierre grumbled as he released Zhou, passing him over to Carlos. 

“Cool.” Shrugging, Charles held his gun out at arms length and gestured for Valtteri to stand. Willingly the Finn did. Seb wouldn’t have been surprised if he had some regret for taking the attack too far. 

“I wasn’t going to hurt him. Not badly.” Explained Fernando, leaning much too close for comfort towards Sebastian. 

Seb sighed. “You know that is not how we are doing it. Not this time. And besides, I want to speak to you. We need to talk about our argument earlier.”

“I would hardly call it-”

“Just help me get Daniel somewhere safe.” Looking around, it seemed the rest of the hall had calmed down. “You have this under control, right?”

Max nodded, directing the hostages into tiny groups around the room. “Sure.”

“Thank you. Call if anything happens, okay. I’ll take Daniel to the office.”

“I’ll bring up some soup!” Piped up Yuki, surprisingly cheery for a man who was brandishing a pistol around wildly. 

Daniel nodded and gave a silent thumbs up in the young japanese man’s direction, and allowed Seb to pull him to his feet. He was wobbly, but could stand by himself. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any lasting effects of the attack, it would be difficult to manage without Daniel there. 

Fernando didn’t help them up the stairs, but he followed behind the two of them slowly. Despite the obvious pain, Daniel was still forcing himself to speak, joking about what had happened. Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to react with anything more than a polite laugh. Fernando was eerily silent. 

Outside the office stood Lance, as awkwardly as usual, and he practically jumped out his skin when he saw the group approaching. He backed off slowly, stepping down the corridor two steps. “I was just going to see what was happening. And the other guy fell asleep and I didn’t want to wake him up and-”

“It’s fine, Lance. Calm down.” Sebastian really didn’t feel like dealing with the Canadians' woes at that moment. “Go back downstairs.”

There was no one to accompany him, but Seb felt like he could be trusted. Where else was he going to go? Well, plenty of places, and given the events of the last half hour he probably shouldn’t have been so quick to trust, but he got the feeling that Lance wouldn’t risk it. To be safe he shot a quick message through the intercom, letting the others know he was on his way. 

In the office George was, infact, fast asleep, neck bent over in a position which couldn’t have been comfortable. They were quiet enough not to wake him as Seb made sure Daniel was sitting safely in the leather chair, and had a glass of water poured out for him. It was only a cough from Daniel that woke him, the Brit stirring with a groan. 

“I’m not- I wasn’t sleeping.” He muttered, shifting the laptop off his lap sleepily and looking up blearily at Daniel. “What happened to you?” 

“Shoelace.” Whispered Daniel, gesturing to his neck. “What are you creating here, Seb? Some sort of hospital ward?” 

It was an astute observation, but Sebastian didn’t even try to laugh this time. “Get some rest, please. You were-” he didn’t want to say close to death, but that was the truth. If Pierre hadn’t  gotten there, if he had been a little bit slower, things could have been very different. “Anyway. Just sit for a bit. Make sure you’re not dizzy.”

“My head is fucking killing me, to be fair.” He leant back in the chair and shut his eyes, then added, sensing the concern in the air, “I’ll live.”

“Keep an eye on each other, please. Yuki will be up soon.” Grabbing his laptop, Seb gave them one last look over. “We can fix this.” 

He had to wonder how many things he could promise to fix before it became impossible to actually solve any of the problems. 

“Come on.” Fernando wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I found some nice seats around the corner. You need a break too.” 

Perhaps Fernando was right. He was a little stressed. Following the Spaniard felt unnatural, and outside of a heist he wouldn’t have been out of his mind to hold a mild suspicion at the action, but as long as they were all working together, he knew he was safe. He had known Fernando for years, and although they had had their ups and downs, they were in a relatively good place.

He wasn’t sure where Fernando had found the set of chairs, they were a plush velvet set with a small coffee table, hidden round the corner of the corridor. Presumably they were a waiting point for important customers, but it didn’t really matter to him as he took a seat on the farthest one and sighed. 

Next to him Fernando also let out a deep sigh. “We have been in this business a long time.”

Seb laughed and looked up at him. “Are you calling me old?”

He laughed back. “Perhaps. But moreover I wanted to apologise. I did not mean to undermine you.”

It was difficult to tell if Fernando was telling the truth, but there would be no point in arguing further. They had to keep working together, afterall. “Thank you. And I apologise for shouting. I just want this to work.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It is not going to plan?”

“Minor hiccups.” Seb sighed, and leant his face forwards into his hands. “Nothing I can’t solve. We just need to get things back on track.”

“Talk to me.” 

“Daniel was barely breathing when I got to him, and the hostages are already tense enough to try and plan an escape. I think George has an infection, and we didn’t bring any antibiotics with us, and there is no way Lewis will give us them for nothing. And I think something is wrong with Charles, but he won't speak with me and I just can’t work out what’s up.” Sighing again, Seb lifted his head and met eyes with Fernando, who looked genuinely interested in his rant. “Plus all this shit with Yuki and Pierre that they are trying to stir.”

“You should tell me these things, you know. I am your second in command for a reason.” Fernando patted his back again. It stung a little. 

Sebastian pushed his hand off slowly, and smiled. “I know. I will.”

“So how can I help?” 

“Right now? I’m not sure.” Listening to him vent had been one of the more useful things Fernando had done so far in the heist. Whilst he spoke he turned his laptop on, content with the seating area being his workspace for a little while. “If you could just keep the others under control whilst I work out a plan of action to speak with Lewis. I just worry that something else is going to blow up.”

“It will. But we will leave with the money, in the end.” He was leaning over to look at the laptop screen, Seb knew what he was doing. “How many times have we done this? We are old hands, Seb, we can manage these problems.”

“Thanks.” It must have sounded disingenuous, but he was concentrating on typing his password in.

Fernando pointed to the screen as soon as it loaded, fingertip touching the glass and leaving a print. “Kimi has replied.” 

Deciding that it wasn’t worth explaining that he had spotted the notification and pointing it out wasn’t helping, Seb clicked the messenger app open. Kimi was underneath the snowman emoji, surprisingly his own choice, but an acceptable codename nonetheless. One of many things they had done to keep the computer system safe. 

Not safe enough, apparently. It was getting difficult to count how many times his heart had sunk that morning. Kimi, in his infinite talkativeness, has only sent a two word reply to the paragraph of information he had been sent. Just two words, no further elaboration. 

‘Police here.’ 

“Fuck.” Seb slammed the laptop shut. “How did they get onto the computer?”

For a moment, Fernando said nothing. Then he spoke up, placing a hand gently on the top of the machine. “What if they didn’t?”

“What do you mean?” He asked, although he had a feeling he knew what the answer was going to be.

Fernando smiled menacingly again. “What if we have a traitor in our midst?”

Sebastian didn’t want to believe it. He had selected all of his group, and done extensive background checks on them all. There was not one of them that he believed could betray them. But it would be naive for him to ignore the evidence. The police were there within moments of the initial explosion, it was far too quick to be natural and it was what had led to George getting shot. The hostage negotiators had extensive knowledge of the inner workings of the group, they knew that Yuki and Pierre were a friendship to target. And now Kimi. The only people who had been in the room when Fernando had revealed his existence had been his heist crew. It was too much of a coincidence to ignore. 

“Then I think I have a job for you.” 

“Finally.” He chuckled. “I can have some fun.”

Chapter Text

It wasn’t that Logan was bad at his job. If anything, it was probably the opposite. Hell, he was the top of his class in his training programme. He was close to getting perfect scores on his final assessments. He had put everything into getting through the police academy, because ever since he was a child he had wanted to be a police officer. 

He just hadn’t expected to be struggling so much.  Maybe it was just because it was his first job. And it was a weird one at that, a very niche role following a gang of known bank robbers, a job that had only been introduced months before he got his position there. And Alex was nice, he was really nice, but he was loud and chatty and sociable in a way Logan just wasn’t. 

It didn’t help that the heist had happened way sooner than any of them could have predicted. He hadn’t had a chance to get settled before he was right on the front line. Thrown in at the deep end before he had even had a chance to read the guidelines. Alex had assured him he could do it, and nobody had given him any complaints so far, but he just felt like he was doing it wrong. Maybe he needed more self confidence. 

It was good to work with other people, at least. He had been stuck in an office with only Alex for weeks, and that man had a poor sense of humour. It had been difficult to make any other friends. 

Esteban was nice. Intense. But nice. Lewis was nice too, although it had to be said that working under the most famous officer in the force was a little stressful. The mood in the control room was good, most of the time. Lewis was late a lot, but he had to be busy with paperwork and things in the background. Esteban spoke a lot of French when he was angry- Logan had never learnt French, but he was sure the insults were never directed at him. And Alex was always looking out for him. Even if he seemed a little more stressed than usual. 

It had been a weird morning. Esteban had phoned the hostages, which was a bad idea, but nobody had listened to him when he suggested it. Later on Lewis had bought him a hot chocolate, which was a nice gesture, and then he and Alex had promptly disappeared, following some lead. He had been left in charge of Alex’s work, minus the communications with the informant. Even Logan wasn’t allowed to talk to the informant. Still, it felt like a lot of responsibility. He wasn’t sure what he would do if anything happened. 

He had pretended to click things on Alex’s laptop for a while and checked through the limited CCTV they had for as long as he could. In the far corner Esteban was organising the patrols over the radio whilst searching through the word document Logan had created on each of the attackers. Mainly reading about Gasly. He would have joked that he was obsessed, but he didn’t really feel close enough to him to try. 

It was getting near to lunchtime and they still hadn’t heard back from Lewis and Alex. Maybe he should have been worried, but he didn’t really know how long things like this took. There was only so much waiting and worrying that he was missing something important. Things must have been happening in the bank. And Logan was absolutely useless to stop anything bad from happening. 

After what felt like hours, a face popped through the plastic of the entrance. It was one of the officers on the outside of the tent. Logan had never been introduced to him. Still, he seemed to know Logan (or at least didn’t know his rank), because he spoke directly to him. 

“Hey, Sargeant?”

Logan looked around to see why it was him in particular that was being addressed. Esteban was gone. Shit. “Hey? How can I help?” He asked, hoping it would be something easy. 

“This guy is here, wanting to speak to Hamilton? And he’s pretty insistent, says he knows him personally?” By the looks of things, this junior officer had had enough of whatever trouble this visitor was giving them. 

“Oh cool. Well Lewis isn’t here, but I guess I can speak to him?” Pausing the video he had playing on the laptop, he stood up and brushed himself down. “Is he outside?”

“No, well, funny story-”

The poor officer was unable to finish his sentence before a new figure stook his head into the tent and smiled wide at Logan. “You must be Logan!” The man stepped in without invitation. His accent was foreign, Logan couldn’t quite place it but it was presumably Northern European judging by the almost white mop of blonde hair on his head. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Logan had to wonder how much he could have heard about him. He hadn’t exactly given a lot away about himself, especially not to Lewis. “Hi- I don’t know if you should-”

The man came into the room regardless, and sat down on one of the desk chairs, making himself immediately relaxed. “It’s okay, don’t worry. Is Lewis here?” 

“No, he’s out.” It was a little concerning. This guy did seem like he knew Lewis, but he felt like he was going to get into trouble for just letting random people into the control room. 

The man smiled. “Ah. Shame. I brought him his lunch. He left it behind this morning.” Rifling through his shoulder bag, he pulled out a glass tupperware box. “Do you think you could give it to him?”

Nodding Logan reached over and took the box. It looked like some sort of salad. He put it down on the desk beside him. 

“So has it been a busy day?” Evidently, he was not planning on leaving any time soon. “Sorry, my manners. I’m Nico.”

“Hi.”

“And don’t worry about the whole reporter thing, this is a personal visit.” He smiled again, showing off his teeth this time. If he did work for the news, Logan had never heard of him. Maybe it was a behind the scenes thing. 

“No, it’s fine, we just don’t normally let people back here. There’s a lot of sensitive information.” Looking around, he checked the large screens to make sure there was nothing too important to be viewed. Fortunately it didn’t look like anything critical. 

Nico shrugged. “I understand. It’s okay, just check with Lewis when he’s back. He thinks you’re very good, by the way.”

This perked Logan up. “Really?”

“Of course. Well, he knows you’re new, but apparently you’re doing a great job. Top marks.” The accent was German, Logan was pretty sure. And the position he sat in, wrist cocked slightly to the side, exuded pure confidence. He had to wonder who this guy was to Lewis. He certainly had his suspicions. 

“Well thanks. That means a lot, actually.”

“His words, not mine. I was hoping to meet you all, to be honest. It’s not like Lewis has all that many work friends. We were talking about going out for drinks some evening, with Alex and Esteban as well.” Nico leant back further in the chair, not even looking at Logan as he spoke. 

Going for drinks with his coworkers and a man who was presumably his boss’s boyfriend didn’t exactly sound like the best evening out, but it would certainly beat sitting on his parents couch and playing video games. “Sounds good. Are you planning on staying-”

Laughing, Nico sat up. “Sorry, sorry. I know you’re busy, and I don’t want to mess up any of this police business. I’ll be off, just tell Lewis I said hi, please?”

“Will do.” His voice came out like he was doubting the fact he would mention it, but even if he couldn’t pluck up the courage to tell Lewis himself, he was one hundred percent going to talk to Alex, and Alex would not be able to resist bullying their boss. 

“Was nice to meet you, Logan.” Almost bowing, Nico smiled, then sauntered out the door. It was like he disappeared almost as quickly as he arrived. 

Collecting himself, Logan stared down at the desk in front of him. There was very little in his mind, other than that was weird . Because it was, it was weird. There was a feeling of anxiety in his stomach, worse than normal, and he couldn’t place why it was there. 

“What’s up with you?” Esteban made him jump. The tall french man was standing right behind him, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. 

“Huh?” Twisting his neck round, Logan looked up at him. “Nothing. It’s fine. Where have you been?”

“Just in the toilet? Why? Is everything alright?” 

He was going to think that Logan couldn’t handle things if he complained. That he couldn’t even be trusted to be left alone for a few minutes. “Nothing has changed. Well, at least as much as we can see. The cameras are still down.” 

“Shitheads.” Thankfully, Esteban stepped further back and threw himself onto his chair. “Lewis and Alex are on their way back.”

“Cool.” That was golden to Logan’s ears. He was desperate for Alex’s support. “How was their trip?” 

“Pretty cool by the sounds of it. Lewis mentioned getting shot at.”

“Shot?” It did fill him with worry, even though he was sure someone would say if someone had been injured. He wasn’t sure that he’d be the first to know, though. 

Esteban laughed. “Apparently the guy they went to see is notorious for it. Alex will fill you in on it all.” 

“Sure.” He didn’t smile as he went back to his computer.

Alex didn’t fill him in. Not initially, at least. The two of them swanned in, throwing their bags down with exhausted looks on their faces. It was barely even lunch time, far too early for them to look so tired. It must have really kicked off.

Before sitting back down, Alex ran past and ruffled Logan’s hair. It was familiar, like he used to do back when it was just the two of them in their office. Other than that he didn’t say a word. And Lewis gave him little more than a short smile. There was no time to mention Nico, and even if he was going to say something, he wanted to check first that he wasn’t going to get into trouble for it. 

Whilst Lewis was getting the brief handover from Esteban, Alex sat down on the seat facing Logan, pulling his computer out with a frown on his face. 

“Are you alright?” Asked Logan quietly. 

Looking up at him, Alex gave a forced smile. “Yeah, it’s just been a busy shift.” 

“So far. Plenty of time for things to get worse.” He pointed out.

Alex didn’t laugh, typing something on his keyboard. The light of the laptop screen that nobody except Alex was permitted to see was reflected in the dark brown of his eyes. “Day’s still young, I guess.” 

Logan didn’t know whether to laugh at that. He settled on an awkward giggle. 

The rest of the morning was spent in relative silence. He hadn’t expected there to be so much computer work involved in the job, but it really was a lot of admin. Alex looked too busy to ask about what had happened earlier, but he did pass his body camera over for Logan to upload onto the system. That would have at least let him see what had happened, without having to bother anyone. 

Except he didn’t get a chance to watch the video. At precisely eleven minutes past twelve, the central phone rang. Unscheduled. 

It wasn’t just Logan that jumped out of his skin. Alex and Esteban stood up automatically and turned to the sound, and he followed suit obediently. 

Lewis looked unphased. Logan wasn’t even sure that he could be phased. He strode up to the phone, fingers hovering over the plastic as he allowed it to ring. 

“Is it just Sebastian who can call through that?” Logan piped up, fortunately nobody seemed to mind his question.

Esteban nodded, but didn’t speak. 

Lewis continued to let the phone ring. “And he doesn’t call for nothing. So either this is a trick. Or we’re about to have our first proper win.” He looked at the three of them. “Ready?” 

After waiting for them each to reply, Lewis gently pressed the speaker button, and lifted the headset out of the phone. 

“Seb.” It was impressive, the familiarity with that he held in his voice. “How’s it going?” 

“Excellent. Thank you. How’s the outside world?” Sebastian also sounded impressively calm. Logan didn’t think he would have been able to hide the shake in his voice if he has been a part of this conversation.

“We’re doing just fine.” 

Not really knowing what to do with himself, Logan just stood and listened. Esteban was desperately calibrating the recording system, whilst Alex continued to trawl through his laptop and phone for whatever information he could bring. He felt a little useless, but he was sure someone would tell him what to do if he was needed. 

“ Shall I cut to the chase, Lewis? Skip the pleasantries?” 

It was impossible to even predict what he was going to say. It was exciting, the build up of it. Logan could feel his heart beating in his chest. 

Raising an eyebrow, Lewis replied with a smile on his face. “Go for it. How can I help?” 

There was a sign from the other end of the line. “ We need medical supplies.”

There was a physical drop as the mood in the room darkened.

“What for, Seb? You know how this works, I’m trusting you to keep them all safe.” Though his voice was relaxed, Lewis had begun to frown. 

“ It’s not for the hostages. It’s for one of mine.” 

“What?” Alex whispered behind him, but was ignored. 

“I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s happened. I’m happy to help your men, I can send in a medic.” 

Seb gave a grunt of displeasure. “ No. No one comes into the bank. Some antibiotics and some dressings. Please. I wouldn’t ask unless I needed it .” 

“I will get them to you.“ Lewis scribbled something down on a pad of paper. “Which of your men is it for?” 

“ You know everything about us, and don’t remember who you shot? ” 

Lewis looked to Logan. He couldn’t remember seeing anyone getting shot in any of the footage he had seen. He could only shrug in response. 

“It’s a trick.” Alex whispered again, scrolling through his phone now instead of his computer. “We would know, I would know, if one of them had been shot.” 

“I don’t know, he sounds pretty genuine.” Whispered Logan back again, because the criminal did sound worried. 

Alex, however, didn’t back down. “It’s not. He’s lying.” 

“ Lewis?” 

“I’ll get you whatever you need.” Lewis mouthed a sorry to Alex, who was typing aggressively. “But I want ten hostages in return.”

Seb paused, and for a moment Logan was convinced he had hung up. “ Five. And we need the supplies this afternoon.” 

“Deal. We’ll exchange them at the main entrance in three hours.”

“ Always a pleasure, Lewis.”

A high pitched squeaking noise followed, and Lewis clicked the phone off. He ran a hand backwards through his braids, and smiled. “It’s progress.” 

“Get some hostages out, sounds like a win.” Esteban had a smile on his face as well. He had a point, that was their aim. Get as many of the hostages out as they could in as little time as possible. 

Alex was still lost in his technology. “I really think something is wrong. They’re making it up, I promise-“ 

“Alex.” Lewis leant over and rubbed a hand on his back. “I know Seb. This isn’t a game of his.” 

“No. Because-“ Sighing, Alex closed his laptop. “Can I go make a phone call? Or just sort some things in private?”

Nodding, Lewis had a gentle look on his face. He must have known more about the situation than Logan did, perks of being the boss presumably, because he had spent months with Alex and still barely knew what he did. “Just keep it low-key, okay?”

“Yeah.” Almost dropping all of his possessions, Alex hurried himself out of the tent. “Yeah. I’ll keep you updated.” 

“Should I follow him?” Logan asked, directing his question to Lewis. He certainly wasn’t acting like his usual self.

The older man shook his head. “Give him half an hour.”

“Cool.” It came out sounding slightly dejected, but he wasn’t going to ignore direct orders, even if he was worried about Alex. He was sensible enough to deal with whatever this problem was by himself. Still, Logan made a mental note to check in with him later.

“So are we getting him his things or-?” Piped up Esteban.

“Absolutely, yeah.” Lewis’s eyes were scanning the room. “We should get on with that, actually.”

“I’ll phone resources.”

As Esteban filtered away, Lewis and Logan were the only two within close proximity. Unsure whether he should speak up, Logan waited a little too long before saying anything.“It’s really impressive, you know, the -uh- talking you do on the phone with Seb and-“ 

Lewis chuckled, looking down at his lap like he was embarrassed. “Thanks. It just comes with time, you’ll get there.” 

“Oh, I have a-“ Fumbling over to his own desk, he picked up the small tupperware box and held it out. “It’s yours, brought in earlier by-“

“Nico?” Laughing again, Lewis smiled wide enough to show off the gap between his front teeth. “He came here?” 

“Yeah, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I hope he didn’t scare you too much?” He tucked the box away into his shoulder bag. 

“He seemed nice.” 

“I’m glad.” Leaning over, Lewis patted his hand twice. “Good to have you on board, Logan.”

When he was left alone again, Logan could feel his cheeks flush, and couldn’t hold back his grin. He might have felt useless, and he still didn’t really know what he was doing. But slowly and surely, he was becoming a part of this team. And, more importantly, the team was happy to have him there. 

It had been a long time since he had felt so good.

Chapter Text

“You know that rule. That Seb said when we were training? About not having relationships?”

Carlos’s breath caught in his throat. Whatever small talk he had expected Charles to make, it hadn’t been that. He stopped walking, midway through the corridor, as they were making their way back to the main hall. 

“What do you mean?” He knew that he was holding his emotions on his face, mouth open slightly. But somehow, Charles was onto him. And he had to make sure he was safe, and more importantly Lando was safe.

Fortunately, Charles also could not hide his expressions. The man looked spooked as anything. “No. It is nothing. Sorry.” 

“You cannot say something like that and then tell me it is nothing.” Holding out an arm, Carlos stopped Charles in his tracks and directed him towards the wall. Maybe he was being a little too threatening, but to be fair the man was easily threatened. 

He pushed Carlos’s hand off. “Mate. I wasn’t propositioning you. Get off.” 

“Sorry.” He let go, hand lingering a second as he took in the look of Charles. His eyes stopped on something that filled him with relief. The skin on the underside of his turned-up collars was flushed a dark purple. Carlos couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Oh you naughty boy.”

“Shut up.”

“Is that why you took so long to get to the main hall? Seb will not be happy.” He rolled his eyes and began to walk again. “Who was it then?”

Carlos did have his suspicions. It was either Pierre or Max. And asking about it kept the heat off himself. Because Charles certainly hadn’t slept with a hostage. That would have been a really bad idea.

“It’s so stupid.” Dodging the question, Charles sighed. “I’m so stupid.”

“Come on, we’re friends, no? You can tell me.” 

Perhaps ‘friends’ was pushing it. Charles certainly seemed to think so, judging by the look on his face. “I’m not going to tell you. Is it obvious? On my neck?”

“A bit, yeah.” It was glaringly bruised now that Carlos had noticed it. He couldn’t imagine Seb would notice it straight away, especially not with everything else going on, and even if he did, Charles could do no wrong in his eyes. He didn’t know why he was so worried. “Maybe find some makeup somewhere, I don’t know.” 

Charles’s hand glanced over his sleeve. “Carlos. Don’t tell anyone please.” 

Shrugging, Carlos began to walk back down the corridor. Charles skipped to catch up with him. He wasn’t planning on telling anybody, he really had no need to. But, in the back of his mind, he knew it was something to store for later. Charles was trustworthy, as far as he knew, but it was never a bad idea to have a small piece of blackmail when you’re working with criminals. “Sure.”

“No, Carlos, I mean it.” He stopped walking, looked directly at Carlos with his big watery eyes. The expression on his face was gravely serious. “Your trousers are still undone, by the way. You might want to fix that.”

Carlos felt his cheeks flush, mouth opening slightly as Charles gave him a sickly sweet smile, and walked off without further comment. It made sense, at least, why the younger man had been so eager to talk to him. They were, presumably, in similar situations. And although he wasn’t 100% certain, it was likely that Carlos had gotten himself into much deeper shit. 

His heart rate had sped up again, and he was suddenly aware of it. There was no way of knowing how much Charles knew- how much anybody knew. He could have fucked up really badly, and it wouldn’t just be him that faced the consequences. 

Lando. He had left him behind in the changing room, assuming that there would be a time to free him subtly. But it didn’t seem like waiting was an option anymore. 

As soon as he was sure Charles was far enough away, the Spaniard spun on his heels and speed-walked back through the corridor, trying to remember the way back to the room as quickly as possible. He slowed his journey only when he was going past the cleaning cupboard where they’d locked Bottas and Zhou, checking that the door was still shut. It was, thankfully, and he could hear the two of them chatting quietly. One less thing to worry about.  

“Lando.” He whispered when he reached the changing room, face pressed to the door. He tried the handle, but it was locked again. “Lando, it's me.” He tried again, louder this time, when he got no response. “Lando, for fuck’s sake, open the door.”

Panic began to set in properly, although illogical in the time frame, his mind began to convince him that Lando was gone. Someone worse than Charles had found out. Fernando had found out. 

He released his breath with a sigh when he heard the click of the lock. Lando’s little face peered around the door cautiously. “Hey.”

“Shit.” Pulling Lando forwards into his chest, Carlos rested his head in the curls of hair and sighed again. “I thought we had been found out.”

Lando lifted his head and kissed him gently. “What happened?” He asked after eventually pulling away.

“Some of the hostages attacked Daniel. It was pretty bad, I think.”

Fingers ran through Carlos’s hair as Lando stared up at him. “Is he okay?”

“He is fine. It’s all back under control.” Hands on Lando’s shoulders, he pushed him backwards gently to look him up and down properly. “You are sure you’re okay?”

Lando giggled. “I’m fine. I nearly fell asleep. Can we stay here? For a bit, I don’t fancy going back to that hall.” 

It did sound much more tempting than going back. But they were mid-heist, he couldn’t keep getting distracted by Lando, not when the risk was so high. “Not here, I’m sorry.”

“Can I take you for a drink?” 

“What? Now?”

“Just in the kitchen.” He explained, “I’ve got a water bottle there that’s full of vodka and-”

“Don’t ruin the mood too much.” Laughed Carlos, because of course Lando was sneaking alcohol into work. “But yes, you can take me for a drink.”

“Lovely.” Lando kissed him again, quicker this time. “It’s a date.”

They held hands as they walked. Carlos kept trying to stop him, pull his hand off, explaining that it wasn’t safe, but Lando could not be convinced otherwise. He gave up eventually, letting the two of them walk together like they were on a prom date. It would have been romantic in any other scenario, and he relaxed into it the closer they got to the kitchen. 

His palms felt slightly clammy, perhaps from nerves or perhaps from something greater. It was a contrast to Lando’s soft skin, it was like he had never worked a day in his life. Which would have been surprising, given that he was a security guard and ex-police rookie, but Carlos was more and more getting the impression that Lando didn’t have the greatest work ethic. 

One of the lights in the hallway was flickering. It took his mind away from Lando briefly, and back to the heist. Their footsteps were all he could hear, however, and whatever anxiety soons settled when he looked down to Lando, the younger man beaming as he swung their linked arms.

The kitchen was, once again, occupied. The sound of pans clanging, an extractor fan whirring and out-of-tune signing could only point to one man. That and the fact that the kitchen seemed to have become Yuki’s second home. Carlos stopped, slowing down Lando’s brisk walk as he did. 

“Why are we stopping?” Asked Lando, tugging at Carlos’s hand. “Come on.”

“Landito, Yuki is in there. We could-”

Lando scoffed. “What, the little guy? Isn’t he, like, chill?”

A common misconception, because Yuki was undoubtbly one of the least ‘chill’ of the crew. Despite this, however, he was certainly the least likely to care about Lando being there. As good as he was at his job, he was very much a rules are made to be broken type, and Carlos couldn’t imagine him snitching on this. Maybe he could be a good alibi if Seb or Fernando were to find out. Tell them that nothing untoward was happening. 

He sighed. “Okay, but let me go first.”

The kitchen smelt amazing. It was almost a shame that Yuki decided to go into munitions, because he could have made a decent enough living with a restaurant. He was stirring a pot of something orange, a spicy smelling mix that Carlos had no clue where he’d gotten the ingredients for to make it. Presumably some sort of soup, it bubbled up over the edge of the saucepan and spilt onto the top of the hob.

The younger man stopped humming along to whatever he was singing, and looked up to Carlos with a confused expression. “Oh. Hey Carlos.”

“Hello, Yuki. May we come in?” He pushed the door open with his foot, revealing more of the hallway to the young Japanese man. Looking over his shoulder, he checked Lando was still there, which he fortunately was, waving politely to Yuki.

“Sure!” He seemed completely unphased by Lando’s presence. “Hi! I’m Yuki.”

“Lando.” Holding out a hand, Lando pushed past Carlos and enthusiatically greeted Yuki. “I hope you don’t mind us being here?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I mean as long as Carlos is with you, sure. You’re the security guard, right?” 

“Yeah!”

“Cool!” Yuki grinned, and went back to his soup, using one of the tiny tea spoons to feed himself a bit. 

Carlos wrapped an arm around Lando’s waist to guide him to a seat, then rumaged through the cupboards to find two mugs that weren’t completely embarrassing. Lando pointed to the far cupboard, directing him to a plastic blue bottle that looked like it was made for children. Smelling it confirmed its contents were definitely not for children, so Carlos mixed a small amount with the various juices in the fridge to create something that could almost be called a cocktail. 

It was not romantic, by any means. The drink tasted okay, and Yuki was making a lot of noise in the background (although very politely ignoring their conversations). There was something about this pseudo-date that felt right, however. It was like they weren’t even at the bank as he let Lando talk away about his family and his worklife. The man looked back at him with such admiration, blue eyes wide as they barely left contact with him. 

He made them both another drink, and after finishing them he decided it would probably be best to not have anymore. Though not drunk, he hadn’t had alcohol in a while, and he could see it going to his head quicker than anticipated. It was good timing anyway, because Yuki was standing patiently beside the two of them, waiting for them to stop talking, with a stack of plates in his hands.

“Can you guys help me take this stuff upstairs?” He placed the plates down on the table between the two of them. “There’s way too much for me to carry.” 

There was no time to tell Lando no, that is a very bad idea , before he instantly agreed and picked up the crockery. “No problem.”

“Lando-”

“Don’t be lazy, Carlos. Aren’t you meant to be working?” He joked, and Carlos forced a smile on his face. Yuki evidently wasn’t taking any prisoners either, as he forced a handful of spoons and a bag of bread into Carlos’s arms. 

“This isn’t-” He sighed, and adjusted the items he was holding so it was more comfortable. He got the feeling that Lando wasn’t going to give in, like yet again he had no idea the amount of danger he was putting himself in. And it wasn’t as if he could argue that with Yuki present.

Best case scenario, they were just taking the food to Daniel (who didn’t care), and George (who would usually care, but presumably it wouldn’t be his biggest priority at the moment to kick up a fuss). Maybe he could explain their way out of it. Worst case scenario, Fernando would be there. All of them would be fucked if Fernando was there. 

Between them, they managed to balance all the food to make it a one-trip affair. Lando remained completely unphased by things, even when they ran into Max and Charles in the corridor. 

Max had a face on, as he often did these days. It did not help suspicions that he was practically joined at the hip with Charles up until they spotted the group of three. Carlos shot Charles a look, raising his eyebrows with a tilt of his head towards Max. 

Charles repeated the exact same move, looking instead to Lando. They were definitely onto each other. Thank god for this mexican stand-off they had created, which was protecting them both somewhat. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” Max asked accusationally, directing his question to Carlos. “We’ve been looking for you, someone needs to watch over the hostages. Pierre’s all alone.” 

“I was in the kitchen. Helping.” He explained. Yuki wasn’t going to out him. 

“Whatever. Aren’t his hands meant to be tied up?” Looking at Lando now, Max had a grin on his face. 

Lando shrugged. “I’m helping too.”

“Funny. Anyway, Seb wants to see us all again, did you get the message?” 

“What message?” Yuki asked, peering over the pan of soup he was holding. 

“So communication remains as shit as ever.” Max laughed again. “We’re doing an exchange. Come on, let’s not be late.” He slapped Charles on the backside jokingly, and began to walk off without further explanation. 

An exchange. That had not been in the plan Seb had described, so presumably something had changed enough that they were going to have to work with the police. The Seb he had grown to know would only do this as a last resort, it was such a risky thing to do. And it was certainly going to get much more dangerous, the police likely jumping on any opportunity they could to gain the upper hand. 

It was even more worrying that Lando was with them.

Letting the others get a few paces ahead of them, Carlos slowed down and leant over to Lando, so close that their faces were nearly touching. “Lando, I’ll take you back to the rest of the hostages after this. Please stay quiet.”

“I wasn’t planning on causing trouble.” He whispered back. 

“I know. I will keep you safe, okay.” With his free arm, he reached into his holster and subtly tucked his pistol into Lando’s waistband. “Here.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Try not to use it. But just in case things kick off. Protect yourself, okay?”

Pressing a soft peck to his cheek, Lando nodded. “Thank you.” 

Sebastian was waiting for them in the office. Along with Fernando, who was sitting on the desk, sunglasses back on again, and an unreadable expression on his face. Daniel had much more colour back to his face, which was encouraging, although the red marks around his throat were difficult to ignore. He had his fingers running through George’s hair, the young Brit lying on his side with his head resting in the Australian’s lap. 

“Thank you for coming, boys.” Seb got straight to business, barely even acknowledging Lando’s presence in the room. “This one is a little tricky, I’m afraid.”

The plan was well put together, as per usual, but it was not one of Sebastians best. It was obvious that he wasn’t perfectly happy with it, as he explained the nuances of how he had selected the best hostages to release, and went through each of their individual roles. He had asked Carlos and Charles to simply keep watch from one of the high windows, along with Pierre and Yuki, given their talents at such things. The physically stronger Max was going to keep the remaining hostages at bay, whilst Fernando would make the exchange. Despite arguing that he was fine and wanted to help, Daniel had settled for being a reserve, ready for any problems that were certain to arrive. 

“Sounds pretty easy then.” Max smirked, a smug look on his face, presumably because he had the easiest job. 

“Yes. But we should not underestimate Hamilton. He will have more planned, he always does.” Moving on from Max, Sebastian turned his attention to Lando, fortunately the character of his face was gentle. “Lando. I’m sorry, you shoudn’t have heard most of that. “

“It’s okay.” Lando was brave to speak up. “I wasn’t really listening anyway.”

“Thank you for your help. We’ll get you back downstairs shortly.”

“Thanks. Good luck.” He gave an awkward thumbs up to the heist leader, seemingly unaware of the concerned glares he was receiving from the rest of the room. Carlos really had to get him somewhere safe. 

“I appreciate that.” He nodded, then looked back to his heist crew. It felt like he was staring directly at Carlos. “Okay boys, we’ve got an hour. Let’s get to work.” 

Just as he brought himself up to stand, and was ready to drag Lando away from Max, the two of them already chatting about something, Carlos was stopped in his tracks. In the corner of his eye, he caught a quick glance at Fernando, the other Spaniard still sat ominously with his glasses slipping down his face just enough to view his eyes. And it sent a shiver down his spine. Because he was glaring directly at Lando. 

Chapter Text

There was only one thing on Charles’s mind. Max. It was only Max, the only thing he could think of. His touch, his bullying, even how annoyingly good he was at everything. It was almost certainly going to get them into trouble, if anything it was surprising that it hadn’t already, because they really hadn’t made the progress they needed to with the vault.

It was why he was so worried when Seb grabbed him after their quick meeting. Charles knew that he was worried about him, and Seb was practically a father to him- he wasn’t going to let anything slide. He felt the German man’s arm wrap around his shoulder gently, and guide him away from the group that was slowly walking to set up a watch by the front windows. 

“Charles.” He spoke softly, slowly moving a piece of hair out of his face. “You’re not in trouble.” 

Charles looked back over his shoulder briefly, checking where everyone else was. Max had just about disappeared out of earshot, speaking to that hostage that Carlos was definitely fucking. If anyone was in trouble, it would much more likely be the Spaniard. Still, he didn’t want to give anything away to Sebastian until it was asked directly. “Okay?” 

“I mean it. Come on, Fernando found some nice seats around the corner. Will you sit and talk with me?”

Raising an eyebrow, Charles considered it. It definitely felt like he was on the verge of being in trouble. “Don’t I need to help set up the watch?”

“They’ll manage.” Seb patted his back. “Come.”

It wasn’t an invitation. It was an order. Charles followed dutifully, as he always would when it came to Sebastian. He dragged his feet as he went, walking directly behind the German. They walked in silence, which was ominous and only made the posibilities on what their conversation was going to be build up in his head. In his mind, he went through possible excuses for what had happened, but really he couldn’t think of any. Max would probably come straight out with it. But he wasn’t Max. 

“You look so nervous.” Sitting down, Sebastian directed for him to do the same on the adjacent chair. 

Doing as he was told, Charles perched on the edge of his seat. It brought his knees up towards his chin. “I’m not nervous.” He lied. “I’m okay.”

“You’ve seemed off. Almost since this heist started, it’s not like you.” Seb reached out and ran his fingers over Charles’s right hand comfortingly. “I just want to check it with you, that is all. I know so much has happened this time around.”

“I know. I’m fine. I mean it.” Because he was fine. Perhaps he had been acting a little weird, particularly around Max, but it was entirely Max related, nothing to do with the heist. He wasn’t planning on letting whatever they had get in the way of the plan. 

“Charles, I’ve hardly seen you. You’ve been down in the vault almost the whole time, you changed your watch pattern for seemingly no reason, you’ve barely said a word to anyone. You see why I am concerned? You’re usually so good.”

He was good because Sebastian had trained him to be good. Trained him to climb into small spaces, lowered him down on a rope as soon as he was old enough to follow instructions. He had been brought up with criminals, and he had learnt not to slip. Max wasn’t the same. Max wasn’t a criminal. And Charles didn’t hate the idea of exploring the world away from Sebastian. 

“I was with Max.” He looked Seb directly in the eye, and didn’t elaborate further.

Sebastian sighed. “The whole time?”

“Well. Yes. Pretty much.” 

The expression on Seb’s face changed in a way that was difficult to read. “What do you think of him?”

“Max?” Perhaps he was about to dig himself into a deeper hole.

“Max.” 

Doing his best to appear neutral, Charles cleared his throat and spoke. “He’s nice, I guess.” 

Seb smiled. “Good. I did worry, bringing him into this. We had very little background on him, you know?”

“Yes. He said he had had problems with his father.” Charles felt the need to defend him, the tone being used was accusational, and he didn’t like it. 

“I’m aware. His father is not a good man. I certainly hope that Max will not be following in his footsteps.” He sighed again. “Charles, I’m only telling you this because I trust you. Please don’t speak to the others about it.”

“I wouldn’t ever-”

“I know, Charles.” Making direct eye contact, Sebastian had a fiercely serious look on his face, corners of his mouth drawn tightly together. “We have a mole. Someone is giving information to the police.”

His heart stopped. Surely he didn’t mean it could be Max. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Fernando is looking into it. I just want you to be aware.”

Somehow, the fact Fernando was looking into it wasn’t reassuring. Max being the newcomer to the group put him in a perilous position. Charles was almost certain he wasn’t involved, that he wouldn’t dream of giving them away. But the rest of the group didn’t know him as well, and Fernando had a tendency to jump to violent conclusions. “Max wouldn’t-”

“I appreciate you keeping an eye out.” Reaching out, Seb ruffled his hair like he used to do when Charles was much younger. “And if you want to speak, I’ll always be here.”

“Thanks.” Charles looked down at the floor and frowned. It didn’t feel as if he had gotten his point about Max across, but the conversation was being brought to an end and he didn’t want to concern Sebastian further by arguing. 

“Go on then, back to work.” Showing off his teeth, Seb smiled.

Charles tried his best to smile back.

Annoyingly, Max was with the rest of the group when Charles managed to catch up with them. He had really wanted to catch him alone, so he could at least give him a warning. The Dutch man was deep in a conversation with Carlos’s hostage, Lando, who for some reason was still around, and even more inexplicably was getting on very well with Max. 

The two of them were laughing about something, quite obnoxiously, standing a few steps away from Pierre who was setting up some sort of contraption by the window, and Carlos who was watching them with a frown on his face. Charles imagined his face looked strikingly similar as he made eye contact with Max. 

“Max. I thought you were meant to be downstairs.” His voice came out much harsher than he had intended, but Max didn’t need any more reasons to make people suspicious of him. 

Max looked spooked briefly. “Yuki has it covered for now. Why? Everything alright with Sebastian?” 

“It is fine, yes.” 

“Lovely.” Max smiled, then turned back to Lando as they continued their conversation.

“Don’t look at me.” Carlos shrugged. “I did try.”

Charles sighed and went to help Pierre, resigning himself to speak to Max later, whenever he got the chance. 

They continued talking for a while, just out of earshot enough that Charles couldn’t quite follow along, especially not when he was trying to follow along to the instructions from Pierre. The Frenchman spoke to him, unsurprisingly, in French, and he had never been good at listening to two languages at the same time. Not to mention the fact he was fairly sure they were speaking Dutch at one point, and he couldn’t speak a word of that.

It was Carlos that pulled them apart eventually, the Spaniard evidently fed up of waiting. He seemed anxious, which was not unwarranted if Charles’s suspicions about him and Lando were correct. It was even less safe for Lando to stick around with them than Max, and he needed to take him back to the hostages. He dragged him over to the far corner, held between his arms, as they engaged in a frantic but hushed conversation. 

That gave him the opportunity to grab Max, or more for Max to grab him, because he headed straight over as soon as he was free. “Hello. Sorry, we got a bit caught up.”

Charles huffed. “I just really needed to talk to you.”

Leaning forwards, Max pressed his lips down to Charles’s forehead. “What about?”

As much as he was enjoying the contact, he pushed him back. “Stop. You can’t here-”

“These guys all know, Charles.” Max laughed. “It’s no worse than what those two are doing.” He gestured to the debating duo of Carlos and Lando. “Or you Gasly. I expect an invite to yours and Yuki’s wedding.”

“Very funny.” Pierre didn’t look up from his work. Although he and Yuki weren’t dating, it wouldn’t even be that surprising if it happened, given everyone else. They would probably be a more functional couple. 

“I mean it, we need to be careful.” He wanted to kiss him back, to hold him properly, but they couldn’t risk it. Not until they had gotten out of the bank safely. “Max. Please.”

“Okay. Can we speak here? I should get down to the hostages.”

He shook his head. “When we’ve done the exchange, I’ll meet you in the vault.”

Max laughed. “So it’s that sort of talk?”

Charles felt his cheeks flush. “No- no. Well-”

“I’ll see you there.” He turned on his heels and began to walk away.

Reaching out, Charles pulled on his shoulder and turned him back again. He pressed their lips together softly, lightly pecking at him. “Stay safe.”

“I’ll try.”

Pierre managed to restrain himself just long enough for Max to leave before speaking up. He was evidently holding back hysterical laughter, that was slowly bursting its way through his words. “So you like a dutch man then, Charlie boy?”

“Shut up.”

“Have you guys like- fucked- yet?”

“Shut up.” He could feel his face getting redder and redder.

Pierre cackles. “So that's a yes. No, I am happy for you Charles. Just from the look of him I bet he has a big-”

“Okay, okay. Enough now.” Perhaps it would have been better that Fernando knew over Pierre, because this was insufferable. He desperately tried to change the subject, looking for any other topic. Fortunately there was one short, curly-haired security guard of a topic who was still standing right there with them. “Shouldn’t he be downstairs?” 

Lando pouted. “We’ve decided I can stay here?”

“Have we now?” 

“Look.” Carlos began to explain. “It will be safer for him here. And there is no chance he would be chosen to get let free. I’ll take him back as soon as this is done, I promise.”

It was certainly an empty promise, because Charles remembered Sebastian telling them to take Lando back down to the hostages nearly an hour earlier, and they hadn’t even made an attempt to do that. Despite this, he wasn’t going to kick up a fuss. Not yet, at least. There was no need, and it would likey do more harm than good. 

Charles sighed. “Okay. Whatever.” He wandered over to Pierre, who was peeking through the gap he had made in the boarded up windows. 

“They’re getting ready, see.” Pierre pointed out the window towards the white tent that the Police had set up. A small group of officers in heavy armour were gathering. 

Pressing the call button on his earpiece, Charles addressed the boss. “Hey, Seb. I think we’re about to start.”

“ Excellent.” He replied, voice calm. “ Places please, boys.”

“On it.” Charles still found it crazy how you could hear the smirk in Fernando’s voice, even without seeing his face. 

“We’re good to go too.” Pierre replied for their group, a smile plastered across his face as he watched Yuki barrel his way into the corridor, almost knocking over Lando as he tried to make himself look presentable and ready to work. He gave Pierre a thumbs up, matching him with a beaming grin. 

“ I’ve turned the CCTV back on briefly, so just be aware that the Police will have this footage too. So try and behave, please.” George was a surprising voice to hear, he didn’t sound well by any measure, but he was barely holding himself up earlier. Maybe Yuki’s soup had worked its miracles. “ And- uh- thanks for this.”

“Anything for you, Princess.” In other circumstances Charles could have been jealous of this, but Max had referred to George as ‘Princess’ pretty much as soon as they had met. 

“ Quiet now. Enough flirting. Hold your positions because if I get shot I will kill you all.” Fernando was certainly not joking about the last bit. 

“Noted.” He responded, picking up one of the longer range rifles and getting into position.

It should have been an easy job. Especially for those keeping watch. There shouldn’t have been anything for them to do. It should have been impossible for them to fuck up. But, of course, that meant that they would take it as a challenge to do just that. 

Charles took the centre window, with Yuki and Pierre on the far right one and Carlos on the left. Lando was meant to be waiting at the back of the room, but had slowly edged himself forwards the window and was standing on his tiptoes, peeking over Carlos’s shoulder.

At first, it was entertaining watching the scene. Charles had his marks to watch, which he did, but he couldn’t stop himself from getting a little distracted watching the group of officers slowly walk up to the door, a large green box held in the hands of their leader. The leader, according to Pierre, was a man called Ocon, and was his mortal enemy. For reasons he could not get his head around, he and Pierre had some dramatic history, which the Frenchman did not hold back on complaining about whilst they waited for Fernando to appear. 

It took some time, and Charles knew that Fernando was doing it on purpose. Keep the ball in their court. Make the police know that they were in charge. Eventually, the top of his head could be seen, the sound of the front doors opening for the first time in days echoing its way through the bank. Unlike the officers, he wasn’t wearing any armour. He didn’t need it. They wouldn’t shoot him, not when he had hostages infront of him.

“Are they just going to hand it over?” Lando asked innocently.

“Hopefully.” Carlos answered. Charles didn’t look up, but he hoped that the Spaniard was keeping his eyes on the targets. 

Pierre laughed. “If not they’ll have hell to answer to.”

“And by hell, he means me.” Yuki sounded sickly sweet, but Charles knew he was talking about more explosives he had rigged around the bank. He didn’t even want to know how many there were. 

“Okay. We need to concentrate, guys.” Carlos brought them back to the task at hand briefly. 

Only briefly though. Pierre and Yuki began to narrate the entire thing, which was verging on annoying. Charles tried his best to block it out. He would be back down in the vault with Max shortly, he wouldn’t have to put up with them for much longer. The exchange was nearly done, he watched Fernando gently push one of the hostages- a younger man who had caused very little trouble- forwards into the arms of an officer. Nothing had happened, nothing needed to be done, as Esteban held the green box out at arms length.

It was when Fernando took the supply box that everything went to shit. 

There was a sudden noise, almost deafening. It took a moment for his mind to catch up with his body, because when his thoughts arrived he was already crouched down on the floor, protecting his head with his hands. It was a gunshot. And it had come from their room.  “What the fuck?” He asked, still slightly dazed as he looked around for the source of the noise. 

The room was completely silent. Yuki and Pierre had taken the exact same manouvere as he had, ducked down beneath the window so they were out of view. Charles scanned over them both momentarily, but they both seemed okay, other than a look of shock upon their faces. A look that was directed in his direction, but not at him. They were looking right through him. 

Hesitantly, Charles turned his head. To his surprise, it wasn’t Carlos that he saw first. It was Lando. 

Standing, arms raised with gun still in hand, mouth hanging open like he couldn’t believe what had just happened, the young Brit was like a statue. For a moment nobody moved a muscle, other than a slight shake that started to appear in Lando’s hands. 

Sense came back to Charles like a tsunami. “Get down! Shit.” He shouted over at the duo on the left window, just in time before the sound of a barrage of gunfire back in their direction was heard, smashing the glass above them.

Carlos dragged Lando down by his shoulders, the two of them lay down on the floor together, breathing heavily. Carefully, Carlos prised the gun out of Lando’s gripped palm and flicked the safety switch. 

“I didn’t mean to- I promise I didn’t mean to.” It looked as if Lando was on the verge of tears. It would have been excusable to cry. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to.”

Wrapping an arm around him, Carlos comforted him gently. “It’s okay. I know. It’s okay.”

“You’ve really fucked this now, Carlos.” Charles shouted back again as the sound of more gunshots came from outside. “Fuck! Did he hit anyone?”

Creeping upwards, Pierre lifted just his head up to look through the gap he had made. He immediately let himself fall back down again with a gasp as a bullet ricocheted off the stone window ledge. He had a beaming grin on his face as he leant back against the wall. “You fucking legend, Lando.”

Lando didn’t respond, seemingly in shock as he rolled onto his side. 

Charles was more interested in what had happened. “What?”

“He only hit that French fucker.” There was something slightly disturbing about how happy Pierre was about a man getting shot. 

“Cool!” Yuki laughed.

Charles sighed, and tried to peer up without exposing himself to any snipers. “Not cool! Is he okay?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t really get a chance to see. He was still breathing I think.” 

“You think?” Charles wanted to be anywhere else. Seb was going to kill them all. He only had to hope that they had gotten the supplies and Fernando had gotten himself back inside, but it was impossible to see.

“I’m so sorry.” Lando whined, tears streaming down his face now. 

“Don’t apologise!” Pierre laughed. “You’re one of us now.”

The implications of that seemed to hit Lando like a truck. His face paled and he went silent, leaning backwards against an equally shell-shocked looking Carlos. The two of them looked at each other, breathing so heavily it could be heard across the room. 

Then, because of course they did, things got even worse. 

It wasn’t that Charles was unhappy to see Max there. If anything he was glad, because nobody was talking any sense, and Charles was not in a position to sort this all out. But seeing the blonde Dutchman run into the hallway and stare directly at him made him even more aware that they had majorly fucked up. 

“Are you all okay?” He asked, speaking to Charles directly. 

Charles nodded. “We’re fine.” He gestured with his head in the direction of Lando and Carlos. Fortunately Max seemed to pick up at least a little of what was going on, as he gave an understanding nod back again. “Is Fernando okay?”

“Yes. Unfortunately for you lot. What happened?” Slowly edging forwards, he stood at the side of Charles’s window and leant across so he could see. 

“I missfired.” Carlos explained, lying through his teeth. It was commendable, but nowhere near believable, not when they had all seen what had happened. Evidently this was going to be the tactic they went for. Lando was going to need to pull himself together if it were to work, because he was still weeping. 

“Idiot.” Scoffed Max, although he didn’t seem too distressed. “They’re retreating, I think we should be fine.” 

Charles reached out a hand to him, letting himself be pulled up to standing. “Thanks.”

“Well it should be okay, anyway. The guy looked alright from what I could see.” Max continued to explain, his voice permeating through the otherwised shocked to silence room. “And it wasn’t even any of the fun hostages that we let go, so.” He looked at Lando. “Sorry you’re still here.”

Lando didn’t even try to reply. 

“Right.” Continued Max. “Any more problems here? Or shall we head back down? Someone has to face the wrath of Alonso”  He was looking directly at Charles, the question obviously directed at him.

“Sure.” Began Charles, still holding onto Max’s hand he allowed himself to be led away. 

They were stopped in their tracks almost immediately by an outburst of Spanish through the earpiece. It was almost as painful as the gunshot, and Charles was sure he would need to get his hearing checked after this. 

“What is it?” Max asked, pressing his earpiece, dragging Charles quicker through the hallway. “Nando?”

“ Fuck!” Fernando changed over to English, but presumably the sentiment remained the same. “ The rest of the hostages. They are fucking escaping.”

Chapter Text

Shit had been kicking off. And Oscar didn’t particularly care to be a part of it. He couldn’t help but think he had gotten the raw end of some deal. 

Firstly, having to work a dead-end reception job, although admittedly being at the national bank did give him some credit, but there were no real career advancement prospects, and he should have managed much more with his university degree. It was a shit job, with shit hours, shit pay and an even shittier uniform. He didn’t have any friends at work, excluding Lando, and he would hesitate to even call him a friend. The new security guard who only talked to him because he was avoiding doing any actual work was more fitting. 

His life at home wasn’t much better either. His parents were proud of him, of course, but he got the idea that they weren’t too happy about him moving back in, especially not now his sisters had all flown the nest. It wasn’t like he made enough money to move out anyway. All his friends had left the city, gone to better places. Bigger things. So he worked a dull job, then came home and lived a dull life. 

He felt much worse complaining about that as soon as the gunmen had entered the bank. Of course, they had been trained for it as a possibility. Give them the money you have in the register, and let them leave. But they hadn’t asked for money. And they hadn’t left. 

Really he couldn’t complain. He was rather comfortable as a hostage, and he didn’t have to do any work, which was a bonus. If anything, he had gotten more sleep than usual, albeit on the cold marble floor of the bank hall. The other hostages had been bearable. Lando was Lando, and Checo and Lance were verging on being irritatingly upset about the whole thing, but they had been good enough company. Valtteri had been obsessed with creating an escape plan, which Oscar could barely be bothered with and couldn’t bring himself to feign surprise when it didn’t work. There was a worry in the back of his mind for Valtteri and Zhou- they were taken away a few hours ago with no sign of them since. Still, there was very little he could do in the current situation other than hope that they were okay, which they logically were. If they were going to hurt them they would do it infront of the rest of the hostages. Make an example of them. 

There was plenty going on behind the scenes that Oscar wasn’t privy to. Obviously he had no need to know their plans, and he had been sleeping a lot, so it was difficult to pick up on what exactly they were up to. All he knew about was what he could see directly in front of him. And, in his opinion, it didn’t look like the criminals were winning.

The old guy, Fernando, was sitting back in his usual spot up on the desk. Eyes darting from side to side, he gave very little away, but Oscar got the idea that he was more on edge. The Dutch guy, Max, was with them too- he was rarely seen with the hostages, and there was presumably a reason for that because he was not being the most gentle. It looked as if he was sorting through them all, selecting individuals and directing them into the far corner, by the door. He didn’t explain what he was doing, because why would he, but the people he chose gave Oscar enough to at least speculate. Hostages who looked unwell. More tired. Older. They weren’t going to hurt the group, not if they had any sense for their reputations.

Unsurprisingly, Oscar was not chosen. Neither were Lance or Checo, the only other remaining members of his group. They sat on the floor silently, and waited as Max passed them without even a look. 

His backside was starting to hurt. As was his neck as he craned it to look over his shoulder and follow Fernando as he strode over to the group slowly, lifting his left arm slowly and staring down at his watch.

“Something is going on.” Checo whispered, finally pointing out the obvious.

Lance scoffed. “Yeah. Not for us though.” 

“I do not think they will trust any of us again.” It was obvious that the Mexican wanted something more, but he was right. After the stunt Valtteri pulled, they were never going to be involved in any plan. 

“What? Do you think they’re, like, letting them out?” Lance’s eyes were wide. 

Of course they were letting them out. Or at least parading them on the outside as some form of distraction. It didn’t take a genius to work it out. The look of disdain on Fernando’s face alone told them that whatever was about to happen was not favourable for the heist crew. 

Neither of them answered Lance. Checo had evidently stopped listening, concentrating instead on the line of hostages being made by the door. Oscar simply didn’t feel like answering. He was really getting on the edge of his tether with these conversations, and was missing having a slightly larger group where he didn’t need to join in. 

He was very happy to wait out this heist. If they were letting people go, it wouldn’t be too long. It would be his turn soon.

Although the rest of the room was not silent, they did not continue any conversation, Lance now equally enthralled by the goings on. The three of them stared in the same direction, not even trying to hide it. Checos’ mouth was hung open slightly, like he was in awe. He wanted to get out more than anyone, and wasn’t hiding it any better than Oscar was hiding his boredom. 

Disappointingly for Valtteri’s plan, Fernando pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. If only the Finn had waited a few hours, things could have been much easier. Although, if Valtteri had been there he would have undoubtedly made a dash through the door as it was opening and gotten them all into more trouble, so maybe it was for the best that he had been locked away elsewhere. 

With his shoulder, Fernando gently eased the door open so it was slightly ajar, and a beam of sunlight flowed into the hall. The room fell into silence, other than the Spaniard who was whispering something to the woman at the front of his queue of hostages. When she didn’t move, he made a ‘come hither’ motion menacingly, and she shuffled towards him, hands slowly rising in surender. Fernando tucked himself behind her, although not touching her at all, then slowly followed her out the door. 

A breath caught in Oscar’s chest. He hadn’t even realised he was anxious. From where he was sitting, he couldn’t see what was going on outside the bank. It seemed to take some time though, whatever conversation was being had out there. Slowly, the line of hostages began to filter out, starting at a slow walk and transitioning into a run until they were all gone. Turning his head, Oscar raised a slow eyebrow in the direction of his two remaining companions, wondering what would happen next. That wondering was only held for mere seconds, because moments later a harsh sound echoing through the bank made him jump out of his skin. 

“What the fuck?” Max shouted from somewhere behind them, his voice echoing through the shell shocked room. 

It was a gunshot. And it had come from inside the bank. 

The room descended into chaos, as the previously sitting groups of hostages began to shout, scream, and move away from the centre of the hall. Oscar saw no need to join in, yes someone had shot from inside the bank, but it hadn’t come from near them. There was no need to panic. Not yet. 

In the corner of his vision, he spotted Fernando, back in the room and shouting at the top of his lungs in Spanish. He pushed the door back behind it, and was breathing heavily. He looked like he wanted to kill a man, and from what Oscar had picked up about Fernando, that was a real possibility. 

“What do we do?” Asked Lance, and it took Oscar a second to realise he was looking at him. 

“Why are you asking me-” He sighed, realising that pretending he wasn’t a little bit bothered by this whole situation was futile. “If we wait until it calms down, we’ll be alright.”

“Did someone get shot? Do you think it was a hostage?” 

“I don’t know.” Oscar looked around again. Some people were starting to stand up, moving around the hall out of control. He still had eyes on Fernando, but Max was nowhere to be seen. It would be best to not be in the centre of the room if more shots were fired. He stood up slowly, bending his spine so as to not draw attention to himself. “Come on, try and keep yourself low.”

Lance followed suit, shakily getting to his feet. “Checo-”

Still sitting on the floor, still watching, the Mexican didn’t make to move. He pointed to another sub-group of hostages, a younger group, who didn’t seem to be panicking like the rest. “Look.” 

Oscar’s vision followed them. They were moving with purpose, weaving through the crowd, seemingly unnoticed by Fernando who was still shouting. 

“Holy shit, are they-”

Escaping. And it already looked more successful than their attempt. It was embarrassing really. Either way, he didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire when it kicked off. Grabbing Checo and pulling him up to his feet, he started to step back towards the far wall. “I think so. Let’s get out of the way.” 

Checo pulled back against him, resisting the movement. Oscar was half tempted to leave him, but decided that that would probably be a step too far. They had run out of time anyway, and his attention was fully taken by the scene infront of him. Fernando just about caught on to what was happening, but not quick enough.

One of the hostages, a taller man, slammed his fist forwards into Fernando, catching him across the nose. It didn’t look like a bad hit, but it threw him off balance, clasping his face in reaction. Leaning over, he stumbled a step away from the door, blood dripping from his nose into his clasped palms. One of the other hostages used that, pulling the unlocked door open again and sprinted out. Fernando was powerless to stop them, trying to grasp for his gun whilst holding his nose, but only held it for a moment before it was knocked out his hand and kicked across the floor. 

“Fucker!” He screamed, voice nasal sounding. 

“Let’s go.” Checo pulled Oscar by his shirt sleeve. “We must, it’s our only chance.”

Oscar followed for a few steps, Lance at his side, but sense caught up with him. As much as he wanted to just sit and observe, let things play themselves out, there was something that if he didn’t do he would regret forever. He sighed. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Man, they’re literally opening the door for us!” Although sounding in disbelief, Lance stopped as well. 

“I can’t leave Lando. And Valtteri and Zhou, I’ve got to go find them.” 

Lance groaned. “Seriously?”

Also stopping in his tracks, Checo turned. He had a deep frown on his face. “I don’t want to. But you are right. We were all part of that plan.”

Shrugging, Lance sighed. “Fine. Okay. But we don’t even know where they are.”

“I’ve got some ideas.” Oscar nodded, and led the way, running in the opposite direction to all the rest of the hostages, as fast as their legs would take them. 

It was dangerous. It was probably a stupid idea. And Oscar had not thought it through one bit. Despite that, as the three of them ran through the back halls of the bank, it felt like they were doing the right thing. Heading the right way. He hadn’t anticipated how stiff his legs would be after sitting on the floor for so long, and running felt harder than it had ever been. 

He was taking them to the back offices, figuring that that would be the most likely place to put Valtteri and Zhou. They were small enough rooms, and they could be locked. Not that Oscar had thought about it a lot, but if he was put in a situation where he had to lock somebody up at work, he would put them there. Seb had mentioned a cleaning cupboard as well, which was along the same corridor. If everything made sense like that, it wouldn’t be hard to find them. Finding Lando was a bigger problem. There was no explanation as to why he wasn’t back yet, as had been the plan. And they had seen Carlos, so it wasn’t just an extended distraction (Oscar hated thinking about what Lando could possibly have been doing to distract him, and hated even more how eager the Brit had been to volunteer for the role). He didn’t know where to look for him. Hopefully he had been discovered as well and locked up with the other two, but knowing Lando he was somewhere else, doing something stupider. Hopefully he hadn’t gotten himself in too much trouble. 

More gunshots rang through the bank, but Oscar barely acknowledged them. He was leading the little group, legs taking him at speed until they reached the back corridor. “Try all the doors.” He directed, somehow having become the de facto leader. 

Between them they began to go through all the doors, opening each to check the rooms behind. It took more time than it should have- there was no door that looked particularly suspicious, and every small office and storeroom were similar in layout and suitability. Still, they had to try, not able to risk missing a single one. 

Relief filled him when he reached one of the store rooms halfway down the corridor, and before he had even put the code into the keypad he could hear shouting. Gently he twisted the handle, and stuck his head around the door. The room was almost pitch black, light flowing in suddenly and causing its two occupants to squint in reaction. They looked tired, but they were okay, both tied to opposite sides of the room with zipties around their wrists attached via shoulder-height sets of shelves. Zhou looked as if he had managed to make himself comfortable, perched on the shelf below with his legs swinging, whereas Valtteri had twisted himself into something much less pleasant, having to balance on his tiptoes. 

“Hello!” Despite everything Valtteri still sounded cheery, pieces of blond mullet falling over his face. “How did you get here?”

Zhou gave a slight wave, the best he could do with his hands tied.

“Long story.” Oscar frowned, evaluating the options for how to get them out. “We need to get going.”

“Excellent.” Valtteri nodded. “I look forward to hearing about it.”

Lance and Checo had caught on, and appeared behind him in the doorway. Lance cleared his throat and looked them up and down. “You guys alright?”

“We’re okay, I think.” Zhou smiled, calm despite the chaos of gunfire that could still be heard. 

“Could somebody cut us down please?” 

Valtteri made a good point, standing there gawking was getting them nowhere, and they didn’t have any time to waste. “Lance, do you know where the kitchen is?” The Canadian nodded slowly. “Good. Grab a knife. I’m going to go find Lando.”

Finding Lando was easier said than done. Oscar was aware of how alone he was, and how quiet it became when the gunshots from outside died down. His footsteps sounded too loud, shoes clattering against the marble floor. He wasn’t really sure what direction he was going in, but checked in every room regardless, hoping that he would just stumble upon his colleague. 

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t. Lando had managed to make himself completely disappear. Maybe he was hiding somewhere. Maybe he was out of the bank already. But Oscar highly doubted that. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he found Sainz, Lando wouldn’t be far behind. 

He did feel a little guilty. It was Carlos who had fooled him in the first place, gotten Oscar to tell him all he knew about the bank under the guise of being a prince. He didn’t blame himself for getting fooled- the Spaniard had been very convincing, and he was trained to do this afterall. What he felt bad for was how involved Lando had become with the man. 

Looking downstairs brought him no progress, so he headed upwards via the back stairwell, not wanting to risk the main hall where presumably the criminals all were. It was somehow even quieter, but he could hear faint talking coming from the main office. Gentle, and with a German accent. Sebastian. 

On the pads of his feet, Oscar skulked slowly to where the voice could be heard. The door was slightly ajar, Sebastians voice louder as he approached, up to the point where he could hear him clearly. 

He could just about be seen through the crack of the door, sitting up straight at the desk. “I understand. And we all make mistakes, Carlos.”

So Sainz was there as well. Was this to do with Lando? Was it Lando that had been shot? Oscar could feel his heart rate pick up, thumping in his chest as he built up the courage to look a little further round. 

“I am sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise. I can make it up to you.” Carlos was pleading, sounding exasperated. 

“I should hope not. For your sake, I hope that the rest of us will be able to salvage something downstairs.”

Oscar leant forwards, holding his breath as he pushed the door just an inch further. He got a better view of Sebastian, who leant his face down into his palms. 

“I hope you understand that I will need Fernando to keep a closer eye on you.” He continued. “You’re not in trouble. But I need to be sure.”

“I understand.” 

Twisting his neck round awkwardly, Oscar managed to catch a glimpse of the Spaniard. He sat with his elbows on his knees, brown eyes wide and apologetic. Oscar didn’t linger on him for long. Not when he noticed the figure on the chair next to him, who had remained uncharacteristically silent the whole time. Lando. With his hand on Carlos’s back, rubbing in circles. He looked like he had been crying, redness around his eyes, but was otherwise in one piece. What was going on? Why was Lando just in there with him, not even restrained? 

He wasn’t sure what the solution to this was. He couldn’t get Lando out of there, not when there were at least two armed criminals with him. And it wasn’t like he had any way to get the Brit’s attention. He needed time to think, but it was time they didn’t have. They would be lucky if the bank doors were even still open, hopefully the rest of the group had been quicker and managed to get out. 

It was only for a moment that his mind wandered. But a moment too long. He had waited in the doorway too long. 

Sebastian was looking directly at him.  “Why, Hello. How have you gotten here then?”

Oscar’s heart stopped, adrenaline spiking. He tried to spin on his heels, run away, but there was a characteristic click and a feeling of cool metal on his back. A hand patted him on his shoulder gently, but he daren’t move his head to see who it was. 

“It’s alright, kid.” The familiar (although slightly hoarse sounding) Australian accent filled his ears, meaning it was Daniel that was threatening him. “I think I’ve got the last one, boys.”

Oscar slowly raised his hands, still making direct eye contact with Sebastian. So much for staying out of trouble.

Chapter Text

“The medics are on their way out.” Alex was fumbling about with multiple things behind him, dropping the phone back into the receiver. “Looks like it caught him in the arm.”

“He’s alright though?” Lewis asked, not taking his eyes away from the view of cameras he had infront of him. Some the bank’s CCTV, some the perimeter cameras they had set up themselves. It was the first proper look they had gotten inside the bank since the cameras were shut off, and he was trying to gain anything he could from them whilst the footage remained up. 

It was hard to stop the smile on his face when the hostages pushed their way past Fernando and started running out the bank. Surely it wasn’t going to be this easy, but it looked like Lewis was about to win this. And he knew it would make Sebastian furious if he were to lose to him in such a way. 

They had sent Logan out to gather the hostages together. He couldn’t be threatening if he tried, so was the perfect man to greet them, take them all to the medical tent. Alex had printed him out a list with a photo of each hostage, to make sure that everyone had gotten out safe. All Lewis was waiting for was a call that it was all clear, then he had a team on standby to enter the bank. 

A proper, armed and armoured, SWAT team. Not Esteban in only a bullet-proof vest carrying a box. It was stupid to have let him go like that, but he has been very insistent that he be the one to do the handover, desperate to get it on his CV. It had been going well, they had gotten the expected hostages out. It didn’t seem like a Sebastian plan for an officer to be shot, so Lewis could only assume that something had gone wrong. It was no skin off his back anyway. The more that went wrong for the heist crew, the better things were for him. 

“Other than the bullet wound?” Alex sat down on the seat next to Lewis. “He’s alright. Still talking and stuff. Are they all out yet?”

Lewis’s vision skimmed its way across the screens, checking for who was there. Other than a bleeding Fernando and some much-too-late members of the crew, the hallway was completely emptied. It was no guarantee that all the hostages were free though, and he wasn’t willing to risk anybody getting hurt on his watch. 

Anybody else getting hurt on his watch. At least Esteban seemed okay, but it would be a blow to the operation if he had to take much time out. 

“I don’t know.”

“Can we not just send someone in? I could go in?” Alex suggested, eyes fixed on one particular feed. The one showing the main office.

Lewis knew he was anxious, and was fairly sure he had figured out what was going on without needing to ask. Without being able to ask, because he didn’t think Alex would risk saying anything out loud. If even Logan didn’t know the details, then nobody did. Still, if he was right, he knew how to reassure the young man. “They got the package, you know. Even if we can’t go in now, they got the supplies.”

“Right.” Alex leant his elbows on the table. “You know, he didn’t tell me. He told me every single thing that happened, other than the fact he’d been shot.”

So that all but confirmed Lewis’s suspicions. “He didn’t want to worry you?”

“He’s a bloody idiot.” 

Lewis wondered whether he would tell Nico. They hadn’t been dating long, not like Alex who he was fairly sure was married, judging by the ring on his finger. He probably wouldn’t, not at first. Not if he was in the position that George- because it was George, the only one out of sight on the CCTV, the only one who could have been shot- was in. He wouldn’t want to risk the whole operation, and more importantly he wouldn’t want to upset Nico. 

“I just want to be there with him.” Alex continued after a pause. “I just want to be in there.”

“It’s hard, I know.” Lewis patted his shoulder gently. “You’re doing more for him out here than you could do in there.”

“Yeah.” It didn’t sound like Alex agreed. 

“ Hey sir- sorry- Lewis-” Logan’s voice came through the intercom, followed by static.

Reaching forward, Lewis activated the microphone. “What have we got?”

“ Most of them are out, but there are some still missing. And the door looks like it's been shut properly now.” 

Next to him Alex swore under his breath. Lewis looked at him sympathetically before speaking again. “That’s alright Logan. Make sure the escaped hostages are safe then join us in the tent.”

The microphone turned off with another press of the button. He looked again at Alex. “He’ll be okay.”

The Thai man turned paler, though still holding a neutral expression on his face. Lewis couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. He didn’t respond, but his eyes widened as he watched the CCTV feeds slowly cut off one by one. They had been lucky to get as much footage as they did. At least they had saved it. 

“Alex?” He didn’t want him to dwell on things. Especially not with Esteban out of action for the foreseeable future. “Alex. Can you go through the footage, try and see what went on with the gunshot.”

“Yeah.” Alex stood up slowly. “Sure.”

Given the slight pause in action, Lewis took the time to check things outside the tent. He needed the fresh air regardless, and he wanted to at least see the hostages with his own eyes. And, debatably as importantly, he wanted to check his phone. 

He took it out of his pocket as soon as he was outside, using his hand to shade the screen from the sun. There were no messages, not yet, but he smiled as he sent a quick message to Nico, just to let him know he was thinking of him. Clicking his phone off, he tucked it into his back pocket and strolled over towards the medical tent, the construction built a little further back than the main area of operations. 

Nobody stopped him as he wandered in, pushing the white fabric out of the way with his arm. The area had previously been unused, but was full of people now, mainly hostages who were sitting on the floor wrapped in foil blankets or standing around with small cups of water. There was nothing that looked worrying, which was reassuring. Seb had kept his promise of keeping them safe. Towards the far side of the tent was a curtained off area, which Lewis made a beeline to. He smiled and nodded at the hostages as he weaved his way through, greeting the occasional one, congratulating them on holding out. It was brief, but it was good practice. 

Esteban could be heard groaning from the other side of the curtain. With just his head Lewis looked in, to see the Frenchman lying back on a stretcher, breathing in and out through a gas and air nozzle. “Hey man, can I come in?”

“Go for it.” He spoke through gritted teeth then went straight back to the gas and air with a groan as the medic continued to wrap a pressure bandage around his arm. 

“How are you?” Perching on the end of the trolley, Lewis knew he was asking a stupid question. 

Shrugging with his good arm, Esteban took the mouthpiece out and laid it down on his chest. “Not great. I’m going to need surgery, they think.”

“Shit man. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sent you.”

“I didn’t think they would shoot. Merde.” He grumbled as his arm was moved slightly. 

“To be honest, me neither. We don’t really know what happened.” It was just so unlike Seb, Lewis was intrigued to see what Alex would find watching the footage. 

“I bet it was Gasly. He can’t be trusted.” 

Lewis sighed. “We’ll look into it, man. Just focus on getting better. Take whatever time you need.”

“I’ll be back at work as soon as I can.” He had a look of focus on his face, and Lewis didn’t doubt one bit that he meant what he said. 

“I know.” Turning back through the curtain, he hesitated briefly before leaving. “Text me, okay. Keep us updated. I’ll come see you after the surgery.”

Esteban had the pain relief back in his mouth, but gave Lewis a shaky thumbs up with a forced smile. Lewis left before he started screaming again. 

Logan was back in the control tent by the time Lewis got back. He was still holding the list of hostages in both hands, hovering behind Alex who was concentrating on his computer screen, frown on his face. They were both eerily silent. Logan at least looked up to acknowledge him, stepping over to catch him on his return. 

“I went through them all, and I double checked as well. There’s six unaccounted for.” He placed his photo sheet down infront of Lewis. “Here.”

Looking down at the photos, there were six faces circled in red. Bottas, Norris, Perez, Piastri, Stoll and Zhou. He analysed them briefly, taking in the information. “Is there any connection between them?”

“Not really?” Logan pulled the whiteboard round, to where he had already stuck up pictures of their faces and annotated them neatly. “I mean Stroll and Zhou are both very wealthy, and Piastri and Norris are both employed by the bank itself, but otherwise I don’t know man. It seems kinda random.”

“Maybe it is. Maybe they’re just the ones left behind.” Pausing, he considered what to do for a second. “Can you look into it more, anything you can find.”

Logan nodded. There was going to be a lot for the American to take on, with Estaban gone and Alex on the verge of a mental breakdown. Hopefully he would be able to deal with the pressure. 

“Hey, Lewis.” Alex called from his seat by the computer. “Come look at this.”

Wandering over, Lewis leant over his shoulder and stared at the screen. He waited for Alex to rewind the video, tapping his hand on the desk. “What have you found?”

“It’s not one of the heist crew that shot Esteban. Look.”

The video began to play, showing a view of the upper hall of the bank, the room that overlooked the main entrance. There were five figures visible on the feed, and although it was difficult to make out with the poor video quality, it was obvious that one of them wasn’t one of the criminals. They weren’t wearing the matching suit, and Lewis couldn’t place the man. But Alex was right. It was this figure that recoiled back like he had just shot a gun, just before the rest of the room's occupants ducked down into cover.

“Is that one of the hostages?”

Alex nodded slowly. “Yeah. I think it’s Lando, judging by the size of him.”

“Shit man. Do you think they forced him?” Lewis tried to comprehend a reason why it was Lando in particular that had fired the shot. Yet again, it just wasn’t Sebastian’s style to have that as a part of the plan. 

Taking the video back again, Alex let it play. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really look like it. I’ve met him before. Lando, I mean. Years ago. I don’t really remember too much about him, but he was in our- I mean, my, class at the academy.” 

“He’s an officer?” Lewis asked, he would have sworn he would have remembered that from the background checks they had on each hostage. 

Alex hummed. “No. He dropped out. He’s the security guard at the bank.”

“Right.” That made more sense, he did remember reading something about that. “So what do you think?”

“I worry that he’s done this of his own accord.” 

“Really?” The video showed the shot again. There was nobody behind him, nobody threatening him. Maybe Alex was right. Seducing hostages would be more on brand for the group. “Do you think you could look into it? See if Geo-”

“Yeah.” Alex scowled as he interrupted his boss. “I will.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think-”

“It’s fine.” Looking round, Alex checked the room, relief filling his expression when it was only an oblivious Logan with them. “I’ll ask.”

“Thanks.” He raised his voice so it was loud enough for the both of them to hear. “I’m going to try and speak to some of the escaped hostages. See what I can find out. Call me if you need, my phone will be on.”

Lewis had to escape again. Take a step back from the bank, recalibrate before he could bring himself to do any more work. The whole situation was only getting weirder and weirder. It was times like this that he wished he still smoked, a good excuse to get out. Instead he went back to the coffee shop and bought a coffee for himself, just himself, sipping on it through the paper lid slowly. 

Somehow he found himself in the nearby park. Instinctually, his phone came out of his pocket again, the screen lit up with notifications. His eyes drifted to a particular one: 

Thinking of you too, darling. 

After that, Nico had sent him a particularly more worrying message. His fingers hovered over it for a moment before clicking onto the text feed.

Hey, can you give me a call when you get a chance?

It was almost certainly unprofessional to be calling his boyfriend during work hours, but he was already pushing it with the impromptu break, and nobody would have dared stop him. Besides, whatever Nico wanted to say sounded important. As soon as he was sure he was out of earshot of any passers by, he hit call.

Waiting for Nico to pick up was anxiety-inducing to say the least, and although it only took him as many rings as it would typically take Sebastian to pick up, it felt much longer. Like he was waiting for some bad news on the other end. 

“- Lewis?” Came Nico’s voice, half cut out with the poor signal in the area.

“Hey, is everything okay? Are you okay?”

He laughed. “I’m fine. How are you?”

Lewis ran a hand through his braids, not even realising that he had begun to pace. Hearing Nico’s voice calmed him down. “Good. I’m fine, I’m alright.”

“You sure? You sound stressed, baby.”

“I promise I’m alright. I don’t know if it’s gotten to your station yet but-” He began to explain the situation, but was soon interrupted.

“The hostages are out?” Nico hummed. “Yeah, I’m drafting the report on it now. You’ll be home late, I assume?”

“Yeah.” He hadn’t even considered the time, checking his watch showed they had almost hit five pm. It was going to be a long day, with little chance they could hand the situation over to the night team as it was. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I’ll have dinner for you when you get back. And I’ve already fed Roscoe.”

For a moment, it felt like Lewis’s thoughts needed a moment to catch up. “You’re in my flat?”

There was silence on the line for a second. “Yeah, is that okay? I’m working from home, and you gave me the spare keys so-”

“No, it’s fine. It’ll be nice to have someone to come home to.”

“Thank you, liebchen.” He paused again. “What are your thoughts on that video?”

His brain stopped computing again. “Video?”

 “Yeah, you’ve seen it right? They released it about fifteen minutes ago? My boss wants us to go for the angle that the bandits are heroes, and honestly looking at the comments, I think the public will agree.”

“Nico, I’ve not seen the video.” Turning on his heels, he started to speed walk back towards the bank, not realising how far he had wandered. 

“The Stroll video, no?”

He had seen nothing of the like. And as confused as he had been before, if this was what it sounded like, it was much more like a Sebastian plan. Humanise the group to the public, so there would be outroar if anything happened to them. “Shit. Send it to me”

“Sure?” There was a disconcerting sound to Nico’s voice, where he should have sounded confused or concerned, but the emotion that came out was entirely different. Lewis couldn’t quite put a finger on it, other than the fact it made him slightly uncomfortable. 

“Please, Nico.”

“I will, I will.” There was a pause, then Lewis’s phone pinged with another notification. 

“I’ve got to go,” He explained when he was within eyeshot of the tent. “But I love you, okay? And I can’t wait for dinner.”

“Love you too, darling.” His voice was back to normal again. Maybe Lewis had read into it too much. “Oh, and invite your workmates to drinks with us tomorrow, I mentioned it to Logan earlier.”

“Will do. See you later.” His lips lingered by the screen of his phone for a moment, as he ended the call with a sigh. 

He started playing the video before he had even stepped foot in the tent, craning his neck to look down into his palms. A comfortable-looking Lance Stroll was the only man in view, sitting at the desk of the bank’s central office. He almost looked happy. 

The atmosphere was perfect to create a good impression of the heist crew. Comfortable yet exciting. Exactly what Sebastian needed. It didn’t help when Lance began to speak. 

“ Hello. My name is Lance Stroll. My father is the owner of this bank. I am currently held at this bank, but I am safe and I am comfortable. And I am recording this video completely of my own will.” He smiled gently at something off camera. “ Vettel and his crew are treating us very well. And I love my father. But I do not agree with everything he has done. So whilst I have your attention, I want to tell you the truth about Lawrence Stroll and this bank.”

Lewis paused the video, and paced over to the largest monitor screen, not explaining anything to a confused looking Alex and Logan. He plugged his phone in via the aux cord, and let it flicker up onto the screen, the video playing automatically. 

Somehow, his job was about to get even harder. 

Chapter Text

This particular fuck up was not Pierre’s fault. He had to admit it felt a little good, sitting on the stairs next to Yuki as the two of them watched over (most of) the remaining hostages. Taking the first night shift was not much of an inconvenience for either of them, and besides, the knowledge that Max and Carlos were getting told off upstairs was enough to keep them entertained. It was set up to be an easy night regardless- fairly satisfied that the people they were guarding weren’t going to try anything else. They would struggle to do much even if they wanted to, because Sebastian had insisted that they do everything in their power to keep the hostages with them. 

Pierre and Yuki had made the executive decision that this gave them permission to tie them up. Not tightly, and they wouldn’t dream of causing them any pain, but they had so many zipties going spare, and it only made sense to use them for this. Not that the hostages were particularly pleased with the situation, hands bound infront of them and forced to sit in the dead centre of the hall, where the marble tiles changed colour to create an ornate star. Other than Checo, who still had the same lost look on his face that he came in with, the group were obviously fuming. Pierre couldn’t blame them. Everybody else had escaped the bank, and these five had remained behind. 

Of course, Lando was not with them. Carlos privileges, or whatever they were calling it. Sainz knew what he was doing was dangerous, and it had already caused trouble. It was admirable he was protecting the man, although Pierre supposed that he had to, given what the two of them had been up to. Sleeping with a hostage was worse than shooting a police officer. At least in Sebastian’s eyes. 

Pierre wasn’t going to tell Seb what really happened. He wasn’t a snitch. If they wanted to come clean that was on them. Until then, he was content with spending time with Yuki and enjoying the ride. After all, it wouldn’t be long until they were out of the bank, and much, much richer. 

“Why aren’t they sleeping?” Yuki whispered to him, nodding his head down at the group of five. “Do you think it’s because we tied them up?” 

Unlikely that that was the whole reason, but it certainly wouldn’t have been helping the frustration. “No, I don’t think it is us two that they are upset with.”

“Who then?” 

“Themselves, probably.”

Yuki nodded in sincerity, eyes wide and fully believing everything that came out of Pierre’s mouth. He looked as if he was going to say something else, but was interrupted by a throat-clearing cough coming from the hall below them. 

“I’m not upset with myself.” Oscar, the young receptionist, glared up at the two of them. “I want to know what you’re doing with Lando.”

Standing up, Pierre brushed his trousers down and slowly pulled his pistol from its holster on his leg. He held it out at arms length, vaguely in Oscar’s direction. “Hey. This is a private conversation.” 

“I don’t give a fuck.” Evidenly the gun wasn’t intimidating him, expression remaining perfectly neutral. “Where’s Lando?”

“He’s fine.” Yuki had stood up as well, although not holding a weapon. “He’s okay. Nothing went wrong.”

“Well that is not suspicious at all.” The Finn, Valtteri, muttered down at the floor. 

Trying to make his voice sterner, Pierre lent over the balcony and addressed them. “Look, he’s upstairs and that is all you get to know, okay?” 

“Upstairs with Carlos?”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“ I saw him there .” Oscar spat. “In the office. With Carlos. Whatever support you were trying to get from the public, you lose any credibility with whatever that Spaniard is doing.”

“Oh, okay.” Pierre feigned interest for a while, slowly stepping down a few stairs to get closer. “Maybe you do need to speak to Lando, because I don’t give a shit what he is up to, but I know that he’s not doing anything against his will.” 

“Fine. Let me speak to him then.” 

Pierre sighed. That wasn’t exactly easy, Carlos and Lando had actually gone to bed, unlike the hostages, and he didn’t imagine they’d take well to be woken up. Or distracted, considering what they were much more likely up to. “Later.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue again, but was cut off by Yuki. “You need to get some sleep.” The younger man’s voice was sweet, and Pierre knew that he was well intentioned. 

“I’m not just going to-“ 

“Pierre will make you all a hot chocolate.” Yuki continued, Pierre wasn’t entirely sure why he had been offered up for this job, but was appreciative of the calming measure. “Then you can go to sleep.”

Judging by the look on Oscar’s face, he didn’t agree. He didn’t try and argue it any further, however, which was sensible. Yuki sat back down on the step, smiling with his teeth to Pierre. 

“Alright, I’ll get it. I’m assuming you want one too?” He put on a voice of disdain, but he didn’t really mean it. How hard could it be to make a hot chocolate?

“Yes please!” Yuki beamed up at him. There was no world where he could have said no to that. 

It wasn’t that late, so it was unsurprising that most of the lights were still on. Still, he would be expecting most of the heist crew to be trying to at least relax a bit, especially after what had been such a stressful day. What Pierre was not expecting was the distinct sound of typing coming from the kitchen. Peeking around the corner, he could see Sebastian, curled on one of the plastic chairs, head leaning over his laptop. 

He knocked gently at the side of the door, then repeated it louder when he got no response. 

Sebastian looked up slowly, wiping his eyes before speaking. “Hello Pierre. Everything alright?”

“It’s fine, yeah.” He stepped into the room, eyeing Seb up and down in confusion. He looked tired, really tired. “I was just going to make drinks for everyone. Before bed.”

“Great idea.” He replied, not looking up from the laptop. “I’ll have a coffee.”

Pierre picked up an additional paper cup and added it to the line he was making. “Sure.” 

Seb didn’t say anything else, going back to typing aggressively and sighing intermittently. It was impossible for Pierre to see what he was doing, despite how much he tried, with the laptop screen angled so it was perfectly out of view. But from the way he paused, read, then typed, it was almost as if he was messaging somebody. As he let the kettle boil he tried to step a bit further around the table, but his plan was quickly foiled when Seb slowly folded the laptop over. 

“Oh, I wasn’t-” Desperately, he tried to come up with an excuse that didn’t seem suspicious, but he really had nothing, because he was trying to look at the computer screen.

Sebastian glared at him. “I think the kettle is nearly ready, Pierre.”

“I just wanted to know what you were working on. It’s late, that’s all.”

He was met again with steely dark eyes. Evidently he had hit a nerve. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” 

“Oh, okay. I mean, if you wanted help-”

Hand resting on the top of the laptop, Seb inhaled then sighed out deeply. “Two sugars, in the coffee, please.”

Stop talking and get back to work, that was the gist of it then. And as much as he liked to push his luck, even Pierre knew that this was not a situation to try it in. He backed off to the counter, silently scooping hot chocolate powder into the cups, before pouring Seb his coffee. 

He slid it across the table slowly, making sure not a drop was spilt. Seb took it with one hand and placed it at his other side. Waiting at the counter, Pierre waited for a thank you. He didn’t get one. 

“Will you be up all night?” He asked, making polite conversation with the older man who was very much not acting himself. 

Seb took a sip of the coffee, which must have been far too hot. He looked back down before speaking. “Hopefully not.”

“Right.” Picking up one of the small trays, Pierre carefully balanced the rest of the cups on it, and held it precariously in two hands. “Sleep well?”

“Thanks.” He had begun to type again, then, to Pierre’s surprise, lifted his head and made direct eye contact. “Oh, Pierre?”

“Yes?”

“Will you make sure the door is shut on your way out?”

Although he did as he was told, Pierre couldn’t help but feel uneasy. It was very rare to see Seb so uncaring, on the verge of such anger. Of course, he hadn’t been happy when he caught wind of what had happened with Esteban getting shot and the hostages escaping, but that was resonable, and more importantly the anger wasn’t directed at Pierre. He didn’t think he had done anything wrong- nothing more than usual- so why would Seb be speaking to him so bluntly?

The look he was given was on his mind for the whole walk back, so much to the point where he nearly dropped the drinks. Thankfully he didn’t, because he didn’t particularly feel like going back into that kitchen. Pierre knew that he wasn’t Sebastian’s favourite. He didn’t have the long term alliance like Fernando and Daniel, and he didn’t have the pathetic innocence that Seb seemed to eat up from Charles and George (and, as much as he would never say it to his face, Yuki). No, he was very much there as part of the team, and he had little to fall back on if he fell out of line. Still, until that moment he had never gotten the idea that Seb disliked him. It all felt a little strange, an uneasiness in his stomach.

Back in the main hall things were no better. He was hoping to whisper it through with Yuki, at least get his idea on things. But Yuki was no longer sitting by himself. 

The eerie presence of Fernando was impossible to ignore. He was a step higher than Yuki, with one hand wrapped possessively around his shoulder. Yuki had his hands on his lap, knees tightly together, and was staring down at the floor, not reacting to whatever Fernando was whispering in his ear. The two of them stopped dead still as soon as Pierre entered the room, and stared intently at him. 

He could have dropped the tray. Yuki had never looked at him like that before. 

“Hello Fernando.” He tried to keep his breathing slow, although it was difficult. “You’re up late too.”

Fernando didn’t speak, just smiled at Pierre with a glimpse of white teeth showing through like fangs. Somehow, Pierre managed to hand out the drinks to the hostages without his hands shaking. Not one of them spoke. They had learnt how to deal with Fernando as well. 

“I think we’re all covered here, no?” Pierre continued, as neither Yuki nor Fernando said a word, the hall deafeningly silent in a way that filled him with dread. Slowly, he made his way up to the two of them.

“Yeah. I think so.” Replied Yuki after a short pause, looking like a deer in headlights with Fernando’s arm around him. 

“Cool.” Looking directly at Fernando, Pierre placed himself with purpose on the other side of Yuki. “Don’t you need to get yourself to bed, old man?” 

Fernando rolled his eyes. “You will be alright here?” He wasn’t asking Pierre. He was only speaking to Yuki. 

Yuki nodded slowly. 

Smiling, gentler this time, Fernando patted his back twice. “Good boy.” 

With deliberate slowness, Fernando eased himself up to his feet, and strolled up the stairs, never breaking eye contact with Pierre as he did. Pierre forced himself to keep looking.

As soon as he was gone from sight, Yuki let out an audible breath. He was looking straight down at his feet, biting at his lip.

Pierre gave it a moment longer before speaking, as quietly as he could. “Are you alright?”

Yuki nodded slowly, but didn’t lift his head.

“What’s going on? Why was he here? What was he saying to you? Because Sebastian was in the kitchen and he was acting weird with me as well, has something else happened?” The longer Yuki was silent, the more uneasy Pierre got. “Yuki? What’s happening?”

Finally looking up at him, Yuki’s eyes were welling up, like he was on the verge of tears. “You wouldn’t hurt us, right?” 

“What?” Why would Yuki ever think that? What were people saying about him behind his back?

“I don’t think so. But Fernando was asking about you and what happened with Esteban. And then the stuff about my parents, which Seb says isn’t true, but he hasn’t proved it. And then apparently there’s a traitor-“

“I’m not-“ Pierre felt his heart pounding in his chest. “I’m not a traitor. Yuki, I would never- not to you.” 

“I really didn’t think you would.” It looked as if Yuki was about to cry, sounding slightly choked, but was holding himself back. “Fernando was so convincing.”

Pulling his arm around his friend, Pierre pulled Yuki into his chest. “I would never do that. I promise.” 

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” 

“What was he saying? Is he going to go after me?” He ran his fingers through Yuki’s hair, comforting him. Below them, he knew all the hostages were watching, listening in to what was being said, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“No, I don’t think so. I told him that it wasn’t you.” Yuki sniffed and pulled out of the hug. 

It wasn’t entirely convincing that that would be enough to dissuade Fernando, but at least he has Yuki on his side. He always had Yuki on his side. 

“Is there really a traitor?” 

Yuki shrugged, and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “I’m not sure. Fernando was pretty convinced.”

“Fuck man.” At least it explained why so many things had gone wrong, things had felt so off during this heist. It wasn’t something that Pierre was aware of himself though, and he couldn’t think of a single person that had been outstandingly suspicious. 

His hand hovered over the phone in his pocket before he even realised what he was doing. He needed to get rid of it, somehow, but there was something he needed to check first.

“You said Seb hasn’t told you if your parents are safe?”

Yuki nodded again.

“I’ll find out for you.” He ruffled Yuki’s hair, earning him a scowl. “I promise.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. But don’t tell anyone. It’s only for you.” Pierre laughed as Yuki pulled a disgusted face, grimacing at him. 

“Gross.” He smiled sincerely back at him. “Thanks.” 

Thankfully, the rest of the watch went peacefully. The hostages (excluding Oscar, who was still insisting that he needed to speak to Lando), fell asleep eventually, and by the time that their watch was over Pierre himself felt on the verge of falling asleep. Yuki had been leaning on him for the past hour, and he wasn’t entirely convinced that the younger man was still awake. If he wasn’t, the quiet beep of the alarm on his watch certainly woke him up, pulling himself out of Pierre’s lap. 

“Bedtime?” He whispered sleepily. 

“Yeah.” Muttered Pierre in response. He helped Yuki up to his feet, meeting eyes with the still awake Oscar. “You go wake Charles.”

He frowned back in response. “I don’t want to see them both naked.”

“Me neither.” He smirked. “Good luck.” 

It felt much lonelier as soon as Yuki was gone, even though he knew it wouldn’t be for long. Despite the lights being on, it felt much darker, much later than it had before. His hand entered his jacket pocket, and fished out his phone. The charge was running low, but that wouldn’t be an issue. There wasn’t much he needed to do. 

Opening the messages immediately came up with the mysterious text messages from the day previous. Messages that he had initially ignored, when they had asked him to compromise the rest of his crew, giving this stranger information and assistance with freeing hostages. He wasn’t going to do that. But he was willing to help them a little bit, if they could just reassure Yuki that his parents were safe, and hadn’t been arrested. For the greater good. 

What if I changed my mind?

He paused and waited for a reply. None came. Maybe this person was asleep. Maybe they were making him wait. He sent another message regardless. 

I want to know about Yuki’s parents. What do I have to do?

Still, no reply came. There was no point in sitting around waiting, so he slipped the phone back into his pocket, making sure it wouldn’t light up or make any noise. 

Oscar was still looking directly at him. He slowly raised an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t have that.”

Pierre scowled back at him. “You should be asleep.”

“You know, if they think you’re a traitor, this is not going to help.” He tapped at the floor with his fingers, the sound loud on the marble in the silence of the night. Pierre wished he would at least lie down, but that didn’t look likely. 

“You should be happy.” Waving his hand in Oscar's direction, Pierre’s voice was as close to a shout as he could get it without being loud enough to wake everybody up. “This is the kind of shit that will help you.” 

“Tell me where Lando is and I won’t tell anyone.”

This kid was not seriously trying to blackmail him, after the evening he had already had. “No.”

“Okay. Your funeral.” Oscar didn’t stop glaring at him. 

Sighing, Pierre gestured for him to come closer. “Fine.”

Slowly, Oscar made his way up from the rest of the hostages, and strode up the steps until he was level with Pierre. He leant his head to the side, but remained far enough away from Pierre that he was just out of arm's reach. 

“Look.” Whispered Pierre, noticing that his voice was becoming increasingly exasperated, but doing nothing to change it. “Lando is fine. He’s upstairs with Carlos, and he wanted to be. Lando shot a police officer. I don’t know why, I dont know how he got the gun. But that’s what happened, and that's why he’s still with Carlos, and we don’t want Sebastian to know, okay?”

Oscar swallowed, taking a moment to comprehend it all. “Right. Well. Shit.”

“You’ll see him tomorrow. I’ll make sure of it. But please, please, will you go to sleep? At least try.” Pierre leant his chin down into his hands. 

“He’s safe?”

“Yes. Carlos will keep him safe.”

This earnt him a doubtful expression, but it wasn’t pushed any further. “Tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“Tomorrow morning. I’ll try my best, okay?” It wasn’t a lie. He was absolutely going to try his best, hopefully Lando had calmed down enough to be away from Carlos for a more significant amount of time. 

“No.” Oscar frowned again. “Tomorrow morning.” He stood up, stepping back from Pierre and heading down a few steps whilst still facing the frenchman. 

“Hello guys!” Charle’s cheery voice popped up behind Pierre, far too loud for the time of night. “Having fun?”

“Having the time of my life.” Oscar replied, completely deadpan. 

“Why the fuck is he still awake, Pierre?” A second voice, Max, butted in. “You’ve not gotten yourself a boy-toy too have you?” He added with a laugh, presumably not knowing how much it was going to aggravate the situation. 

“I’m going to sleep now.” Oscar took another step down, nodding once at Pierre, then spinning on his heels. “Don’t worry.”

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Pierre jumped. He turned his head to see it was only Charles, but the logical part of his brain hadn’t kicked in soon enough. “Get some sleep mate. You look exhausted.” 

“Thanks.” He let Charles lift him up to his feet. “I’ll try my best.”

Sleep didn’t come easily. In fact, sleep hardly came at all. There was the gnawing feeling under his skin that someone was going to come after him, that Fernando was onto him for something he hadn’t even done. He lay face up on the pile of blankets they had made into a makeshift mattress, gun laid on his chest with his right hand gripping it tightly. Next to him, Yuki snorred softly the entire night, but it did nothing to distract him from what felt like a ticking time bomb in his head. Waiting for that door to open. Waiting for it to all go wrong. 

It was impossible to clear the thoughts from his mind. He wasn’t a traitor. He wasn’t. He hadn’t told the police anything. But that meant nothing, because he knew Fernando. He knew if he had an idea he would not back down from it. And he didn’t know what he would do to potential traitors, but he didn’t imagine it would be good. Shutting his eyes was a momentous task. It only made his mind run even further, repeating the conversation with Seb, repeating the look from Fernando. His heart was beating so fast it began to hurt in his chest, and filled his ears up with noise that wouldn’t go away. 

He wasn’t sure how he fell asleep, but it couldn’t have been for long, because he woke up feeling more tired than before. He head ached and he hadn’t changed position the entire night. Yuki was still asleep next to him, drooling slightly onto the floor. Someone was knocking lightly at their door, not loud enough to wake the younger man but enough to bring Pierre out of the light sleep he was in. 

“Hey guys.” Daniel's whispered voice came through the door. “We’re doing breakfast again. Ten minutes.”

“Okay.” Pierre managed to splutter out, his mouth dry as it had ever been. “We’ll be there.”

It felt good to have survived the night. Maybe he was being dramatic, maybe Yuki had completely sent Fernando off his trail. Maybe it was never him Fernando was after, the man was hard to read. Still, not being brutally murdered overnight was a win in his eyes. 

He was going to check the phone before waking Yuki, but his plan was thrown up by the forementioned man grumbling as he came back into consciousness, opening one eye to look at Pierre. His hair was sticking up in eight different directions, and if Pierre hadn't been so anxious he would have laughed. “Breakfast time?” He muttered, wiping his eyes. 

“Yes. Daniel just came round.”

“Good.” He sat up, still wrapped in a blanket. “I’m starving.”

If Pierre thought he felt rough, Sebastian looked ten times worse. The German man had deep bags under his eyes, and was sleepily checking in with everybody as they ate. Well, as some of them ate. Pierre didn’t particularly feel like eating, and this sentiment was shared with a good number of the crew (and Lando, who naturally was still there). It was an entirely different mood to the day before, very little talking from anybody but Sebastian. Max was pretty much his normal self, arms wrapped protectively over Charles’s shoulders, and Pierre had to wonder if they were fooling anybody at this point. Daniel also seemed to have almost returned to normal, despite his voice still being a little choked, but sensibly had been holding off cracking any jokes. The mood certainly didn’t call for it. 

Everybody else was in varying states of distress. George was sitting up, which was progress from before, but his eyes were very rarely open and Pierre doubted he was taking in a single piece of what was going on. Lando was behind Carlos, keeping silent and out of the way, and Carlos had a dire expression. Most worryingly, Fernando looked perfectly tranquil. He sat crosslegged on the floor, one of the few people eating anything as he took a long time to slowly eat one of the peaches from the fruit bowl. To Pierre’s delight, he didn’t once look in his direction. It didn’t take him long to work out who was in trouble. His eyes didn’t once leave Carlos, and presumably by extension the trouble also involved Lando. 

Pierre had no way of warning them. But it didn’t seem like he needed to. Carlos was glaring back nearly the whole time, a Mexican standoff of the spaniards. It was a temporary relief for Pierre at least, but it spelt more trouble in the long term. Hopefully they could hold off until the rest of them had secured an exit out of the bank. 

At somepoint through Max’s long explanation of the tunnel system and how far along they were, Sebastian’s head dropped, his elbows thumping loudly on the table. Pierre looked up just in time to see that his eyes had closed temporarily, before flying back open. “I am sorry Max. My bad.” 

“Are you okay?” Asked a wide-eyed Charles. “You don’t look well.”

Fernando finally broke his eye contact, looking over at his old companion. “Did you sleep last night, Seb?” 

“Not much. Well, no.” He sighed. “I had a lot to discuss with one of our informants outside the bank, then I got caught up with some of the news articles. I’m okay. Just tired.”

“You need your sleep.” Fernando stood up, holding out a hand to his boss. “A few hours, I can look after them all.”

“Nando, I can’t just-”

“You can have our room!” Yuki offered up with a smile. Pierre really wished he hadn’t. He couldn’t imagine much worse than Fernando taking control of the operation, even just for a morning. Although Seb definitely had the capacity to be scary, he at least kept a logical head. The same could not be said for the Spaniard. 

“You’re kind, but you need me.” Seb sighed, unable to stop himself from yawning. 

“We need you to be at the top of your game. And you won’t be if you're exhausted.” 

“Fine. Fine. You all know what you’re doing this morning. I’ll check in at noon.” He stood up from his chair without taking Fernando’s hand. “And nobody speaks to Lewis whilst I’m gone. If he phones, you wake me.”

“Yes sir.” Fernando smiled and gave a sarcastic salute in his direction. As soon as Seb had shut the door behind him, he ominously took a seat in the main chair, swinging his legs onto the desk. He took another bite of the peach, juices running down his chin. “We finish our breakfast. Then we get back to work.”

His smile filled Pierre with dread.

Back to work didn’t involve a lot of change for Pierre. He had to reload the various armoury stations, and check everyones ammunition, but there was nothing specificly heist-related to be done that morning. Yuki had been sent with Max and Charles to the vault, as the smallest member of the group he was best set to help with clearing out the tunnels, as the others continued to melt down the gold into more concealable objects. It was lonely without him. It felt dangerous without him. 

Wandering the corridors with nothing to do didn’t help to clear his mind. His footsteps were loud, and he knew that there was nothing to be afraid of, because he would hear anyone coming, and he was the one with the gun, but he couldn’t clear the feeling that he was being watched. He hadn’t seen Fernando since leaving the office, and had no idea where he had sent himself. Hopefully he was at the far side of the bank. 

Subconsciously, something was telling him that he wasn’t.

Getting rid of the phone was a priority. He didn’t want to risk checking it in the open, with anyone able to walk in on him, and George having access to the security cameras. The only safe place he could think of was to head back to the bathrooms, sneaking into the ladies this time instead, with the hope that nobody would come in. 

He chose the furthest away stall, and shut the door. For extra security, he sat down on the back of the toilet and pulled his feet up onto the seat, perfectly hidden away from anyone that tried to come in. With shaky hands, he pulled the phone out of his pocket and waited for it to turn on, the loading screen slower with the lack of charge. It felt like it took centuries for it to change, but eventually the home screen lit up. Pierre let out a sigh of relief, tapping into the messages eagerly.

“Shit.” He muttered out loud accidentally, seeing that nothing had come from the message he had sent. How could they have not read it yet? They had to be ignoring him. Something felt wrong. 

He had no time to contemplate it before the door of the bathroom opened with a creak. Slow footsteps entered, tapping loudly on the marble. Desperately, and as silently as he could, Pierre looked for somewhere to hide the phone. Nothing was good enough. He settled for shoving it back into his pocket, hoping whoever this was would just leave. 

They didn’t leave. The footsteps, unnaturally staggered, stop-started their way across the room, until they stopped just outside the stall he was in. Pierre could see the brown brogues peaking through under the door. 

He couldn’t breathe. His chest was tight and he couldn’t move, couldn’t get the breath out. 

“Pierre?”

Shit. Fernando. Of course it was Fernando. An answer didn’t come to his mind, and he hoped that if he just shut his eyes this would all go away. 

“Gasly, I know you are in there. Open the door.”

Pierre gulped in a deep breath. “I’m on the toilet.” 

“With your feet up on the seat? You are lying. Open the door, I will not hurt you.” Pierre couldn’t help but get the feeling that Fernando might also be lying. 

“I can’t-”

“Open the door or I will kick it down.” That was certainly a threat that he would carry through. 

Individually, Pierre placed his feet down on the floor, and stood up on shaky legs. His hand glanced over the lock, but he couldn’t bring himself to open it. With a deep breath, he shut his eyes again, and twisted it open. 

Fernando pushed the door the rest of the way. They stood face to face, just the two of them. Pierre wished he had literally anyone else with them. A backup. A witness. But they were totally alone. He could feel the older man’s breath on his face. 

“Why are you scared of me?” He asked, reaching out a hand to brush against Pierre’s cheek. Pierre used everything in his power to not pull away. “I only have a question. Is it because of what I was asking Yuki last night?”

“Yes. I guess.” It wasn’t a lie. 

The Spaniard laughed. “I am sorry. I don’t mean to scare you. I only have a question.”

It was a very intense question, considering how Fernando literally had him cornered. There was nowhere for Pierre to take a step back to, nowhere to run. 

“Not that I have no suspicions about you. But I think you can help me.”

Slowly, Pierre nodded, trying not to make eye contact with the man.

“What really happened when Esteban was shot? The police officer, I know that you hate him.”

“What?” It hadn’t exactly been the way that Pierre had expected the questioning to go. “Carlos just-”

“I don’t think he did.” Fernando gave his signature menacing smile. “Do you know how much that gunshot has fucked us over? It wasn’t a simple mistake.”

“It was. I promise it was.”

“Was it you, Pierre?” He pushed Pierre backwards with one hand on his chest, causing him to trip into the far wall. 

Desperately, Pierre shook his head, feeling his hair catching on the tiles. “No. It wasn’t, I wouldn’t.”

Fernando took another step forwards, so they were both fully in the cubicle. With his full body weight he pushed on Pierre’s chest, making it to their faces were almost touching, fiery eyes staring him down. “If you tell the truth, I will let you go.”

“That is the truth.” He tried to pull his head to the side so he could breathe properly, but it was not allowed. He was stuck inhaling Fernando’s breath. “Please, Nando.”

“It doesn’t surprise me that you are stupid.” He scoffed. For one glorious moment, Pierre thought that he was going to let him go. Things only got worse. Fernando shifted the hand over his chest slightly, and Pierre watched his expression change from disappointment, to a furrow of confusion, to one of pure joy. 

Pierre didn’t have to look down to know which pocket he had found. 

“What’s this?” He asked with a smirk. 

Trying to pull away was useless. Fernando snaked a hand into this jacket pocket, and gradually pulled out the phone. 

His smile only got larger as he stared at the blank screen. 

“Please, Fernando. It’s not what you think.”

“I think it is a phone.” Gently he stroked across Pierre’s chest. “Am I wrong?”

“They tried to contact me to give them information. I said no. Look, I’ll unlock it. I’ll show you.” He held out a hand, offering to take the phone back. To let Fernando in. Prove his innocence. 

He didn’t get a chance to. Before he had a chance to react, Fernando lunged forwards with his free hand and yanked Pierre’s earpiece out, throwing it to the floor and crushing it under his shoe. Milliseconds later Pierre joined it on the floor, as the older man kicked up with his knee and got him in the stomach. Pierre groaned as he curled in on himself, desperately trying to get his breath back. 

Fernando lifted him back up by his hair, his scalp burning at the feeling. “I didn’t think you were this stupid.” He dropped the phone down, a large crack splintering across the screen before it settled next to Pierre’s hand. “Go on. Unlock it.”

Feeling tears in his eyes, Pierre reached out with all his might and grabbed the phone, having to put the password in twice before he could get it right. He held up the screen with shaky hands, trying his best to show Fernando. “See. I said nothing. I was only asking for Yuki because-”

Another kick interrupted him. This one hurt less, but still stopped him from speaking. Fernando snatched the phone from him, and scrolled up, then seemed to check some other buttons before tucking it into his pocket. “You are an idiot.”

“Please don’t kill me.” At this point he was fully crying. He had never thought he would be one to beg.

Fernando wiped the tears away with his finger. “Tell me what really happened with the shooting.”

Pierre let out a wet cough, his neck straining from the way he was being held up. “Please.”

Pulling his neck higher, Fernando didn’t speak another word, but the grip on Pierre’s hair tightened to a point where he needed to scream.

“It wasn’t Carlos.” He spat out through gritted teeth. “Lando shot him. The hostage. Lando shot him. Carlos is protecting him because they are fucking, I don't know why- I don't know.”

With relief, he was dropped back to the floor with a thump. 

“There’s some hope left for you after all.” Fernando’s voice was above him still, but he didn’t have the strength to lift his head and look. He didn’t want to look. “You can stay here and think about what you’ve done.”

He wasn’t sure when Fernando left, but he didn’t say or do anything else. Pierre lay on the floor, face down against the marble, with tears flowing out of his eyes. He was bruised, and scared, and mostly embarrassed. Embarrassed that he had let this happen. Guilty that that was all it had taken him to give away the secret, and now he had caused even more issues for the group. The stupid phone had seemed like a good idea at first, but it had gotten him nowhere. 

Slowly, he brought himself back to his feet, trying his best to ignore the aching in his neck. Catching a look at his puffy face in the mirror, he decided he needed to try and fix it a little, to at least try and keep up the appearance of being an elite criminal. He splashed himself with cold water from the tap, and although it didn’t reduce the redness in his eyes, he felt better for it. Ready to face the world. Explain his side of the story to Sebastian and the others before they branded him a traitor. 

Pulling on the door, he made to enter back into the hallway. The door didn’t move. He tried again, but once more made no progress. It only took him a second to work out it was locked. Fernando had the keys to the building. He shouldn’t have been so naive to assume his punishment ended with just the beating. 

He had been locked in, with no food, and no way of communicating with the rest of his team. 

“Hey!” He hit the door with the back of his fist. “Fernando! You can’t leave me in here! Fernando!” 

No response came. He tried again, screaming Fernando’s name as loud as he could. Then a different approach, shouting for Yuki. His righthand man. His partner in crime. Still, nothing. “Please! I can’t stay in here! Help me!”

He tried and tried, shouting until he couldn’t anymore, and hitting the door until his palms stung. Nobody came to save him. 

Eventually he couldn’t give anymore, leant his head forward against the wood of the door, sighing out. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe this was what was meant to happen. All of it was of his own doing, afterall.

Fist clenched, Pierre pulled back and then lurched forwards, slamming it into the wood. Then again, and again. He barely even noticed when he began to bleed. If anything, it felt good.

Chapter Text

Carlos ran his hands through Lando’s hair. It had been a long night. Neither of them had really slept, but that was unsurprising. Somehow, Max had agreed to do a double shift and cover for him, so the two of them had managed to hide away the whole time. Still, the tiredness was still present, and it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Lando hadn’t wanted to go back with the rest of the hostages. Of course, Carlos had offered. He wasn’t going to keep him against his will, but Lando had straight up refused. He hadn’t left his side since it had happened. Clinging to him tighter than anything he had ever experienced before. He had stopped crying fairly early on, to his credit. But it had to have been a lot to go through. 

The younger man had even insisted that he go to breakfast with the heist crew, which has been a stress. He hadn’t even managed to eat anything. Not that Carlos had felt much better, only managing a few bites of the bread with Fernando holding such intense eye contact the whole time. It was like he was looking at Lando, but straight through him. It was unbelievably disconcerting. 

Carlos kept his arms around Lando for the rest of the breakfast. And they left before anyone got the chance to stop them. 

Fernando had taken over Seb’s office. For the morning, at least. They were not well inclined to go anywhere near, so Carlos had hidden them both away in the far side of the bank, closer to the vault but far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear Max and Charles. It seemed to be some sort of waiting room for important clients, mostly empty, bar a plush sofa and a small side table, adorned with a wilted pot of flowers. 

Lando lay on his side, head in Carlos’s lap. They had mostly been silent, and Carlos had to wonder what was going through the younger man's head. It couldn’t be good. Fingertips still caught in his curls, Carlos sighed before finally interrupting the quiet. 

“We need to talk about it, Lando.”

Turning his head, Lando stared back up at him with a frown. His green eyes were rimmed with redness. “I don’t want to.”

Softly, Carlos tried to stroke the worried crease out of his forehead. “I know. But we cannot stay like this forever.”

Groaning, Lando turned his head again so he was facing away. “What if I want to stay like this forever?”

Staying on the sofa with Lando’s weight on him for the rest of eternity didn’t seem like the least appealing thing in the world. Especially if that meant not having to address the shooting. But time would not wait for them, and Fernando was already on their tail, and they didn’t even have a semblance of a plan. 

He leant forwards and pressed a kiss into the mop of hair. “We cannot. As much as I would wish-”

“Don’t you just think it’s shit?” Sighing again, Lando sat himself up with a push of both arms so he was head height with Carlos. “It’s only when I get caught in a bank heist that I find you. I could have waited my whole life to find someone, but it just had to be now.”

“Lando-”

“And then I- well, then I-” Whatever whine Lando had in his voice had fully disappeared, but his eyes did not fill up with tears again. “You know what I did.”

“It was not your fault. I shouldn’t have given you the gun.” It hadn’t been fair on the man to put him in such a position when he was already under such stress. The whole situation had been a mistake on Carlos’s part.

“Do you think he’s okay? That officer I shot?” His eyebrows raised, and he waited for an answer that Carlos was not sure he knew how to give.

“I think he will be, yes.”

“I think they’ll know it was me. The police, I mean. Like, I am fucked when I get out of here.” He paused briefly. “If I get out of here.”

Carlos pulled gently on the side of Lando’s cheek, and leant his head down onto his shoulder. “I will tell them it was me. That I forced you.”

“But you didn’t. And you won’t be there, anyway. Does Sebastian not have plans to evacuate you all out or something?”

“I do not know. I wish I knew.”

“Anyway, you need to get out. See your dad.” Lando continued, nuzzling deep into Carlos’s neck.

Taking a moment, Carlos contemplated it. He had plans to hide away in Spain, change his identity and disappear from the radar, at least until he could get the funds into his dad’s bank account. It would be more difficult with two of them, but it would mean he wouldn’t have to do it alone. 

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“I mean it.” Bending his neck round, he pressed a quick kiss to Lando’s lips. “After the heist, leave with me. I will keep you safe. You will not have to deal with the Police.”

“Won’t Sebastian-?”

“He will understand. Lando, we will have so much money, even from just my share. We can live somewhere together, in secret, away from all this. An island in the caribbean or-”

Lando interrupted him by pulling his head back down and kissing him roughly, not letting go for a good few seconds. “Fuck yes.” He grinned after pulling away, sounding slightly out of breath. 

“My God, you are so beautiful.” Groaning slightly, he looked down as Lando nipped at his neck. He could already imagine it. A proper life together. All they needed to do was survive this last bit of the heist. 

Holding out in this (seemingly as yet undiscovered) room didn’t seem like such a bad idea. All they really had to do for the morning was wait for Sebastian to wake up, as the German did not seem to have the same suspicions as Fernando. It possibly even stretched to him enjoying Lando’s company, as he had not once complained about the younger man being in the office. But whilst Fernando remained in charge there was inherent risk, risk which Carlos would much rather avoid. 

Lando seemed to have the same idea. Or at least didn’t mind waiting a little while, because he was already fumbling to open the buttons of Carlos’s shirt, mouthing down his chest eagerly as he did. “I think we got interrupted before.”

He giggled, slowly teasing around the waistband of Carlos’s dress trousers, brushing over his crotch once which caused the Spaniard’s hips to buck upwards.

“Shit, Lando.”

Lando shushed him. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. Let me take care of you, for once.”

Carlos had to admit that it felt a little wrong, having sex in the middle of a heist. He has mostly gotten over the whole hostage thing, partly because Lando didn’t feel like a hostage at this point, but also partly because it felt so right. Like this would have happened regardless of the scenario they were in. 

There was no guilt when he was bathing in the afterglow, Lando laying on top of him, finally snoozing away in the morning warmth. The skin to skin contact felt right, and Carlos was sure that he could also fall asleep like this. He could feel Lando’s heartbeat, hard against his chest but slow and rhythmic. It was relaxing, like he could pace himself by it. Like he could have that feeling against him forever. 

Just as he felt his eyes shutting, he was interrupted by a voice through his earpiece, which he had forgotten he was even wearing. 

“ Has anyone seen Pierre?” It was Yuki, naturally, and was not an uncommon question for him to ask. The Frenchman did have a tendency to wander, or at least to get lost from his closest companion. “ He won't respond to me.”

Now that was more unusual, because Pierre loved to talk. 

Carlos shifted slightly, the discomfort in Yuki’s voice making him suddenly much more alert. Lando muttered something in his sleep, but thankfully didn’t wake up. Carlos stroked one hand across his back in an attempt to soothe him back to restful sleep. 

Max was the only one to respond, and was as tactful as ever. “ He’s probably having a wank somewhere and has taken his headset off.”

Seemingly, Yuki didn’t find that amusing. “ He’s been gone for over an hour.”

Since the breakfast with Fernando, then. And the other Spaniard was being suspiciously silent over the radio. Carlos didn’t like this. 

“ I’m with the hostages, but we can have a little seach for him.” Daniel also sounded concerned, presumably picking up on the same things Carlos was. “ Georgie, can you track the earpieces?”

Carlos had no doubt that George was tracking them, but the Brit also stayed completely radio silent. The group waited for a response for a good moment, but none came. 

“ Okay.” Max continued after enough silence had been held. “ Charles is going to go look for Pierre.”

“Do you think we need to wake up Sebastian?” Yuki sounded scared. Carlos wasn’t sure he had ever heard him sound so scared. 

He was about to reply, about to answer that yes, waking Sebastian up sounded like a very good idea, and that something was certainly happening under Fernando’s leadership, but he didn’t get a chance to. 

A deep exhale preceded Fernando’s voice coming through the radio. “ There is no need.” It was almost as if his smirk was audible, his face could be perfectly pictured even though only sound could be heard. “ Nothing is wrong with Pierre. He is helping me with a task.”

“But-”

“Yuki, you are doing good work. Remember what we said earlier? Do not worry about him.”

It was sinister, and Carlos could feel his own respiratory rate start to pick up, sweat building up on his palms. He practically jumped out of his skin when he heard his own name uttered. 

“ Carlos. Where are you?”

He couldn’t respond. He didn’t think he could lie to Fernando, but he certainly wasn’t going to give their position away just like that. 

“ Carlos?” He repeated again, a sing-song character to his voice. “ Do not be scared, I just want a discussion.”

Carlos did not fancy discussing anything with Fernando. He kept his lips tightly sealed, and shut his eyes, like he would just stop if he gave him nothing in return. 

“ Tell me where you are, Carlos.”

Charles, pure of heart as he was, tried to help. “I don’t think any of us know where he went-”

“Shut up. I will find him.”

Then the radio shut off, and no one else said a word. 

Carlos took a second to compose himself, tried to slow his breathing back down to no avail. He gripped his arms tightly around the sleeping Lando, holding him even closer against his chest. “Lando.” He whispered, then repeated louder when he didn’t wake up. “Lando, get up. Quick.”

Yawning, Lando shuffled around, eyes still shut. “What?”

Pulling them both up, Carlos tried to wake his companion up quicker. “Fernando is after us. Get dressed.”

“Shit.” Lando’s eyes darted open, and he peeled himself off Carlos, falling backwards onto the floor. “What happened?”

“I do not know.” He tried to explain as he fumbled to get all his clothes back together, pulling each item on hastily. “Pierre has gone missing and Fernando says he will find us, Lando I am sorry-”

“It’s not your fault. What do we do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know where we can go that will be safe.”

“Fucks sake. What does he want? Do you think he knows-” Lando was starting to panic. He had most of his clothes back on, and was hopping to pull his trainers over his feet. 

“We need more people. Witnesses. He won’t hurt us if there’s others around.”

“He’s going to hurt us?” Stopping with just one shoe on, Lando looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I do not know. Shit, hurry up.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying.” He pulled the lip at the back of his trainer, finally getting it on comfortably. “Who do we go to?”

“Max is in the vault, if we can get to him. But we need to be quiet, okay? And stay behind me.”

Pistol in hand, Carlos edged towards the door. He held his breath as he pushed it open, like he was expecting Fernando to be right behind it. Thankfully, the hallway seemed clear, but they were still a good distance away from their destination. 

Lando had both hands tightly around his waist, gripping at his skin to the point where it was almost painful. He followed behind diligently as they entered the corridor, scanning up and down carefully with every step they took. It was difficult to ignore the urge to run, get to their destination quicker, but they had to be quiet. Anything that would draw attention to them could be the end. 

One of the lights in the hallway was flickering. In different circumstances Carlos would have asked Lando if it was his job to fix it, offer to get him a ladder. They didn’t speak a word. The only reassurance Carlos got that he was still behind him was the feeling of his hands, because he didn’t have the courage to take his eyes off the corridor ahead of him. 

As they got closer to the vault, no sound could be heard. No machinery, no voices. Maybe they were still too far away, but he was hoping to have heard Max, some comfort that they were close. Just another ally to protect Lando would be enough to sedate the worry that was building in his brain, someone that he knew would stand up for them. Hopefully Charles would get back with them too, and Fernando would not dare to hurt the man who was practically the heist leader’s son. 

Unless Max was gone too. Pierre had seemingly disappeared into thin air. And Fernando was known for his ability to make people disappear. Carlos did not want to be added to his list. 

“It’s just around this corner.” Lando whispered from behind him, gripping just a little bit tighter to his waist. 

Carlos nodded silently, shuffling slowly along. 

“Is Max-” He began to speak, but Carlos quickly silenced him.

He could hear something. Something that sounded like the slow click of brogues on a marble floor like the ticking of a clock. Edging ever closer, getting ever louder.

“What?” It was so quiet that Lando was practically mouthing the words, Carlos spinning him around so his back was against the wall. 

He pressed his finger to his lips and shushed gently.

“Carlos?” 

Fernando was almost singing, a certain quality to his voice that was nauseating. The footsteps were getting louder. 

“Is little Lando there with you?” He chuckled, voice clearer now. “Hello, Lando.”

“Carlos-” Lando whined. 

Carlos placed a palm over Lando’s mouth, and tried to push them both into the wall like they could disappear into it. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He whispered into Lando’s shoulder. If they stayed quiet enough, Fernando might just keep walking, bypassing the corridor they were on. At least to give them enough time to get somewhere safer.

The footsteps stopped. It felt like Carlos’s heart did the same. He wasn’t sure if they had been seen, but Fernando certainly wasn’t continuing on his path, which meant he was one step closer to heading their way.

“Lando. Listen to me.” His hands caught in Lando’s curls again. “Walk really quietly, back the way we came.”

“No-”

“I will hold him off, just hide until this all calms down.” Trying to smile, he released the pressure from Lando’s chest. “Go.”

“I can’t.”

Carlos kissed him gently. “We’ll be okay. I’ll find you.”

“He’ll hurt you.” Lando whined, not moving from the spot.

“Lando. Go. I will be okay.”

Hugging him tightly, Lando looked up at him with tears welling in his eyes. “Promise?”

“I promise.” Giving the younger man a gentle shove away from him. Lando nodded once, and began to slowly tip-toe back the way they came. 

It stung to turn himself away. He managed nonetheless. It was worth it to distract Fernando, send him off in the other direction. To keep Lando safe until they could get out of this bank. Or at least until they could wake Sebastian. 

He forced his feet to walk fowards, not even bothering with trying to keep quiet. Relaxing his shoulders, and checking once behind him that Lando was far enough away, he stepped out into the next corridor. His knuckles were white with how tightly he gripped his pistol, but it was held at his side, not wanting to risk Fernando shooting him outright. 

“Fernando?” He called, looking down the corridor to where the man was standing. The light above him cast shadows on his face making his expression even more grim than it already was. “You called for me?”

Smiling, Fernando strode forwards. Still disconcertingly slow, letting each step linger for a moment too long. 

“Fernando.” Panicking, Carlos began to speak in Spanish. “ What is it? What do you want?”

He laughed, getting far too close for comfort. He replied in English. “Lando. Where is he?”

“He is not here. What do you want from him?” Carlos held back the urge to run. 

He could feel Fernando’s breath against his chest, the older man running a finger down his jawline, slowly tracing the contour of Carlos’s face. “You are also very stupid. I’ll get back to you later.”

There was no time to react as in his peripheral vision he saw something heavy and dark swinging towards his head. The splitting pain resonating through his skull hit him before he realised what was happening. Fernando had hit him with the butt of his gun. Hard.

The corners of his vision darkened quickly, the room beginning to swim as he felt his legs go limp and give out from underneath him, body collapsing with a heap onto the cool marble. If he could have brought himself to move he would have vomited, but nothing in him was working. As the darkness began to fill his whole field of view, he was vaguely aware of Fernando stepping over his body, avoiding a pool of red that was beginning to form. Blood, he thought, that must have been coming from somewhere on him. It was difficult to think with the pounding in his head, and it was becoming impossible to keep his eyes open. 

Everything went black. Somewhere in the distance, over the ringing in his ears, he heard Lando scream. 

Chapter Text

Lando couldn’t fight it. He went limp in Fernando’s arms, the old man stronger than he looked. Even if he could have escaped, he wouldn’t have been able to gather the strength to put up a fight. 

Carlos was dead. Or as good as. It had been difficult to see, and Lando was no doctor, but the Spaniard was completely still, lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. He didn’t need to be a medical professional to know that that was bad.  

He had been caught embarrassingly easy. It was his own fault. It was his fault Carlos had been hurt. He was a useless excuse for a security guard and an even more useless excuse for a partner. If he had just stayed with Carlos then maybe he would have been fine. 

Initially he had tried kicking and screaming. He cried out for Carlos, trying to wiggle his way out of Fernando’s grasp and run to him. It had been futile, and after having enough of his noise Fernando had clamped his hand tight over his mouth. It hurt, and it made it difficult to breath, having to slow himself down from panic and inhale through his nose. 

He couldn’t scream any more, but that didn’t stop the tears running down his face. Fernando’s hand was getting wet. Lando didn’t feel guilty for that one. 

It was difficult to work out where he was being taken. His eyes were so puffy and he was being dragged so aggresively that the surroundings were moving faster than his brain could keep up. The pace was starting to make him nauseous, and a little part of his brain wanted him to throw up onto Fernando, just to have a little bit of a victory. To get some revenge. 

Wherever they were going, they were going there fast. They did not stop once, and, to Lando’s dismay they did not come across anybody else. It was like the bank had emptied out. He could only hope that someone had found Carlos, helped him back onto his feet. Before it was too late. Lando couldn’t get rid of the feeling deep down in his stomach that it was already too late. 

Fernando stayed eerily quiet. He made the occasional grunt if Lando tried to move in a way that made it more difficult for him to walk, but once he had given in he became completely silent. It wasn’t like Lando wanted to speak to him, he would rather speak to absolutely anybody else, but it didn’t help him to grasp what was going to happen. Where he was going to be taken and why. Was Fernando going to kill him? Is this what it was? He has been warned about the Spaniard. Lando didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die in the bank. He didn’t want that to be his last memory of Carlos. 

A door was opened and then shut again. Lando was ushered back onto his feet for a moment, and graciously Fernando released the grip around his mouth. He sucked in two deep breaths, filling his chest with the clear air. That was all he was able to get in before he was pushed backwards, falling momentarily and landing into what felt like a desk chair. 

Adjusting to his surroundings, he was quick to realise that he had been brought back to the main office. The lights were off, which made it difficult to see, but it was unmistakably where he had been earlier that morning. 

“Don’t move.” Fernando ordered, standing directly infront of him with a roll of duct tape in his hands, nails catching on it to try and rip up a piece. 

Lando was still crying, the tears starting to wet the collar of his uniform. “What did you do to Carlos? What are you doing to me?”

Fernando frowned. “Don’t talk either.” 

He heeded that warning, shutting up immediately. Fernando yanked his arms so they were level with the arm rests of the chair, then began to wrap tape around them, making it impossible for him to move. Lando yelped as it pulled on the baby hairs of his arms, earning a glare from the older man. With no conversation, he moved onto Lando’s legs, taping them down in a similar fashion. 

“Please.” Lando begged. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t.” he sobbed. “I really didn’t.”

“If you don’t want to keep your mouth shut, then I will just have to make you.” Fernando stood up to his full height, much more intimidating now than he had ever been, and ripped off a slightly smaller piece of the duct tape. He plastered it over Lando’s mouth before he had a chance to protest.

“The door is locked. And nobody will hear you.” Taking a step back, the Spaniard looked him up and down, like he was admiring his work. “You will have to listen to me. And then you can tell me what you did. And then I get to have my fun. I have everything I need, right here.”

He didn’t want to find out what Fernando’s idea of fun was. Screaming into the tape, he tried to give a protest, but it was futile. 

“I don’t know if your new boyfriend had told you about our traitor problem.” Pacing back and forth, Fernando had a sickly smile. Lando couldn’t take his eyes off him. But he didn’t know anything about a traitor.

Shaking his head hurt with the way his shoulders were held, but he managed it nonetheless. He had to get his point across. 

“I guess there would be no need for him to. I know all about you, Norris.” His hands lingered over something attached to his belt, that Lando couldn’t quite make out in the low light. “You know you have been in the news? They tell the public everything about you. Everything.”

Lando gulped, managing to hold back the tears, if only momentarily. Trying to not look scared. 

“Police academy? Did you tell Carlos about that one? And don’t get me started on you fucking up my hostage handover. Pierre told me everything, eventually. I have to give it to you, it was very intelligent.”

There was no way of explaining it to Fernando with his mouth gagged as it was. He had barely been at the police academy, he wasn’t part of the police. He certainly hadn’t shot Ocon on purpose. And he had no idea that it was detrimental to the heist to do so. He had gotten too deep. It was too much.

“They hit me in the face, Lando.” Fernando almost shouted, making him jump. “Look, they broke my nose.”

Looking closer, his nose did look a little swollen. It was difficult to have any sympathy.

“Did they sneak you in? Get you to act all scared as a hostage, fuck one of the heist crew?” Fernando pulled the object from his belt and held it up to Lando’s face. The metal of it glimmered. A short, but very sharp looking blade. “Poor Carlos, he was always naive. What do you think he will be thinking, finding out you betrayed him like this?”

Lando leant backwards as far as he could as Fernando gently stroked the blade over his cheek. Not deep enough to draw any blood, but enough that he could feel it. 

“He won’t be thinking very much at the moment. Will he?”

That was the final straw. Lando couldn’t hold back the shout that came out, muffled heavily by the tape but enough that Fernando stopped talking. 

He said nothing, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards as the blade pressed deeper. Lando kept eye contact with the man, but gripped onto the armrests. It was painful, and the feeling of warm blood dripping down his face made him even more nauseous than he already was. 

The grim smile on Fernando’s face gave it all away. He was enjoying this far too much than what was normal, and it didn’t matter what Lando said. He was going to die here. And it wasn’t going to be quick. 

The knife blade cut across his cheek further, sliding over his cheek bones, and it took all his energy not to gag. Fernando appeared to hesitate once he had reached Lando’s temple, having already created a wound that would surely scar if Lando were to somehow get out of this alive. The relief of him stopping only lasted mere seconds, however, as the Spaniard tilted the knife above Lando’s right ear and began cutting down, painfully slowly. 

The pain was far worse than before, Lando’s vision splitting white instantly, and he screamed so loud that it made his chest hurt. Even after the initial shock of it he was gasping for breath through his nose, and he knew he must have looked a state. Blood dripping down onto the floor and mucus pouring out of his face. Pathetic. 

Dropping the knife to the floor caused a clatter, and Lando came back to himself long enough to realise that the worst of the pain had stopped. At least momentarily. There was still a throbbing in the side of his head, unrelenting, and he had to wonder if he even had an ear left. It was difficult to tell.

Pouting, Fernando ripped the tape off Lando’s mouth with one sweeping movement. It tore at his skin and made a harsh tearing sound. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Blood was beginning to pool at his lips. Lando spat it out onto the floor. He lifted his head, and used all his energy to appear brave. “Fuck you. You’re a psycopath. I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes. You did. Admit it.” 

Lando groaned in pain, but didn’t break eye contact. “I didn’t. I’m not working with the Police. I didn’t betray Carlos. I wouldn’t betray Carlos.”

Fernando shrugged. “Fine.” He strode to the back of the room and picked up a plastic canister. “Have it your way. You can die a liar.”

Twisting the top of the canister, he moved closer to Lando. Lando tried to shuffle away, unsure what was about to happen but aware that it was not going to be good. He couldn’t move at all. Watching the older man wearily, he followed him as he began to circle like a shark, and it was only when he began pouring the liquid that Lando realised what was about to happen. 

It was petrol. The smell of it was undeniable, choking him and burning his skin. He screamed again, louder now that the tape had been removed from his mouth. The petrol washed over him, mixing with the blood that was pooling into his clothes. He gasped, tried to shut his eyes and keep it out, tried to stop it from going in his mouth. He couldn’t even manage to call for help with the way it was burning his lungs. The feeling of it on his ear was indescribable, an agony he had never experienced. And he knew it was only going to get worse.

Eventually Fernando had either run out of the gas or had had enough, because he threw the plastic bottle to the ground and walked backwards to the other side of the office. Once again, he grimly looked Lando up and down, admiring what he had done. 

Lando could barely make it out. He was gasping like a fish, trying to shake himself free still, screaming as much as his lungs would allow him.  Shutting his eyes tightly, he waited for the worst to happen. Part of him hoped Carlos was dead so he didn’t have to find him like this. 

Then there was a gunshot. And Lando was sure that would be it. 

He waited for the inevitable pain, the inevitable fiery death he was about to experience. It didn’t come. He didn’t think he was dead yet, because he was still in agony, and that would have been a rough deal. To be dead and still be in pain. He was a little floaty feeling, but that could be much more easily attributed to the petrol fumes or the blood loss. 

Before he could open his eyes and check what was happening, there was another gunshot, then a third in quick succession. This was followed by a loud thump, and then silence. 

Lando wiggled his toes first, then his fingers. They were still there. Cautiously he opened his eyes. He was still in the same room. He was still alive. 

Fernando was no longer standing over him. It took him a while to catch on, with his brain still feeling like he was underwater, but eventually he put two and two together. He wasn’t dead. Fernando was. 

The body was lying still at the other side of the office, thankfully facing away so Lando couldn’t see his face. That would have been a step too far. But he was undeniably dead, unmoving and bleeding. Even in the low light, Lando could tell he wasn’t breathing.

He gagged again, this time with the combination of everything feeling like he was actually going to vomit.

“There’s a paper bin by your feet, if you're going to be sick.” It was a voice Lando felt like he recognised, but the sound of it made him jump. He hadn’t even realised anyone else had been in the room with them, but he was very glad for it. 

“I’m fine.” He swallowed it back down, unable to reach the bin if he tried. His head was still swimming, but he wanted to know what was going on. “What-? Who-?”

“I really did not think you would get yourself into this level of shit.” The voice came from behind him. Lando looked over his shoulder as far as he could, and could just about make out George lying on his side with his pistol on the floor infront of him. Perhaps Fernando had forgotten he was there, or more likely hadn’t considered him a threat in his current state. “I should have remembered what you were like.”

“Do we know each other?” Peering at him, Lando tried to remember his face. Admittedly it was difficult, because he was fairly sure the petrol had done his vision some damage. However, other than being the guy who had gotten himself shot, there was no recognition. 

“For fucks sake Lando.” Now that tone he recognised. And he was fairly sure that if George could move he would have gotten up and slapped him over the head. “Use that little brain of yours. Police academy.”

“Hey, I just nearly died-” He croaked out, but he did manage to place the man. “Oh, Alex and George. Why are you here? Oh-” The pieces finally clicked into place, and even feeling as delirious as he was, he worked out what was going on. 

“They’re going to come up and help us now. They’ll have heard the gunshots.” George grimaced, staring out blankly at the other man. Lando had to wonder which of the three men in the room looked in a worse state at that moment. “Just- please just leave things to me. He was going to kill you, so I killed him.”

“You took your time.” Lando huffed weakly, adding on a giggle to make sure the sarcasm came across. 

“Sorry. Had to wait for him to be far enough away from you.”

“I texted Alex, a few months ago.” The conversation was more to keep himself awake, because the room was starting to swim. 

George laughed, turning his pale face downwards towards the ground. “Alex never replies to his messages. We invited you to our wedding.”

It was unsurprising that they had gotten married. As far as Lando could remember the two of them had been inseparable. It had been quite annoying at the time. He was a little sad to have missed the wedding though. “I moved house. Back in with my parents.” The sound of his own voice felt weird, like it had been burnt away.

“Right.” George muttered back. It was difficult to tell how with it he was, the conversation slow and pained from both parties. 

Waiting for aid seemed to drag on for far too long, Lando feeling more and more sick with every second that passed. He hoped that Carlos was well enough to come and find him, but he wasn’t optimistic. It wasn’t Carlos’s voice at the door. Even as more people joined he didn’t hear that characteristic accent, and with what little brain power he had left he began to worry. 

He thought he could hear Max calling through, threatening to kick the door in. What sounded like either Charles or Pierre was advocating for waking Sebastian, and multiple other voices chipped in with advice. No Carlos. Did they know he was missing? He didn’t have the strength to call out and ask them, and was only vaguely aware of George saying something into his earpiece and then blinding light as the door clicked open. 

He knew he must have looked a sight, but couldn’t even see through his tear-filled and chemically burnt eyes who was there staring at him. All he knew was everything hurt, and Carlos wasn’t there. 

In the background there was shouting, but he didn’t think it was at him. No one paid him much attention for some time, and his eyes began to droop shut. It was only when the tape was cut off his arms that he was brought back to reality, barely able to feel the pain of it over everything else. 

“Come on mate, let's get you sorted out.” He didn’t open his eyes to it, but groaned at the sound of Daniel’s voice, allowing himself to be lifted into his arms bridal style. He leant his head into the Australian’s chest and cried. 

“Carlos?” He asked, hoping the point would come across because he could barely get words out. 

“He’s alright.”

Lando didn’t know whether to trust him. “I can’t see him.” He croaked.

Daniel didn’t say anything else, just continued carrying him down what was presumably a set of stairs, and then gently placing him down on a more comfortable blanket. Lando reached out at the loss of contact, not wanting to be left alone. 

“I’m just gonna get some stuff to clean you up, okay?”

“Please-” He tried to ask Daniel to stay, but to no success. There were still tears flowing as he rolled onto his good side, unable to open his eyes in the bright light of wherever he had been taken. 

Fortunately comfort came almost immediately, as arms wrapped around him and pulled him up towards their chest. He leant into it, not even caring who it was, but with knowing familiarity. “You’re alright now.” Oscar, in his unwaveringly stoic ways, sounded unfazed by how Lando looked, not bothered by the blood and petrol on him. 

“Osc-”

“It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“Oscar, I’m sorry.” He weeped, the words burning his throat.

“I know.” Oscar ran his hands through his hair. Just like Carlos did.

“Please. Take me to Carlos. I need to see him.” He begged, not knowing how much Oscar knew. Why would the young Australian have been told anything? Lando hadn’t seen him in hours, and all that he would likely have been aware of is that gunshots had gone off and a bleeding Lando had been brought back to him. Lando had to ask anyway. 

Oscar squeezed him tighter, and said nothing. 

Chapter Text

He hadn’t expected to kill Fernando. He hadn’t really wanted to either, but it had gotten far too close to the Spaniard incinirating all three of them for George’s liking, and, well, what had to be done, had to be done. 

The Spaniard didn’t fall with the first bullet. George was impressed he even managed to hit him from the angle he was at, and the fact that his arm didn’t want to lift in the way he asked it to. He had caught him in the side, which George briefly had time to think about the irony of that whilst Fernando turned to him with a look of betrayal. He probably deserved that. 

Before he could say a word, George shot him in the head. Then he shot him once more, just to be sure. 

It was almost certainly the coolest he had ever been. It was a shame the only person there to witness it was Lando, who had his eyes shut and was gagging loudly. Alex would probably enjoy the retelling, at least. Well, perhaps enjoy was a stretch, but at least Alex was required to listen to it. 

He was going to go mad over this one. As mad as he was capable of getting, which wasn’t very, but it was almost certainly going to match the spew of messages he sent when he first found out George had been shot. George wondered whether he had heard these gunshots. Probably. He would be typing like mad into his end of the encrypted messaging system, anxiously awaiting a reply. George would get to it when he could, but his laptop was out of arm’s reach, and he didn’t think he could get himself up. Even if he could, it would look heavily suspicious to be sitting typing after what he had just done. 

It took them too long to get there. After an incredibly stilted conversation with a heavily bleeding Lando (who obviously did not remember him, and did not yet seem aware that his ear was completely gone), the sounds of the remaining heist crew battering at the door drowned any other sound. From what he could gather, Max was threatening to kick the door down, whilst Yuki was trying to kick the door down. Charles was nattering away about waking Sebastian, nobody replying to the one sensible idea. George had to admit he had become very close to them all. He felt a little bad, all things considered, because on the most part they weren’t bad people. 

Still, this was his job. He did what had to be done. 

George was tempted to let the chaos outside continue for a bit longer, it would have given him more time to think and really reinforced the fact that he was not well enough to take on Fernando by choice. However, Lando had not spoken for a good minute and it was difficult to tell if he was still moving. 

Sighing, he reached an aching arm around he turned his earpiece on (because, of course none of the others had thought to use it), and spoke as clearly as he could. “Seb has a key. Please don’t kick the door down.”

There were plenty of replies to that, instantly filling his ears with nonsense. He didn’t have the energy to reply to them all, instead staring out to where he had dropped his gun infront of him and trying his best to check that Lando was still breathing. He was, as far as George could tell from the sideways angle. 

Outside the chattering continued, only getting louder and faster whilst the key turned in a door, then fell suddenly silent. 

The only way to describe the look on their faces was bewilderment. Seb in the centre, eyes darting around the room, frowning worriedly. Max and Charles stood either side of him, Charles with his mouth falling open but no words coming out. It was only Yuki, sticking just his head around the door frame, who made any sound. 

“What the fuck?” With wide eyes, he stared at where Fernando was laying, then up at Sebastian. 

George barely had to try to turn on the tears. They welled out, slowly following gravity and pooling sideways down his face. He had always been good at crying. Finally it was serving a purpose. However, the blurriness in his vision didn’t stop his vision from following Sebastian as he entered the room, blank expression on his face and he stared down at Fernando and silently fell to his knees. 

That only made the crying worse, a sob racking George’s body which sent waves of pain down his side. There was a hand running comfortingly through his hair, and he looked up to see Charles, who must have come straight over to him. 

“Mate, what happened?” Charles was whispering, speaking only to him. “What did you do?”

“Charles-” He whined, partly thinking the man should be able to work it out himself, and partly trying to up the drama. They needed to feel sorry for him. 

Charles’s hand on his hair felt nice, and he let his eyes close briefly when the Monegasque didn’t press him with any more questions, just comforted him silently. The room was fairly quiet, all things considered. Sebastian was saying something in German, although it was difficult to tell what emotion there was behind it. 

“Is he awake?” It was Max, sounding far above him. 

George peeled his eyes open to stare at him. His body was shaking, which wasn’t as intentional as the crying. It kept doing that. 

“He’s still so sick.” Explained Charles, as Max knelt down so he could be seen properly. 

The Dutch man cleared his throat, pausing with thought before speaking. “Did you do this?”

Biting his lip, George nodded. 

“Fuck. Why?”

“It was-” Trying to lift his head, he looked around the room. Lando was still taped to the chair, but it looked like Daniel was speaking to him. “Lando-?”

“Charles. Get away from him.” There was the distinctive click of a pistol being armed, and George wanted to close his eyes again as Seb stood up from his squatting position and glared at him as he made his way over. 

Charles began to protest, arguing back briefly but quickly being shut down by Seb, who put himself infront of Max and crouched in a similar position. There was no gun being pointed, but its presence was all too obvious. George couldn’t detect any malice behind his expression, but it felt uneasy, the older man reaching down and stroking his shoulder softly. 

“George.” He sighed. “You’re not in trouble. But you need to tell me exactly what has happened.”

“Is he dead? I didn’t mean to-”

For the first time, Sebastians face showed any emotion. It was one of anguish. “Yes.”

“Shit.” Max muttered from behind him, the only other person making a sound.

“Fuck. Seb, I’m so sorry it wasn’t-”

“Just tell me what happened.” His voice was louder now. Angrier. Practically shouting. For someone usually so calm, Seb could really change when he was upset. It had never been directed at George before. “George.”

“Seb, I dont think-” Charles placed a hand on his shoulder, which was gently brushed off. 

Sebastian visibly took in two deep breaths. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “Please. Speak.”

“He just went mad.” George coughed out, feeling his cheeks flush red as he did. “I don’t know what did it- he brought Lando up and tied him to that chair, then he was gonna kill us all unless-”

None of it was a lie. If anything, he didn’t doubt that the rest of the crew would have done the same thing had they been in his position, despite their different alligences. Something had been deeply wrong with Fernando. 

“He said he was working for the Police.” He continued, as he got the feeling everyone was waiting for more. “Lando, I mean. I don’t think he is, but- well, with what’s been happening with Carlos-”

“I had my suspicions with that. So they are fucking?” Seb frowned. When no one answered, he looked around the room, staring at the sheepish faces. “I will take that as a yes. Fuck.”

The room was silent as they watched Seb slam his fist down into the floor then wince in pain. To George, it looked like he was barely holding back tears, his eyes red and watery. 

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, like it would help. 

“No. It’s not your fault.” Sighing, Seb sat down fully onto the floor, knees halfway up to his chest. “Will you all just- just leave me. For a moment.”

“What about-” 

“Take Lando downstairs, make sure he’s okay. Someone find Carlos as well. We will meet up and discuss this. Later.” His head fell into his hands. 

Movement picked up around him, and George watched as Daniel manouvered a now limp-looking Lando out of the chair, and picked him up bridal style. Seb had returned to sitting silently next to Fernando, who had been rolled onto his back, unmoving as he stared down. 

“I’m not picking you up like that.” Max frowned, arms crossed as he looked down at George. 

“Well it’s not going to be Yuki’s job, is it?” 

The shorter man in the corner of the room turned to his voice, evidently not listening to any of the conversation from the shocked look on his face. “I still haven’t found Pierre.”

“Go look for him.” Smiled Charles gently. “We’ll sort out the rest. George, can you not stand?”

“I’m willing to give it a try mate.”

That was perhaps a little optimistic. He couldn’t hold back the groan that turned into a scream as Max and Charles took either arm and hiked him up. Before he was even there, he felt his legs give way beneath him and his vision went fully black, gravity pulling him forwards and back towards the floor.

“Well.” Stated Charles, once all three of them had gotten their breath back. “You will have to carry him.” 

Max scoffed. “He’s like eleven feet tall.”

“I thought you were so big and strong?”

“Fine.” He grumbled, although sending an unmissable look of fondness to Charles.

Whatever position Max picked him up in was not dignified, but was certainly more bearable than walking. It also had the hidden advantage that he could order Charles about a bit whilst he was being lifted, getting him to bring various belongings (most importantly, his laptop), along with them. As they walked, his view was mainly that of the tiled floors, swinging slightly with each of Max’s steps. The Dutch man was obviously trying to be gentle, although not making a big deal of it, because there was barely any pain, and the swaying movement was almost sleep inducing. He was so very tired. 

When they stopped, they were in the vault. It had become Max and Charles’s defacto spot throughout the heist, and George didn’t want to know anything more about what they got up to in that space. It made sense they would bring him here, especially if they had to get back to work, which seemed like the right thing to do seeing the bank was verging on detonation. 

“This better not be where you two fuck.” He grumbled as he was placed down on a beanbag which must have been dragged in by the pair. 

“It’s not the only place we fuck.” Grinned Max. “That one’s our favourite.” 

He pointed to a stacked pile of money, presumably not as neat as it had once been. It was impressive, certainly. George had never seen so much money in his life. That coupled with the operation that seemed to be going on with melting metals- fine gold-coloured cubes piled up next to a hole that was half drilled into the floor- was enough to make his jaw drop. He held it together though. There were appearances to keep up, after all.

“Disgusting.”

“What?” Hand on his hip, Max looked completely unbothered. “It’s not like we’re taking it with us anyway.”

“I’m going nowhere near that shit.” Leaning back with a groan, George shut his eyes briefly.

Max hummed. “Not like you could get there anyway.”

George opened one eye to look up at him, but was stopped from saying anything more as Charles wrapped an arm around the Dutch man’s shoulder and gently directed him away. “Why don’t you go look for Carlos? I will get him comfortable.”

“Sure.” Leaning forwards, he pecked a kiss onto Charles cheek, and stamped out of the room. 

Once he had gone, Charles strolled over, and placed the laptop and a bottle of water down next to George. He then took a seat on the metallic floor, almost awkwardly positioned.

“I don’t want to bring it up. If you don’t want to talk about it. But you didn’t do it on purpose, did you?” 

George didn’t have to ask what he was talking about.

“No. I didn’t think-“ He sighed, looked Charles deep in the eyes, and then lied through his teeth. “I didn’t think it would kill him.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Breaking promises was the least of his worries. 

Running a hand through his hair, Charles broke the eye contact. “I do not know what this will do to Seb. I think, well, he hated Fernando sometimes, but he has always been here.”

“I’m sorry.” Knowing that Charles had been as much a part of that dysfunctional family as Seb, knowing that even he had gotten along with Fernando, most of the time.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” 

“Right.” It was a good job Charles was so gullible. Because it was absolutely his fault. The more they talked about it, the more difficult it was for him to show a neutral emotion. If someone more suspecting than Charles was listening- or even Max came back into the room- he would be getting anxious of being found out. 

Neither said another word for a moment. It made the atmosphere even more tense, but George couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. Shutting his eyes, he leaned his head down onto its side, and tried not to fall asleep. His head felt so heavy, like it was full of cotton wool. 

The moment of peace was brief. Max barreled through the open vault door and was instantly talking his mouth off.

“Hey, Charles? Can you come out here? And bring some water and some cloth or something.”  He sounded frantic, but it was difficult for George to open his eyes and look. He managed just a slither of sight just in time to see Charles grab his water bottle and some of the rags from Max’s equipment box. He didn’t say anything to George before disappearing.

At some point, George must have fallen asleep again. For a decent amount of time, it seemed, because he woke up to Carlos sitting directly in front of him. The Spaniard had his legs crossed and was staring almost blankly over his shoulder towards Charles, who was pacing around the vault. Interestingly, Max was quiet, wrapping a white bandage around the Spaniard's head with a look of concentration on his face.

“What happened? What’s up with him?” He tried to ask, but his words came out garbled and sleepy.

“Good, they’re making about as much sense as each other.” Max was easy enough to understand, biting a piece of tape off with his teeth and sticking down the bandage. 

Charles stopped paces and squatted down next to George, running his fingers through his sweat soaked hair. It was comforting, and he didn’t mind it one bit. “He’s alright mate. We think Fernando got to him as well.” 

Well that couldn’t be true. If there was one thing he knew, it was that Fernando was not still at large. “Fernando’s dead.” 

Charles sighed. “Yes. I know that. I mean before. You’re burning up again George, when are your next pills due?” 

He didn’t even know. He had no idea what time it was, and would probably not find out until he could get back into his laptop.

“Wait-“ Carlos spoke for the first time, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. “Fernando is dead? What happened?”

It was Max’s turn to sigh. “We’ve been through this. He went crazy and George shot him.”

“Holy shit. I need to find Lando.” 

“Yeah, you said already mate.” Charles sounded a little exasperated.

“This is a fucking nightmare.” Throwing the remaining bandages across the room, Max talked to Charles as if they were alone in the vault. “We need to get out of this bank. Before we end up like these two.”

“Don’t be mean.” Charles stroked across George’s cheek. His hands were warm. “Seb has a doctor on the outside.” 

“So Fernando is dead.” Carlos continued, still looking utterly confused. “And Lando is - okay, yes?” 

“He’s alright.” 

“So what happens next?”

“Seb is sorting things. And then we’ll have a meeting in a bit.” Max sat down on the floor, handed Carlos the water bottle and some white pills. “Take these. I don’t want you complaining about a headache.”

“We are giving Seb a bit of space for now.” Explained Charles as Carlos obediently swallowed the tablets. “It has hit him quite hard.” He added with sincerity. 

There was that feeling of guilt again. The freezing temperature of the vault wasn’t helping either. He felt rubbish.

“Can I have some of those tablets too?” George asked, turning his head to look up at Charles. 

Max threw the silver packet across to the Monegasque. “Good idea actually. Might bring the fever down a bit.” 

George’s hand shook again as he lifted the bottle of water to his mouth and gently took a sip, then popped in the two tablets that Charles handed him. He didn’t even know what they were, but he was willing to take anything that would help. “Thanks.”

The pills made his head a bit foggy. Although still aware that Max and Charles were talking above him, and vaguely able to follow the repetitive nature of the conversation from Carlos’s side, it felt like his brain was full of cotton wool. His eyes were shutting again. It was so difficult to keep them open, to stay present. George knew he had to do it, had to at least try- not only to do his job well, but to keep himself alive. Stay undiscovered. Be able to react to whatever came next. But, God, it was difficult. 

At some point he must have fallen asleep. Again. His neck was almost as painful as his side with the position he was bent into, and something was irritatingly nudging at his shoulder. Keeping his eyes shut, he waited for it to stop. It didn’t. The shaking only intensified, verging on painful as it moved his body. 

“I think he’s fast asleep.” Max’s voice sounded like it was miles away, almost surreal sounding. “Those tablets are strong. Wow.”

“He is breathing, right?” Evidently the tablets hadn’t worked as well on Carlos, who if anything sounded more coherent than before. 

Max gave him another light shove. It was at the point where George felt he could have opened his eyes, but he didn’t particularly want to wake up to Verstappen’s gawking face, and regardless, his head was pounding. “Yeah, I think he’s still breathing.”

“Max. We need to go. You heard Seb.” There was an ounce of pressure, of urgency, in Charles’s voice, that made George wonder what had been said whilst he was asleep. 

“I don’t even think I could carry him like this.”

“Fine. We leave him.”

“Mate, look at him.” There was something even more surreal about Max fighting in his corner. “We can’t just leave him on his own.”

“If what you say is true,” Carlos piped up again. “Maybe he would be safer here.”

“We should keep you here too by that logic. Ow- Carlos.” The Monogasque yelped, louder than anyone else had been.

“You’re going to take me to Lando. Stop fucking around.”

Max swiftly brought the conversation back on topic. “Charles. You know Seb best. Do you think he would-?”

Sighing, Charles paused before answering. “Usually, no. But it has been a bad heist. And he hasn’t slept. I’ve seen him lose his cool before, it wasn’t good.”

“Okay. Fine. Whatever. We leave him for a bit.”

Part of George didn’t want to be left- he knew it was important to be at these meeting, if only to give Alex a good update of what was said. But a larger part of him didn’t want to move, and definitely didn’t want to deal with Sebastian if what Charles was saying was true. 

Perhaps it was a mistake, but he kept his eyes closed. It didn’t take long for the chattering of the others to cease, and their footsteps could no longer be heard. Apprehensively, George peeled his eyelids open, wiping them clean from the dried tears that had somehow formed. The room was bright- too bright, and somehow felt even worse than the office upstairs had. He couldn’t stop the groan that came out of his mouth, and then the wince that followed when he jostled his side too much. 

He felt rubbish. He wanted to go home. His mind went to Alex, to their flat, to the insane amount of cats that he had waiting for him. Alex had probably adopted another in the time he had been absent, no one there to tell him what a bad idea it was and that they couldn’t possibly afford any more animals on their salaries. He wanted to get back to Alex, back to their warm bed so he could sleep properly and stop hurting. 

That couldn’t be done yet though. There was still work to be done. He hadn’t even told Alex what had happened yet. That should be the priority. Not worrying about getting himself home.

With some effort, he rolled over and reached to where Charles had deposited his laptop. He dragged it towards himself with one hand, and flipped the top open, waiting for it to turn on. The first password let him onto the system, then a second let him onto the software he and Alex had so carefully installed weeks previously.

They had a text chat, and it was always the first thing that George checked. To his annoyance, Alex straight up refused to keep it professional, with his emoji usage and lack of grammar. It was a little endearing, as much as he hated to admit it. Very Alex. 

They hadn’t sent anything else since they had said goodnight the day previously. Alex hadn’t sent a good morning yet, which was probably because he was running late, but did add an element of worry. It wasn’t that early. 

He typed a quick message, nothing too informative, just a quick good morning to get his attention. Staring at the screen, George only gave it a moment before typing another message, then sighed before adding another.

Upstairs they could be working out what was going on, working out what he was doing, and George was completely powerless to stop it, waiting for his husband to reply. His side hurt, and his skin was burning and Alex still wasn’t replying and it didn’t take much until he was crying, again. 

Maybe he hadn’t given Alex long enough, but he didn’t feel like waiting anymore. He couldn’t just keep speaking to him through text, and no one else was anywhere near him to know what was going on. There was a voice call software. They hadn’t used it yet. It was under another layer of passwords, but George barely hesitated before opening it and calling Alex. He couldn’t wait anymore. 

Of course he answered this immediately. “ Georgie? What’s happened? Are you okay?”

Hearing his voice only made things worse, and George was racked with a sob, and the tears would not stop. 

“ George? Answer me ?” 

“Alex.” He managed to choke out. “I fucked up.” 

“ Okay. Okay.” The panic was evident in his voice, barely noticeable to an outsider but George could always tell. “ I’m driving, but I’ll pull over, one sec. Are you safe?”

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” He didn’t know if that was true, but he was willing to lie to Alex about that one. He was getting very good at lying. His heart was going so quickly, and it hurt to get a proper breath in with how much he was crying. 

Alex sighed in relief. “ Okay. Good. Hey, breathe, alright, I’m here. I love you.” 

“I love you. I miss you.” 

“ I know . I miss you too. Not much longer now, just breathe for me, Georgie.” The distinctive click of the indicator was audible in the background, and Alex stopped talking momentarily, presumably pulling the car off the road. “ Right. Do you think you can tell me what’s happened?”

“Alex. I didn’t mean to, but Fernando had Lando tied to this chair, and it was just me. And Seb is so cross and they’re going to work it out. They’re going to.” 

“Right. You’re going to have to repeat that one. ”

George inhaled deeply, and held back his tears as well as he could. “Alex. I killed Fernando.” 

“ Shit.”

That set off the waterworks once again, and this time there was no stopping it. Alex kept talking to him, but he couldn’t hear it. His side hurt, and he felt like he was going to be sick, and someone was definitely going to hear him, and-

“ George? Don’t worry about it, okay. I love you.” 

He nodded even though Alex couldn’t see him, and tried to wipe the snot from his face with the back of his sleeve. He wanted Alex there with him.

“ You’re doing great. I love you so much.” 

“I love you.”

Chapter Text

It had been a roller coaster of a day. The way things had been going recently, Lewis was getting used to roller coasters. 

Things had started well. He had woken up in time, for once, and somehow slept through Nico waking up early and getting himself ready, then taking the initiative to start breakfast. Whatever vegan version of an English breakfast he had cooked up was just about edible, but really it was the thought that counted. And it meant a lot. Nobody had ever made him breakfast before.

He left with a kiss on his cheek in exchange for the promise of dinner with the rest of his squad. That night, after work.  

Work had started off okay as well, the brief handover from the night team informed him that nothing had happened at all, which was reassuring. He checked in with Logan, who was working away at one of the laptops, then sent Alex back to the central police station to speak to Kimi, if only to keep the boy occupied. He even managed to find the time to send a quick message over to Estaban, who was hoping to be released from the hospital that morning. Things were looking up. 

Then he awaited the daily phone call from Sebastian. And it didn’t come. 

Lewis didn’t allow himself to worry, not initially. There was no reason to worry, and if anything things falling apart for the heist crew inside would work in his benefit.  And if everything was going to plan, things should have been falling apart for the heist crew. 

It was just about lunchtime when things went to shit. Lewis was sitting on his chair, overseeing the hard at work Logan and the new rookie who had been brought in to replace Esteban- Franco was his name, if Lewis had remembered correctly, but it had been difficult to pick up a lot from his very long winded introduction. The kid had barely stopped talking the entire time they were there- to him, to Logan, to the poor cleaner who came in only briefly. It was good that he was keen. Somebody had to be.

Just when he was considering leaving to buy himself something proper for lunch (Nico hadn’t shown up with anything pre-made yet), he was interrupted by an unmissable sound of gunfire, which practically threw him from his chair and into action. 

“Was that from the bank?” Asked Franco, eyes wide in excitement. 

Lewis nodded, logging into the nearest computer. “Sounds like it. Logan, do you think you can try and get some cameras up? And can we get the swat team on standby.”

“Yeah, I’m on it.” 

They paused and Lewis winced as another two shots followed in quick succession. 

“Holy shit? Are we going to have to- like- get guns and go in?” Franco was probably a little too close to Lewis. He was starting to miss Esteban a bit. “This is so cool.”

“Hey, Franco? Do you think you could go call Alex and ask him to come back? Maybe speak to him outside, we wouldn’t want the signal to interfere.”

The young Argentinian jumped up eagerly. “Of course!”

“There’s no cameras.” Explained Logan, not looking up from the screen. “There’s our ones outside, but there’s nothing on them.”

“Right. Any analysis of the shots? See if you can work out where they came from in the building. Or speak to someone that can.” He added, thinking that Logan probably would not know how to do that. 

In his head, he was expecting more shots. Then he would allow himself to get worried. Properly worried. Because he knew Sebastian, and knew that executing hostages randomly would not be  his style. Some of his company, perhaps, but not Sebastian. As long as he could get proof that the hostages were okay, they didn’t need to go into the bank.

He held his breath waiting for another gunshot, hand on the trigger for the earpiece to send the Swat team in if he were to hear anymore. The air stayed silent. 

“What are you going to do?” Asked Logan, after a pause. 

Lewis hesitated. Really, he should go into the bank, not knowing what was going on, and knowing that something bad was happening. But they had done so well so far, and to mess everything up now would ruin his reputation. If anything, it would be even more of a risk to go into the bank completely blind, without having confirmation of a good reason to do so. 

“I’m going to phone Sebastian.”

That was easier said than done. The phone rang through three times, with no response. The third time he let it ring out, then threw it onto the desk with a clatter. It bounced over and landed besides Logan, who looked across at him with blue eyes wider than Lewis had ever seen them. He muttered an apology, but it seemed to do very little for the anxiety in the room. Contemplating, he rubbed his palms together, thinking of the next step. Not wanting to risk anything further, when the expectation was that he would. 

Shutting his eyes, he lost himself in his thoughts briefly, then decided sometimes the best action was to do nothing. At least for the brief moment. No more gunshots came, and he felt a little satisfied that he was making the right decision. It was difficult to get rid of all the doubt. 

“I think it's from the main office.” Logan finally spoke up, standing up and pointing at the printed floor plan of the bank. “This one, here. I think it’s where the boss is. Or used to be, I guess.” 

“That’s where Seb has been staying.” He felt the anxiety in the pit of his stomach get worse, and he couldn’t quite pin the reason why. “Where I’ve been calling.”

“Maybe that’s why no one’s picking up.”

Before Lewis had a chance to reply, Franco made his loud re-appearence into the tent, swanning whilst still chatting on the phone, although in Spanish, so presumably not still speaking to Alex. “Are we doing the SWAT team?”

“No. Not just yet.” Lewis replied bluntly. “Did you get through to Alex?”

“I think he must be in with Kimi, he didn’t pick up. I will try again later, no?.” Franco grinned. Lewis couldn’t quite get his head around what was going on in the young Argentinian’s mind. “So did you speak to Sebastian? What is the plan now?”

“He doesn’t know, man. He can’t get through to him.”

From somewhere, Franco popped what looked like a small biscuit in his mouth, and continued to talk with his mouth full. “Why don’t you call one of the other phones? There must be more in the bank, right?”

“I think they’re blocked-”

“Have you tried, though?” Perhaps the boy was onto something. If the cameras had been unblocked, if only briefly, maybe more phones were available. 

“Logan. Get me that list of numbers.”

It took a little while for Logan to get him the list, searching through a list of files. Whilst Lewis waited, Franco continued to chat at him. He barely listened, instead watching their camera feed of the outside of the bank, just waiting for something bad to happen. It didn’t.

The list he was handed was handwritten in a neatly printed scrawl, with each number labelled with a little arrow. He followed down the list with a tattooed finger, slowly reading and considering each option. There was one he settled on immediately. The phone in the main foyer. It was where they had seen the hostages being kept earlier, so if they were particularly lucky, one of them might pick up. Regardless, it was a good place to start.

This time, he barely had to wait for a response. And it didn’t take long to work out who he was speaking to. 

“ Lewis! How’s it going mate? ” The thick Australian accent came through, cheery sounding as always. The happiness in his voice didn’t put Lewis at any ease. “ To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Daniel.” 

“ Mate, how did you know it was me?”

“Daniel. Where’s Sebastian?” 

The Australian sighed. “ He’s a little- “ Daniel hesitated, holding the words in his mouth, “- Occupied. What do you need?”

“I need to speak with him, stop fucking with me man. Where is he?” Patience was wearing thin, and he had dealt with Ricciardo in the past, and knew getting sensible information from him was often like pulling teeth. 

“ Alright .” He laughed again. “ No need to sound so stressed. He’ll call you back. Later.” 

“No. Now.” Across the table Franco gave him a big thumbs up, looking positively thrilled at the response. Lewis only wished he could feel the same way. 

“ Give us like an hour-“ 

“This isn’t a negotiation, I have-“ 

“ Alright, alright. Jeez. ” There was another pause, and an incomprehensible chatter on the other side of the line. “ Sebastian isn’t here at the moment. How can I be of service in the meantime?” 

It was becoming clearer and clearer that speaking to Sebastian wasn’t going to be an option. The worry was like a see-saw, whereas before his concern surrounded the well-being of the hostages, he was becoming increasingly anxious around the wellbeing of the heist-leader himself. 

“You know why I’m calling. We all heard the gunshots.” 

“ Right. Yeah. Well maybe you do need to speak to Sebastian about that one, I’m not sure he’d be too happy with me tattling on about-“ 

It was a good job they were speaking over the phone, because Lewis had the urge to hit him. The conversation was becoming increasingly frustrating, and he gave up on getting everything he wanted, instead settling for just what he needed. “Show me the hostages are okay. Then I want to speak to Sebastian within the hour.” 

“ On it. Two secs.” 

He didn’t give any direction as to how he wanted proof, but Daniel proved that he did have an ounce of sense, and came up with a solution nonetheless. In what was an unusual set up, the phone was passed between the hostages. 

Firstly Valterri, who sounded pleasantly calm and although did not mention anything that had happened, he did not give the impression that he was under duress. Then Zhou, with a similarly pleasant conversation, although brief, followed by Lance and Checo, who somehow kept their speech even briefer. Oscar spoke for a little longer, in one word answers, and gave very little away. It was not productive with finding out answers, but at least it gave him time. If the hostages were safe, he could at least give himself some time to think. 

Then he spoke to Lando. And the feeling changed.

“ No, I’m okay.” His voice sounded raspy, more than could be his natural tone. Of course, Lewis had never spoken to him before, but something felt off, especially considering what had happened with Estaban at the shoot-out. “ I’m okay.”

“Are you sure? You sound a bit-“ 

“ I’ll be fine, I think.” If Lewis wasn’t mistaken, the younger man was on the verge of tears. “ I will be.”

“Are you hurt?” Lewis tried again, with a slightly different question this time. The situation felt off again, and although he was no closer to knowing what had happened, he got a feeling that Lando knew something more. 

“ No.” It sounded like a lie. “ I said I was fine.” 

“This is a secure line. If you’re being threatened we can-“ 

“ Nobody is threatening me. I’m okay. Did you have something else to ask or-?”

Lewis let out a deep breath. “No. Take care, okay Lando. We’ll get you out soon.” 

“ Sure.” 

If one thing was for certain, it was that Lando wasn’t convinced that rescue was coming any time soon. 

It was an impossible situation, and for one rare moment Lewis hated his job. Franco and Logan were staring at him, eyes wide and expectant, waiting for instruction. Waiting for him to know what to say, know what to do. 

“Hold off the swat team.” He sighed, directing his speech to Logan but not looking him directly in the eye. “We’ll wait for Seb.” 

Franco’s ears perked up again. “And if he doesn’t call?” 

“He’ll call.” 

“Do we need to-“ 

“No.” Lewis repeated, because this he was certain of. “He’ll call.”

Waiting was painful. Lewis paced around the tent, circling the central table with the phone perched in the middle, taunting him. His own cell phone buzzed in his pocket more than once, but he didn’t pick it up. Not when he was being watched so eagerly by his staff, with them waiting for him to put a foot wrong. Waiting for him to have made the wrong decision. 

Eventually he had to send Franco away to get lunch for them all, the young officer talking non-stop in a mix of anxiety and excitement. He was left in the silence with Logan, who didn’t say a single word, tapping away silently on his computer. 

Hours passed, and Lewis struggled to keep himself occupied, with very little he could do with the situation but wait. It was mid afternoon before anything happened, Lewis having taken himself out the tent to get some fresh air, staring out at the grey coloured sky. It had gotten colder, and being in the open air was not pleasant, but was well needed.

To his surprise, the next distraction did not come from within the bank, but from one of his own men. An unmarked police car, pulling up far too close to the temporary headquarters, with the occupant doing a characteristically bad job at parking. It could only belong to Alex, which was confirmed when the young Thai man jumped out the car, not locking it behind him, and barreled over to where Lewis was standing. 

He grabbed Lewis by his shoulders, and pulled him uncomfortably close, their height difference never having felt so apparent before. “We need to get into the bank. Now.” 

“What-”

“Now. We need to get in there.”

Lewis tried to lean back and escape, but struggled with the tightness of the grip, Alex’s fingers caught around the top of his bullet-proof vest. “Alex, we can’t just-”

“Lewis, Fernando- he-” His eyes were brimmed with tears, words barely making sense.

They needed to get out of the public eye, at least, as Lewis got the sense that a bombshell was about to be dropped. Delicately, he twisted the two of them round, and directed Alex inside the tent, pulling them into a far corner. They were far enough to be out of earshot from the other officers, safe to speak in whispers. 

“What do you know?” He asked, making direct eye contact and tried to read as much as he could. 

“Lewis.” Alex’s face was pale. “Fernando is dead.”

His stomach dropped, and he was barely aware of his jaw dropping down, no words able to come out of his mouth. The Spaniard, despite terrorising Lewis for most of his career, had been a constant in his life. He couldn’t be dead, just like that. Nobody was supposed to be dying, not on his watch. 

“Lewis. Hey. Lewis.” Alex tapped his cheek gently.

“What-” He tried to start a question, fortunately the other officer worked out what he wanted to know. 

“He got shot. This morning.” With a cough, he cleared his throat. “George shot him.”

“Shit.” Sinking to the floor, Lewis squatted, lowering his head into his hands. 

Alex leant down on the floor beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder again. “We need to go in. He’s not safe.”

“Do they know he’s-”

“They know he did it. His cover isn’t blown, but you know it’s only a matter of time, Lewis. After this.”

Lewis sighed. Although Alex did have a point, it wasn’t a decision he could rush into, and he had to be aware of the intense level of bias that Alex brought to the conversation. He couldn’t let himself be blinded by it, there was the safety of more than one person to consider. 

“We’ll keep him safe, I promise. I’ll speak with Sebastian this afternoon.”

Alex’s fingers tightened on his shoulder. “Lewis. No.”

Slowly, he stood up, not looking at Alex. “As soon as we can safely get the hostages out-”

“Alonso is already dead. What happened to you, why are you so cautious these days? What else are you going to let happen?”

Are you going to let happen. Like it was his fault, somehow. Like he should have stopped this. Maybe he could have. 

“Don’t-”

“Did this boyfriend of yours get to your head?” Spat Alex, still sat on the floor as Lewis tried to walk away. “Make you soft? Can you not see what I’m going through?”

Lewis swallowed down the desire to argue back. “I think you should go take a walk, Alex. And you can meet this boyfriend of mine tonight, we’re doing some team bonding, before this all falls apart.”

Sensibly, Alex said nothing further. 

“Did you make Alex cry?” Asked Franco as soon as he turned round the corner to the main office. “It looks like he was crying.”

“Hey man- don’t-” Logan tried to interject, but was stopped again by more chatter. 

“What did he find out? What happened?” Jumping up, Franco perched himself on the edge of the table.

“You need to be more sensitive.”

“I am being more sensitive.” He whined. “I just want to know what is happening.”

Maybe Lewis was losing his way. His staff certainly weren’t treating him with much respect. “Both of you calm down. Get off the table, please, Franco.”

“Oh.” Franco looked sheepishly as he slid down, standing back on the floor with legs tightly together and shoulders raised. 

Lewis sighed, realising the effect he had had on the room. “It’s okay, you’re not in trouble. We’ll have a proper debrief-”

Typically, he was interrupted by the jarring ring of the phone. His breath caught in his chest, as the sudden realisation of what he was going to have to talk to Sebastian about. Hands hovering above the handset, he exhaled deeply, and answered. 

“Sebastian.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a long sigh. “ Lewis.”

“How are things?”

“ We’ve been better.” He sounded a little choked, something he had never witnessed in the ringleader before. “ I’m sure you have heard the gunshots.”

“What happened, Seb?” Of course, he already knew, but couldn’t risk giving anything away. 

“ Alonso. Fernando- he has-” He paused again. “ There was an altercation between my men. The hostages are all safe, I assure you. But Fernando has been killed.”

Lewis feigned shock, as best as he was able. “Sebastian. I’m so sorry.” The apology was sincere. He was truly apologetic for the situation. 

“ Thank you. You will forgive me if I do not wish to speak much around it now. No games. Not right now.”

“Of course.” 

He could barely imagine how Sebastian felt. Him and Fernando had been close for many years, and worked together on so many occasions. There were very few people in Lewis’s life that he had allowed himself to get that close to, and he had never lost anybody. 

“ Maybe we can be left in peace, for a few hours. Give us some time to grieve, please.”

“Seb. Consider your options here. You have no way out of the bank, I have officers on every exit. You’ve already lost one man. Surrender the hostages now, and I can get you out safe. All of you.”

“ What?” The mood changed suddenly, poison in Sebastian’s voice.

“What other choice do you have? Think logically, whatever you’ve planned, it isn’t working. I can keep you all safe.”

“ After all this, and you want me to just give up?”

“No-”

“ I’ll say it once, only because it is what Fernando would have said.” He growled. “ Kindly, fuck off.”

The line cut off with a long beep. Lewis stared down at his hand where the phone was held, unmoving. The room hung in silence, and Lewis knew all the eyes were on him. The eyes were always on him. 

“I think that went okay.” Came the quiet Argentinian voice from beside him. 

Lewis threw the phone set off the table in one sweeping move, right in Franco’s direction. 

Chapter Text

The pills that Max and Charles had given him had made his head feel very foggy. Everything was confusing, and Carlos was struggling to keep up with everything that was happening. A lot had happened in the past couple of hours. 

From what he could gather from the others, Fernando had knocked him unconscious in the corridor, then taken and tortured Lando. And Fernando was now dead, courtesy of George. He couldn’t say he had much sympathy for the older Spaniard. Not after the pain he had inflicted on them. Inflicted on Lando. 

They still hadn’t taken him to Lando. Apparently there were reasons for it, reasons why he had been confined to the vault with Max, Charles and George, and that Lando was somewhere else and safe. He tried to go himself, but whatever Fernando had done to his head, along with the concoction of medication he had been given, made it nearly impossible to stand on his own. And according to Max, he was ‘too confused’ and ‘making no sense’, which would only scare the young brit.

Maybe Max had a point. The world was spinning a bit as they exited the vault, leaving behind a sleeping George, and he had to lean heavily on Charles. It took them a long time to reach the rest of the team, which was entirely his fault. His legs wouldn’t keep up with his brain, and every step took thought. 

There was no office anymore. That’s what Sebastian stated when they finally arrived and he was lowered down onto a seat by Charles. They had relocated to the kitchen, which at least had the advantage of the welcome hot drink that was placed infront of him. 

He took a moment to take in each individual of the crew. Sebastian sat at the head of the table, somehow more exhausted looking than he had been in the morning, eyes ringed in red. Yuki was next to him, biting his lip anxiously and pressing himself closely to Pierre. The Frenchman was hiding his hands beneath the table, but it didn’t take much to notice the bandages around his knuckles, red blood seaping through. Daniel’s neck was starting to blossom with bruises, tender-looking and swollen, his fingers brushing over it absentmidely as he waited. And Fernando wasn’t there. 

“Sit down please, Max. Nobody else is coming in.” Directed Sebastian towards the Dutchman who was pacing by the door. Max did as he was told, pulling up the final chair and sitting next to Charles. “I apologise, we have no food. But there is tea.”

Charles muttered a quiet thank you, but the room was otherwise silent. Nobody made eye contact with each other. Nobody dared to say a word. 

“I am sorry, boys.” Sebastian continued to speak, staring down at his lap. “I have let you down.” 

There was no denial of this. Carlos certainly felt let down. Not by Sebastian, necessarily, but let down all the same. This hadn’t been what he signed up to.

“I don’t know why Fernando did what he did. And I am sorry that I did not see that things were heading in the wrong direction.” He sighed, wiping his face with both hands, then looking upwards. “Things have been difficult this time around, and you have all done so well. This is a reminder for us all, we need to keep our heads in the game.”

Carlos took a sip of his tea as he listened. It was just the right temperature, and comforting after sitting on the cold vault floor for so long. 

“Anyway.” Sebastian continued. “Would anybody like to say anything?”

There was silence, then Daniel cleared his throat. He raised his mug of tea up towards the centre of the table, arm out straight. “He might have been an old bastard, especially towards the end, but he was also a good friend. To Fernando.”

Slowly, the group raised their individual cups, and a muttering of ‘to Fernando’ circled round the room. Carlos lifted his hesitantly, more for show than anything else. 

“What do we do now?” Asked Pierre once things had settled. “Do the police know what has happened?”

A strange look plastered on Sebastian’s face. “I’m not sure. I will speak to Hamilton shortly. Until then, we keep going. How is the tunnel coming along?”

“We’re nearly there. Another few hours. It’ll want testing before we use it for the gold. And we still don’t know what the plan is once we get down the tunnel.” Max explained.

Seb looked at him directly, the first eye contact he had made with anybody since they had entered the room. “There is a plan. I do not know who I can trust with it at this moment.”

“You see why I’m a bit apprehensive though. How am I meant to control what I’m digging to, if I can’t even know what’s on the other end.”

“There are only two ways out of here, Verstappen. Through that tunnel, or with the police. You see why I want to keep the other side a secret.” 

“There are three ways out of here.” Added Pierre. “If you include the way that Fernando went.”

The room fell to silence again. Sebastian looked back down at his lap. 

“Maybe we should get back to work, yes?” Asked Charles, his chirpy voice breaking through the silence. “The quicker we can get out of here the better.”

“Yes, of course. Just one more thing.” Sebastian turned his head, and was looking directly at Carlos. “How is your head, Carlos?”

“It is fine.” He spoke up for the first time. “A little sore. But it will be okay.”

“Good, I am glad.” 

“Okay.” Placing his hands on the table, Carlos made the move to stand up. “Thank you?”

Sebastian looked away, then stared right back at him. “No, stay sitting down. We don’t want you to get hurt, do we? I think it would make Lando very upset.”

“What-”

This was going to be trouble. Even in his slightly confused state, he could tell he was about to be in danger. He knew Sebastian was going to find out eventually, and must have had suspicions, but he had hoped they would be out the bank before it was brought up.

“Do you even understand the moral consequences of what you have done? You do not sleep with hostages, no matter the circumstances. They are under our care, and we are in a position of power over them. And even if it was not completely wrong, did you even think what would have happened if the police found out what you did?”

Carlos was aware that the whole room was looking at him. But he couldn’t take his eyes off Sebastian. 

“You could have ruined this all, just because you wanted to get your dick wet.”

He bit his lip. “Sorry. I didn’t think- it wasn’t planned, and we both-”

“I don’t care who started it. It stops now.” 

Carlos tried to protest. “But he was going to leave the bank with us.”

Somehow, Sebastian looked even more furious. “Absolutely not. You will not jeopardise this for the rest of us.”

“No, you don’t understand. They’ll arrest him for working with us. For shooting that police officer.”

His eyebrows lifted up in surprise. “Lando shot an officer?”

“When those hostages escaped.” Carlos began to explain. 

Sebastian sighed. “Lando has dug his own grave then. He can get a good lawyer, he will survive.”

“I can’t leave him.”

“Then you are free to join him Carlos. If you think he is not doing this just to use you, then you are more naive than I took you for.” 

The shock of it all must have gotten to Seb, because Carlos could see no world in which Landoo was faking things. The man wore his emotions on his sleeve, and despite only knowing each other a few days, Carlos felt closer to him than he had done to anyone else before. “You’re wrong.”

“Think back. Did he ever take you away from the group at convenient times?” 

Oh. He looked over at Daniel, eyes locking onto the bruising around his neck. Surely that wasn’t his fault. Surely it was just a coincidence. “Oh God.”

“What?” Asked Daniel, noticing that the eyes were now on him. “Is that why it was just me guarding the hostages?”

“No-” Shakily, Carlos stood up, balancing himself with the table. He felt even more lightheaded than he had previously. “No- it is not-”

His legs were running away from him, taking out of the room. Nobody sat around the table even tried to stop him, not even when he nearly tumbled over. Using the wall, he balanced his way out into the corner, stumbling over his feet. He had to get to Lando, had to prove to himself that the suspicions weren’t true. 

Twice he almost fell face first on the floor, only just catching himself. It must have looked like quite the sight, edging along the wall, completely unable to support himself properly. Fortunately nobody even tried to stop him, nobody called to him through the earpiece. Against all odds, he got to the main hall, and practically fell through the big double doors. 

“Lando-“ He called out as he fell forwards onto his hands and knees. 

Nobody helped him back up. It was a little embarrassing. He lifted his head to see two shoes in front of him, accompanied by a neat pair of the bank uniform trousers. “What do you want, Carlos?”

“Hello Oscar.” He tried to look up at his face, but his vision was too blurry to make much out. “I’m here for Lando.” 

“Why?” 

“Is he okay? Let me see him, please.” Carlos didn’t like begging, but sometimes it was needed. 

“I don’t see why I should. He’s asleep, anyway.” The Australian always got to the point. Carlos would have liked a little more empathy at this point, although he understood that Oscar was just doing his best to protect the Brit. 

“I’ll be very quick.” 

Oscar hummed. “Fine. But I’m keeping an eye on things.” He held a hand down to Carlos. “He’s over here.” 

They had set up blankets on the floor, many more than there had been last time he was on guard. Oscar let him lean on him to walk across the hall, and they made their way through the blankets, amongst the rest of the hostages who watched him cautiously. They got to the largest pile of blankets and he could just about make out a small figure lying amongst them. 

“I’m watching from over here, alright.” Oscar said, letting go of Carlos and allowing him to crawl along the blanketed marble. 

He shuffled along, eyes landing on Lando and some anxiety settling as he watched his chest rise up and down, slowly and peacefully. It was slightly disconcerting to see the bandage around his head, padding over his ear, with dried blood on the side of his face and down his neck. His hair was wet, which also filled him with dread. There wasn’t a shower in the bank, how could his hair be wet? What exactly had Fernando done to him? 

His clothes were damp as well, Carlos feeling the cold of it against his hand as he gently rubbed Lando’s shoulder, shaking him awake. 

Lando grumbled, then rolled over onto his side, eyes flickering open. It took a second for the recognition to hit, but when it did the result was magical. Clumsily he sat himself up, and practically threw himself into Carlos’s arms.

Sighing, Carlos leant it forehead down into Lando’s hair. It was an unmistakable smell, and it hit him like a truck, intoxicating and sickening at the same time. Gasoline. 

“Lando.” He pulled back, holding him at arm's length. “What happened?” 

“They wouldn’t let me see you.” He whined. “They said you were hurt.” 

“I am okay now. I am okay. What did Fernando do to you?” Carlos ran his hand through Lando’s hair, drawing around the bandage. 

Lando looked directly at him, eyes brimmed with tears. “He thought I was working for the Police. And he tied me to a chair in the office, and cut my ear. He almost set me on fire, Carlos.” 

Carlos pulled him into a closer hug, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso and squeezing him to his chest. “I can not lose you.” 

“Your head.” Lando placed his hands under Carlos’s jaw and examined him closely. “You were bleeding.”

“Max thinks I have a concussion. He is no doctor, of course, but he thinks I will be okay.” 

Giggling, Lando pulled at the bandages on Carlos’s head. “Hey, and we have matching silly hats now.” 

Smiling in response, he pulled Lando’s hands down and held them tightly. “Lando, I have to ask you something.”

“Yeah?” 

“Remember when we were in the storeroom. That first time?” He asked, hoping that he would, and that he would say that there was no ulterior motive.

“I do, what about it?” 

“Did you take me there for a reason? So your friends could try and escape?” 

Gently, Lando moved Carlos’s hair out his face, with such sincerity that it couldn’t be a lie. “Why would you ask that?”

Carlos cleared his throat, and tried to read anything from Lando’s face. “I just need to know, Landito.”

Looking down, Lando’s face visibly paled. “Maybe. Initially-”

“No.” Carlos let go of Lando, pushing him backwards. “No.”

“Carlos, listen-”

“You did all this, just to hurt my friends?” 

Lando attempted to reach out and grab him again, but he brushed him off. “No, Carlos please. Maybe that time they asked me to keep you distracted but-”

“Distracted?” It led him to the question, how much of this was true? Had Lando been the one using him this whole time? 

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t have a thing for you to begin with- Carlos, look at me-”

“What else are you keeping from me?”

“Nothing,” Lando gently placed his hand on Carlos’s cheek, and this time he let him do it. “I would do anything for you.” 

“I do not know what to think.” He admitted, looking deeply into Lando’s eyes.

The younger man pulled them closer together again. “We nearly died. We still could. I don’t really understand what's happened or what’s going to happen but I know I want to stay with you. Out of here, wherever we go.”

Carlos took a moment to deliberate. It was hard to say no, to feel anything but desire, when Lando was looking at him in the way he did. “No more secrets?”

It was Lando’s turn to hesitate, and the cogs could be seen turning in his head, before he nodded. “No more secrets.”

Their lips met, and Carlos felt everything that was wrong dissipate. He felt at home, finally comfortable, like his brain had finally stopped spinning. He shut his eyes, and held Lando as close as he could, knowing that there was only one way they were going to do things. Together. 

Chapter Text

Charles held hands with Max all the way back to the vault. The mood was sombre, and seeing Sebastian in the state that he was in only made him feel worse. He had stayed in the kitchen, alone, after sending everyone else out, with an excuse of needing to phone the police. 

Charles knew him too well to believe that was the truth. People had died before, and people Seb was close to had died, but nobody like Fernando. Seb was barely holding things together, and it was plain to see. 

“We need to hurry up with the tunnel.” Max was chatting as they walked. Charles finally listened to what he was saying. “I’m getting a bad feeling about things. I think this is just the start. I don’t want either of us to get caught up in things.”

“Yeah.” He agreed half heartedly. 

“It shouldn’t take me too long, maybe an hour and we can start geting the forged gold out. It’s the simple bits now, you’ll just have to climb down into the tunnel to make sure we’ve got the right drop point. Which we have. I wouldn’t get it wrong.”

“Right.”

“And then we all leave, nobody else needs to get hurt. No more of this stupid heist.” The dutch man was starting to rant, not an uncommon occurrence, and Charles was well used to hearing it. “Like what did he think was going to happen? Locking us all in here for days.”

Charles squeezed his hand. “Hey. We will be out of here soon. And think of the money that we’ll have.”

Humming, Max wordlessly responded. 

“I think we should buy an island. One for ourselves.” 

Max grinned. “I like that idea.”

Things felt a little better once they were back in the vault. They had made it their space. George was still there, of course, it wasn’t like there was anywhere he could have gotten to, but he looked a little brighter than when they had left him. Still deathly pale, but awake at least, curled on his side staring at the laptop screen. He didn’t acknowledge them entering the vault. 

Max took a seat on one of his workbenches, just off the ground enough that his feet would swing. He picked up a remote, clicking some buttons that Charles did not understand, which started up the machinery. Saying they worked in silence would have been a lie. Max talked almost constantly, explaining things to Charles, giving him tasks to do. Arguing with George whenever he spoke up. 

It was hard labor, for Charles at least, who was transporting the gold- melted down into new, untraceable objects- candlestick holders, plates, statues- things that could be sold for the pure metal value alone, without anything that could lead authorities back to their group. He placed them neatly in wooden crates, wrapped in scraps of old newspapers. Then, the hardest part, was dragging them across the vault floor, lining them up as neatly as he could by the hole Max continued to work in. 

“You should drop one of those candelabras on his head.” George scoffed after watching him carry a particularly heavy box. 

“I heard that!” Came the distant call, echoing upwards from deep in the ground. “Why don’t you come down here and-”

The rest of the sentence trailed off and couldn’t quite be heard. Probably for the best. “You never relent, do you?”

Smirking, George shrugged in the vague direction of where Max was. “Somebody’s got to keep him in his place. Before he gets too cocky.”

“Yes. He definitely can be cocky.” 

George groaned. “You’re disgusting. I don’t know why we’re friends.” Fortunately the joke was easy to read, and Charles could tell that there was no bad blood between them. Maybe between George and Max, he was less sure on that one. 

He looked George up and down slowly, taking in the image of the man sat on the floor of the vault. He was so pale it was almost creepy, like he was a ghost. Moving ever so delicately as he typed in the laptop, barely breathing deep enough to get any air in. “You are in pain.” Accused Charles. “You can have another one of those tablets.” 

Slowly, George shook his head. “No, Thank you. I don’t need my head to be foggy. Not again.” 

“Maybe you would feel better-“ 

“No, Charlie. Some more water would be nice, however. Or some tea.” He smiled again, softer than the smirk he had given before.

Collecting himself, Charles brushed the dust off the top of his dress trousers, and nodded down at the Brit. “Of course.” 

Finally feeling more useful, Charles made his way back to the kitchen, with the additional task of finding Max one of those horrible energy drinks that he liked so much. Hopefully the two of them wouldn’t kill each other in the time he was gone, although it did seem like asking any one of the group to act like an adult was an unrealistic expectation. 

Initially it seemed like the kitchen was empty. It was certainly quiet, almost unaturally so. The main light was flickering, like it had broken since the last time he had been in, or just because he hadn’t noticed such an inconsequential detail with everything else going on. It cast shadows in a strange way throughout the silent room, tricking his vision.

Spotting Sebastian, sitting silently in the far corner, almost made him jump out of his skin. He had fortunately already put the kettle down, because otherwise he would have made such a noise that everyone else would have come running in an instant. Seb gave a small, half hearted smile in Charles’s direction once he realised the younger man was looking, but didn’t say a word. Maybe it was the way the shadows were falling, or maybe it was the coldness of the room, but Charles had never seen Sebastian looking so tired before. He almost looked unwell, darkness beneath red-ringed eyes, curls falling in random directions. He was picking slowly at the edge of his thumbnail, and even in the darkness Charles could see that he had made himself bleed. 

“Seb?” He asked once he had pulled his thoughts together. “Is everything okay?”

Opening his mouth, it looked as if he was trying to say something, but no words came out. 

On tiptoes, like approaching a wild animal, Charles edged further towards him. Gently, he held his hand out from Seb to take, which he did hesitantly, holding it for a moment before pulling Charles downwards and into a tight hug. Charles felt the arms wrap around him, squeezing like they would never let go, but he was able to relax into the embrace, breathing in and out with Sebastian. 

“Seb.” He tried again, once the grip had loosened just enough to allow him to speak. “I’m sorry.”

Sebastian sighed, pulling away slightly to look Charles in the eye. His voice sounded coarse as he spoke. “Me too.” 

“I love you.” Speaking sincerely, he rested his head down on Sebastian’s shoulder, like he had done frequently when he had been much younger. 

“I love you too, Liebchen.” He placed a kiss gently into Charle’s hair. “Things will be okay.”

“I know.”

“Come. Are you making tea? I will help you.” Sebastian pushed himself up off the chair where he had made himself a home, and stepped his way slowly to the counter. 

“Just for George, yes. And I was going to find one of those cans at the back of the cupboard for Max.”

“Excellent. Milk and no sugar for Georgie. I’ll let you find the energy drink. I won’t comment on the caffeine consumption at this time in the afternoon.” The tea order wasn’t a question, because Seb knew the answer. He prided himself on knowing all the tiny details. 

At the far corner of the bottom cupboard, Charles eventually managed to find another can for Max, only just avoiding hitting his head on the counter as he emerged. The kettle had finished boiling by the time he did, and Seb was gently stirring the tea bag around the mug with a spoon, staring down at the water. He left it there for a little too long, like he was barely concentrating on what he was doing. 

“I called Lewis.” He stated in a matter-of-fact way as he walked to the bin with the teabag. “Told him what happened.”

“Right.”

“I think he already knew.”

Charles swallowed a gasp. “What do you mean?”

“I told you before, I thought someone could be speaking to the police, from inside the bank. Fernando was convinced, and he thought it was Lando. I should have stopped that before things went too far. But he was right about one thing. Somebody is spilling our secrets. And I have my suspicions.”

Charles didn’t have to ask to know who was top of the list. “It’s not Max.”

“Charles, you understand-”

“I’ve been with him this whole time, it isn’t him.” He argued before Seb could get a word in. It was a hard thing to prove, because Max was the newest member of the team, and one of the few members of the crew who had remained well enough to communicate with the officers, but Charles knew he couldn’t be a mole. He wouldn’t have been able to keep quiet about it, for starters, but more than anything Charles knew he would have seen something, felt something that was off. 

“Charles. Quiet please.”

He shut his mouth, and looked down at his shoes. 

“I’m not saying that it is. But if I have to, I will leave this bank with you, and only you.”

“No-” He whispered, so quietly that he wasn’t sure it could be heard.

“Here, take this.” Sebastian handed over the cup of tea. “Before it gets cold. I will get us home, Charles. Soon, we will go home.”

Charles didn’t look back as he left, an uneasy feeling in his stomach, like he didn’t quite agree with everything that was being said. He wanted to leave with everyone. His friends. Max. Leaving without Fernando was going to be hard enough, but the guilt of having to leave the whole crew behind would break him. 

The tea was shaking in his hands and it was hard not to spill any of it. He wasn’t sure when his chest started hurting, but it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore, as his heart only thumped faster the closer he got to the vault. He only realised he was tripping over when Max caught him, holding him in his arms gently and stopping too much tea from going on the floor.

“Shit. What happened to you?”

“Nothing.” Charles gently wiggled his way out of the grip, allowing Max to lead him back into the vault. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ignoring him, Charles looked around to find George, now lying eyes closed and breathing gently underneath a blanket. 

Max laughed quietly. “He fell asleep just after you left. Maybe just leave the tea next to him.”

“Did you tuck him in?”

“No- well, actually, yes, but-” Max argued, but Charles found it hard to even laugh at him for it. “Did you find any of the redbull cans?”

Patting his pocket, Charles searched for the can he had found, but quickly realised he must have left it behind. “Shit, it’s still in the kitchen.”

Max shrugged. “It’s fine. I’ll just have the tea, it’s not like he’s going to drink it.” He held out his hands, and gently took the mug from Charles, holding it close to his chest in his grip. 

“Sorry. I got distracted. Sebastian was in the kitchen.”

“Yeah?” Sipping from the drink, Max waited for more information.

“He’s not well, I don’t think.” He spoke quietly, thinking back to how dishevelled Seb had looked.

Nodding, the dutch man hummed in agreement. “He looked tired earlier.”

“Something feels wrong.” Charles whispered, pulling himself closer to Max, like he was worried someone else would hear the confession. “I think something bad is about to happen.”

“What’s going to happen?” Max asked sincerely, brushing through Charles’s hair gently. “With Seb?”

“I don’t know.” He whispered again, aware of the tears that were welling up in his eyes. “I just have a really bad feeling.”

Sighing, Max placed the teacup down on the workbench, and kissed Charles gently. He used the back of his sleeve to wipe the tears away from his cheeks. “It’s okay. A lot has happened today, it’s only normal to be stressed.”

“No- It’s not that, I can’t explain-”

Max kissed him again, slower this time. “Okay. I trust you. But whatever happens, we’ll be ready for it. I’ll keep you safe.”

Allowing himself to melt forwards into Max, Charles couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t going to follow Seb’s plan. Because if Max wasn’t leaving the bank, he wasn’t either. Even that realisation didn’t stop the horrible feeling from encroaching, only getting worse as he let himself be held, to be rocked back and forwards like he was a child. A storm was brewing. And he knew that they were about to be caught in the middle of it. 

Chapter Text

Somehow, Logan had found himself a clean shirt. It was somewhat of a miracle, because he only had fifteen minutes to get ready between getting home from work and the time that Alex had agreed to pick him up. Although, knowing Alex and his lack of ability to be on time, he knew he had around an extra ten minutes to get on top of things. 

The shirt was a light blue, one his parents had bought him at graduation, and was just about neat enough that it didn’t need ironing. He pulled it on, ran some gel through his hair, and quickly brushed his teeth, deciding that that was all that he really needed to do. Then he sat down, by the window of his flat, and waited. 

It felt wrong, going out for a meal, given everything that was happening, but Lewis had insisted, and Lewis was the boss. Alex had kicked up the most fuss, almost shouting in argument against it, but had eventually given in. Logan was happy for the free meal at least. And some team bonding couldn’t be a bad thing. 

Darkness came quicker than he was expecting, the street lights coming on slowly, one by one. They had planted trees outside of his apartment, which obscured the road somewhat, but the view was good enough that he could keep checking. He held a glass of water in his hand, sipping at it occasionally as he sat by the window, watching anxiously because he knew Alex wouldn’t text him. He didn’t want to be late. 

It wasn’t particularly warm. It hadn’t been for a few days, and before light had left it looked like dark clouds were beginning to coalesce above the city. Still, despite the cold, Logan was sweating through his shirt. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why he felt so stressed about the whole thing, and the feeling only got worse when he spotted the black Mercedes pull up in the street below his flat. 

It was good for him to get out of the house. It was good for him to see friends outside of work. This was good for him.

The knocking on his door nearly made him jump out of his skin. It came too suddenly, and kept going. It wasn’t Alex.

He crept towards the peep hole, leaning silently against the door just to check, just because he felt he had to be sure. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so mistrusting. It was, of course, Franco. The new kid on the team. The new him, in a way. 

“Hey Logan!” He grinned as the door was opened. The Argentinian was similarly dressed to Logan, a deep blue shirt left a little too open, paired with a dark black pair of trousers. “Alex is waiting in the car. He said he would give me a lift too, I hope you do not mind.”

“No. That’s fine.” Extending an arm, he welcomed Franco through the entrance. “How did you get into the building?” 

“Door was open downstairs.” Franco spoke nonchalantly, leaning against the counter in the hallway. He did not seem bothered at all about the fact the door had been left unlocked. 

“Right. Cool.” Even though it absolutely wasn’t. 

“Come on, Alex and Esteban are waiting. We are already late.”

“Esteban?” 

“Yeah! He’s, like, fine. I mean, his arm looks pretty fucked up and he told me all about how he got shot, but he looks great all things considered. We picked him up at the hospital. That’s why we are so late.” Franco rambled on. It gave Logan a chance to grab his belongings, stuff his wallet into his pocket, and pull his jacket on. 

“Sure.” He couldn’t really think of much else to add. 

“Your place is really nice by the way.” Franco touched one of the framed pictures the landlord had put up. “The decoration is really cool.” 

He didn’t have the heart to tell him it was all generic. “Thanks. Are you ready to go?”

Franco grinned. “Always.”

Logan hadn’t been in Alex’s car in a while. It was objectively a nice car. Expensive. Better than Alex would be able to afford on his own. Last time he had been in it, however, it had been in much better condition. He sat in the back, next to Franco, on the leather seats amongst an unreasonable pile of fast food containers. A volume such that Logan had to wonder if Alex had eaten a proper meal in weeks. 

He didn’t bring it up. Not when they were all in the car together. Not when Alex was obviously struggling with something. 

Esteban sat up front. The argument was that he needed more room because of his arm. This was ridiculous, but nobody was going to stop him. Besides, he did have the longest legs. With a suit jacket on his other shoulder, hanging over a heavily bandaged shoulder, he had managed to pull an outfit together regardless. He was more quiet than normal, less excitable than Logan was used to, although he still talked. The same couldn’t be said for Alex, who was almost completely silent. He only hummed in response to any questions, eyes locked forwards on the road. 

Logan was fairly quiet himself, but he always was. It was difficult to get a word in edgeways with Franco next to him, the younger man asking questions about Lewis, about Nico, about the heist, about everything. This continued the entire journey as they weaved through the lit streets, before finally stopping in the car park of a restaurant that Logan had never heard of. He looked down at his sleeve, playing with the button on the cuff, whilst he waited for the car to be parked and for people to start getting out. 

Golden fairy lights lead the way up the stairwell to the restaurant, and the four of them made their way up the carpet towards the entrance. Logan walked alongside Alex, who was passing his car keys between his hands anxiously, watching his feet as they walked.

“Are you alright man?” Asked Logan quietly, so that the others wouldn’t hear. “You seem very quiet.”

“Yeah, it’s nothing. Just about the conversation I had with Lewis earlier. It’s okay.” It wasn’t a convincing answer. Alex didn’t make eye contact once. The more Logan looked at him the more concerned he got. His shirt wasn’t ironed, his shoes weren’t clean. Something was happening that was more than he was letting on. 

“You know you can speak to me about anything, right? I won’t tell anyone.” He patted the Thai man on the back gently and then added quietly, “I don’t have anybody to tell.” 

“Thanks mate. I appreciate it.”

Logan had to wonder if he had heard a single word of what had been said.

The restaurant was busy, unsurprisingly given that it was 8pm and Lewis was only ever going to choose somewhere popular. The bustling noise and smell of food was intense, almost overwhelming as he walked in. They were directed by the waitress to a large table in the far corner.  

Sat next to each other, hands clasped together with each other on the top of the table, were Lewis and Nico. Nico was talking about something, gesturing wildly, only stopping when their group was pointed out to him. Logan waved awkwardly to the man he had only met once before, and Nico politely returned the wave. 

“I’m so glad you could all make it.” He smiled widely, showing off his set of unnaturally white teeth. His blond hair was nearly styled, and light pastel blue shirt perfectly pressed. “Lewis said it took some convincing.” 

Lewis laughed gently, running a hand through his braids and looking away. It was a side rarely seen on the man.

“I’m Nico.” He stood up from his chair, and shook each of their hands individually. “Come, sit down, I’ve gotten wine for the table. Don’t worry, I’m paying.” 

Pulling the chair out with a squeak as the legs hit the tiled floor, Logan was the first to sit down. Franco sat down on the right of him, and Alex was the last to sit, on Logan’s left. Nico began to pour out glasses of wine for each of them, perfectly manicured hands wrapped tightly around the glass bottle. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” Alex said his most coherent thing for the first time that evening. “I’m driving.” 

“Oh.” Nico looked disappointed. “Well it’s good wine. You should have a small glass.” 

“Really, I shouldn’t-“ 

“We will get you a taxi back if needs be. And besides, Lewis refuses to drink the stuff. He can keep an eye on you.” 

“No, I don’t-“

Nico continued to pour the glass regardless. “Come on, I insist. We are here to relax.” He handed the glass over to Alex, who reluctantly took it. “We’ll have a good night, I think. I’m so glad to meet you all. Lewis has told me so much about you.”

“Nico.” Lewis whispered, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. “Don’t scare them. Please. ”

“Okay, okay. Sorry darling. ” He laughed, taking a sip of his wine and looked at Esteban. The Frenchman was drinking, which surely couldn’t be wise, but who was Logan to tell him no? “So tell me, how is your arm? I heard it was quite the injury?”

The mood lightened as the evening continued. Logan had had a little too much wine before the starters had even been brought out, and could feel his cheeks starting to flush. The food was delicious, although he couldn’t quite place what he was eating- some sort of fried vegetables and pastry with a sauce that tasted sweet and rich- it was better than anything he would have had at home. He was even finding Franco to be bearable, as he recounted the story from the academy where he had almost gotten kicked out for accidentally insulting the superintendent.

“You’re kidding?” Alex laughed out loud, his face even redder than Logan’s had gone. Maybe Nico had been right, the wine had really perked him up a little. “How did you ever get a job?”

“I don’t even know!” Franco exclaimed, looking around. “I never even properly graduated, you know, they just gave me this job straight away.” 

That explained a lot, Franco did act like he was still at school, and his inexperience was apparent with everything he did. At least it made Logan look like he knew what he was doing.

“You never graduated?” Asked Nico, pouring out more glasses of wine. “That is a shame. Your record makes up for it though, of course. Top of the class, I hear?” 

“Yeah, course.” He grinned, red wine on his teeth. 

Lewis looked puzzled momentarily, hand brushing on Nico’s shoulder. “They didn’t tell me that- how do you know?”

Nico pecked a kiss on his cheek, which sent a shiver down Logan’s spine, like he was watching his dad date. “You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff the news company finds on the officers involved, dear. I’ve learnt a lot about all of you. I hear you were top of the class too, Alex?” 

Alex tilted his head bashfully and laughed again. “Almost.” He paused, and his face fell. “I was second place, actually.” 

“Right.” 

“Sorry.” Standing up from his seat quickly, Alex nearly toppled over the candles in the centre of the table. “Sorry, I’ve just got to make a call-“ 

“Work call?” Lewis asked, moving to stand up as well.

“Yeah, it’s fine, I’ll be back in two minutes.” He didn’t push his chair back, and almost tripped over as he scrambled away, disappearing towards the front entrance.

“Do you want me to go with him?” Logan asked Lewis quietly whilst the rest of the table stayed quiet, 

“No. Leave him. He’ll be back soon.” 

“Besides, the mains are on their way.” Nico smiled disconcertingly again, “We wouldn’t want our food to get cold.” 

Logan was fairly sure that the steak he had ordered wasn’t meat, but it tasted good. The fries were good too, filling and satisfying. Alex made his way back to the table about five minutes after the food had arrived, placed his phone down on the table and wordlessly sat down next to Logan and stared down at his plate.

“Is everything alright with the food, Alex?” Nico asked as the conversation paused. “I can ask the waitress to change it?” 

“No, no. It’s fine.” He gave a forced smile and picked up his knife and fork. “It looks perfect, thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. Now where was I?” 

“You were telling us how you two met.” Franco replied, mouth full of food.

“Oh, of course. Well working as a journalist, we deal with the Police a lot, and Lewis has always been so famous.” He started, turning to Lewis as if asking him to continue.

Lewis cleared his throat. “I think we first met many years ago. One of my first ever negotiations. Nico was the first one who ever put me in the paper. I don’t think we talked much back then, but I still remember it. I think I got him in trouble for it, my boss wasn’t happy with what he had published- although I barely noticed. Nico went abroad after that, I didn’t see him for a while.”

“And then more recently, a few months ago, they put you up at that press conference, after that shooting in town.” The German man continued.

“We’d both gotten promoted heavily at this point so he sat right at the front, asked me many difficult questions. Then he caught me outside the conference, to apologise I think. But the questions got more intimate and then-“ 

“Well you can work out the rest for yourselves, I’m sure.” Nico grinned, squeezing a hand on Lewis’s thigh. 

“Very romantic.” Nodded Franco, who had thankfully finished his meal so the accompanying sound of chewing had stopped. 

“And nobody is bothered with the whole journalist-police officer thing?” Esteban asked sensibly, something that Logan had not even thought of that could be an issue.

The Brit winced. “You guys are really the first people to know. So i’d appreciate it if you keep things quiet , for now. Just until we work things out with our bosses.”

“Course, yeah.” Logan nodded.

“Thank you, Logan.” Nico made eye contact with him, the icy bright blue piercing in colour. “It’s good that Lewis has so many colleagues he can trust.”

Something about the way he said it, something about the way Nico acted, the way he dressed, something about it felt wrong. Even Lewis wasn’t acting like himself, it was like he was a different person around Nico, and it was incredibly off putting. Maybe that was why, maybe it was like Nico was his stepfather, coming in and changing everything. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, and they held eye contact for far too long.

Nico blinked and then looked away. “Should we get dessert? I love the ice cream here, despite it being vegan.” 

The dessert was good. Logan had a slice of the chocolate cake, filled with a caramel cream. It was too much to finish, and he was left pushing the remainder of the food around his plate with the fork. 

Alex had barely touched his, ice cream melting into a puddle across his plate. Logan nudged him gently when he was sure nobody was looking. Alex gave him a little nod back, but nothing else.  

“Would you like more wine, Alex?” Asked Nico, pausing his conversation once again. 

“No, thanks Nico. I’m going to go to the loo, before we leave.” 

“Sure.” Nico smiled, pouring himself another glass. 

“I’ll come with you.” Logan placed his fork down, and stood up to follow Alex. He didn’t particularly need the bathroom, but he at least wanted to clear his head, and check that his colleague was managing okay. 

Franco giggled in the background, earning a stern look from both Nico and Lewis. 

“What’s funny about two men going to the bathroom together? Watch your dirty mind, Franco.” It started like he was scolding, but Nico was laughing by the end of his sentence. “Besides, judging by that ring, Alex is a married man. Is that right, Alex?”

Alex’s face dropped, and he spoke whilst stepping backwards slowly. “I’m sorry. I’ve really got to go-“

“Oh, my apologies. Have I hit a sore spot?” 

“Nico-“ Lewis interrupted, but was stopped by Alex.

“It’s fine. I just really need the bathroom.” He was far away from the table by this point, and said little else before practically running away in the direction of the bathroom.

Logan looked across to Lewis for approval. Lewis nodded almost immediately. “Go check he’s alright. We’ll wait here unless you need us.”

Alex was long gone before Logan could even chase him, there was no sight of the Thai man as he weaved his way through the restaurant tables, apologising to each patron he ran into. 

The bathroom was empty, and Logan would have been briefly forgiven for thinking Alex had gone elsewhere until he heard the distinctive sound of retching coming from the far cubicle. The American scurried over, to find the cubicle unlocked and Alex hunched over the toilet. 

“Hey man.” He spoke gently, rubbing circles onto Alex’s back. “It’s alright.” 

Alex didn’t respond, only dry heaved again. He wasn’t bringing anything up but saliva, but it was distressing all the same. 

“You’re okay.” Logan settled in behind him, bringing him into somewhat of a hug. “Was it the food?”

Shaking his head, Alex spat into the toilet bowl. His eyes were red, and Logan was unsure if this was from the retching or from crying. 

“Come on, sit down properly.” He guided Alex down to be more comfortable on the bathroom floor, which was as clean as a bathroom floor in a restaurant could get. It was a strange reversal of roles, with Alex having guided Logan throughout almost all of his short career. Holding him gently and comforting him was something Logan had never done. 

“It’s not the food.” Choked out Alex once he was able to speak, finally settling down a little. “It wasn’t- I’m sorry Logan.”

“What’s going on man? Why won’t you tell me? You don’t look well.”

“I can’t tell you, Logan. I can’t.” Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, and this time Logan was sure that they came from emotion. 

Logan shushed him as a sob wracked his body. “Hey, you’ve got to tell someone. Is it about work?” 

Alex nodded.

“Does Lewis know?” 

Alex nodded again. “He does. He- at first he got it. We had a fight, earlier today- I can’t-“ 

Pulling him in even closer, Logan squeezed around Alex’s shoulders. “I can’t help unless I know what’s going on. Whatever your secret is. I would never tell a soul.”

Hiding his face, another sob hit Alex’s chest, almost painful sounding. He cried for a little longer without saying anything, then finally lifted his head up. “Logan.” He held out his hand, gesturing to the ring on his fourth finger. “I am married. He’s in the bank, right now.”

“Oh.” Things were far more complicated that Logan could ever have known about. Than he would ever be important enough to be told about. 

Alex sobbed again. “He’s- I can’t get him out there, and he’s hurt. And he’s stupid and I’m worried that he’s going to get involved in something else that’s stupid before I can stop it.”

“Oh. Alex. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” He cried. “Don’t be sorry. There’s nothing to be sorry about. If there’s something to be sorry about then I’ve failed. I just don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. It hurts, Logan. It hurts me too, and I don’t think he knows that, and I don’t think that Lewis knows that.”

Logan paused briefly in thought. “But I know it.”

Alex sniffed. “Yeah. You do.”

“How can I help?” He asked, wanting anything he could do to make things better. 

Shaking his head, Alex stared down at the floor again, composing himself. “I don’t know. I can’t do anything about it tonight. He’s gone to sleep, so I won’t hear from him until the morning. Tomorrow I’ll try with Lewis again.”

“We’ve got to go into that bank.”

“At some point, even Lewis will see that that is the only conclusion.” Alex wiped his face with the back of his sleeve, shirt already dirty enough that he evidently didn’t care. “You know, he’s changed a lot. When I first started, he had a reputation for being reckless.”

“What changed?” Asked Logan, reaching for some toilet roll to give Alex to clean himself up properly. 

The Thai man shrugged. “I don’t know. Nico has changed him, I think.”

“In a good way?”

Alex paused. “I’m not sure.” 

Logan wasn’t sure how he felt about it either. He felt much more at ease sitting on the floor of the bathroom than he had done at any point during the meal, and the thought of going out there and explaining this to Nico filled him with dread. 

“I’m sorry for crying on you.” 

“It’s alright man. I’ve had worse.” He patted Alex on the back, and helped him up to standing, directing them both towards the sinks. “I’ll leave you here to get cleaned up?”

“Yeah.” Alex looked himself up and down in the mirror, then turned to Logan and smiled. “Thank you, Logan. You’re a good friend.”

Logan’s chest felt warm, in a good way. He couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks.”

Back at the table, things could only be described as chaos. Part of him regretted leaving Alex behind, because things had been much calmer in the bathroom. Franco and Lewis were both on the floor with wads of paper towels, Franco having dropped the gleeful expression he had had plastered on his face the entire night, and Lewis looking positively exhausted. Estaban stood beside them, using a napkin to pat his trousers down with his good arm.

“Hey, what happened?” He asked as he got close enough, able to see the red liquid that covered the floor. It flowed out around the table, like a pool of blood. 

Nico stood off to the far side. “It is entirely my fault. I got a bit too animated and spilt the wine all over poor Esteban.”

“It is okay, no need to apologise.” Esteban mumbled grumpily, and Logan wasn’t sure he believed the sentiment.

“I can’t even help clean it up, because these trousers cost me almost a thousand euro, and I would never get the stain out.” He laughed. “Luckily I have my Lewis on hand to help.”

There was something awfully possessive about the way he said my Lewis. Logan didn’t like it. 

“Is Alex alright?” Lewis asked from where he was on the floor, hands dripping with red wine.

Logan nodded. “He’s fine. Just not feeling very well.”

“I tell you what, I will go and get the bill. And then I believe it is time for us to get you all home.” Nico spoke quickly, and shimmied his way past Logan away from the table. Logan could have sworn he winked as he did. “Watch yourself there, Logan. You are right in the way.”

“Oh sorry.” He mumbled, shuffling his way around to help with the clean up efforts. Nico disappeared out of sight almost instantly, and Logan’s focus shifted.

He wetted one of the napkins with the jug of water from the table, and went to help Esteban clean off his trousers, the older man struggling having the use of only one arm. Eventually some of the wait staff came over with a mop bucket and helped clean the floor, allowing the group to somewhat relax. They weren’t in any trouble at least. Sitting back down, they waited at the table for the rest of their group to reconvene, as Lewis apologised a further time on his partner's behalf for the spillage.

Alex came out of the bathroom about five minutes later. He must have washed his face many times, his skin reddened but it wasn’t obvious he had been crying. He didn’t sit down, instead hovered behind Logan, eyes darting around the table. His hand fell on Logan’s shoulder gently. 

“Is everything alright?” Logan asked before the other man could speak.

Alex’s brow furrowed. “Do you have my phone?” 

Logan patted his pockets down instinctively. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“I can’t find it. I thought I’d put it in my pocket. It’s not there.”

“Your phone?” Lewis, this time asked, a look of concern filling his face. “When did you last have it?”

“I’m not sure. I definitely brought it with me. Shit.”

To the side of Logan, Franco looked puzzled. “We can just go look for it, no? It is just a phone, how far can it have gone?”

“Shit.” Alex repeated, ignoring Franco. He began to check every pocket again, limbs flailing around. “Shit, shit, shit, where is it? Fuck.”

“Are we missing something here?” Asked Esteban, genuinely curious. At least Logan was in the loop now and could infer why this phone was so important. “I didn’t realise you were that attached to your social media.”

Alex wasn’t listening. He practically collapsed down onto his knees, Logan scrambling up to catch him. “Hey, it’s got to be somewhere, you’ve got to breathe, okay? We’ll find it.” He looked up at Lewis with pleading eyes, trying to get the message across that he knew. He knew what was going on, and that this could be bad.

Taking the hint, Lewis nodded knowingly. “Guys, why don’t you check the men’s bathroom again, maybe it got dropped in there. Logan and I will check around the table.” 

Alex was beginning to hyperventilate, and Logan knew that they were getting funny looks from the other restaurant goers, but he didn’t care. Lewis was tearing the table apart, looking underneath every item, checking in everyone’s jackets. He looked almost as panicked as Alex did. “Alex, can we track it? What’s on that phone?” 

“I don’t have my laptop- I can’t without my laptop, the phone is meant to be a last resort thing for if I have to go out. Shit, Lewis, everything is on there. Everything. All my contacts with him- if they-“ 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Logan soothed him, rubbing his shoulders. “We don’t even know that someone’s got it, nevermind someone that would use it against us. And you have a lock on it?”

Nodding through gasping breaths, Alex’s knuckles had turned white around the chair he was gripping onto. “Yes. But it’s solvable, easily so. We put more protection on Geor- on his end, but we didn’t think this would be an issue. Nobody we didn’t trust should have come near my phone, fuck. I shouldn’t have come here with it.”

Lewis stopped his frantic searching, and knelt down in front of Alex. He peeled his tight grip off of  the chair and held his hands comfortingly. “You need to stop panicking. I’ll drive you home, we’ll get your laptop and track it. I’ll bring more officers in to have a look around here, check the CCTV. We don’t need to worry.”

“Lewis. We need to go and get him back. Please.”

Lewis paused, hid a brief expression of pain and ignored what Alex had said. “As soon as Nico is back, I’ll get things sorted. Logan, do you think you could order some Taxis for the rest of you?”

“Sure.” Logan nodded, happy to have some instruction. He got out his own phone, and began to slowly type in addresses. It was only once he got to his own address, and put in the details of the restaurant to the taxi company that he realised something was off. “Lewis?” He whispered, hoping that Alex wouldn’t hear. “Hasn’t Nico been gone a while. He said he was just going to pay the bill.” 

Lewis frowned. “I’ll go and check. Sit with Alex.” 

Time seemed to pass slowly as he sat with the softly shaking Alex, who had eventually allowed himself to be sat on a chair. Logan ran his fingers through his hair, desperately trying to do something to comfort a man who couldn’t be comforted. Franco and Esteban got back before Lewis did, not having found a phone, but returning with many questions as to why such a fuss had been raised. Logan didn’t feel like he could answer any of them, and Alex was in no state to, even if he wanted to. 

Returning with a puzzled look, Lewis hovered by the table. “I don’t know where he’s gone. There’s no sign of him, but my car’s still there.”

“Did he pay already?”

“I think so. But I can’t see him anywhere. It’s not like him to disappear without a fuss.”

“Do you think he went to look for the phone? Maybe he heard what was going on?” Franco asked innocently.

“I don’t know.” Lewis looked around nervously. “It’s really not like him at all. I don’t know where he could be, he wouldn’t just leave- God, if something has happened-“ 

Lewis was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder, and the group fell silent. The waitress for their table, a young woman who had put up with them the whole night, stood behind him. She had a metal tray with a piece of paper placed on top held in her hand. “Excuse me, Mr Hamilton. I think the gentleman you were with forgot to take the receipt with him when he left. I don’t know if you want to keep it?”

Lewis’s mouth dropped open slightly, then he composed himself and swallowed anxiously. “He left? Did he say where he was going?”

“He didn’t. Here, I think he wrote something on the bill.” She handed him over the paper, and Lewis took it with a shaking hand.

The Brit stood perfectly still, eyes widening as he read the receipt. He didn’t say a word, instead sinking to his knees slowly, face turning pale.

“What is it?” Logan asked, looking across at him. 

Alex was louder, with a face like thunder. “What does it say?”

Lewis didn’t answer. It didn’t look like Lewis could answer, like the words wouldn’t come out if they tried. The receipt dropped from his hand, floated through the air, and landed at Logan’s feet. 

Logan leant down and picked it up. It was a normal bill, listing the quantity of food they had eaten, followed by a large number of Euros that had been paid. Then, underneath it, written in ballpoint pen was a tiny heart. A tiny heart, a single word, a name, then a set of initials. And Logan, with his new understanding of what was going on, and his new role as a friend with Alex felt himself shudder as he read them, as he connected the dots that Lewis was evidently fighting with at that moment. As he realised what Nico was, what Nico had done. The words, and the moment that would be etched into his brain forever, because he was watching two separate lives fall apart in front of him. Two lives fall apart because of some words written on a receipt. And he couldn’t stop it, because what had been done had been done, what had been written had already been written. He could only stare down at the writing in his hand and hope that they stood a chance of fixing this. 

He took a deep breath, held out his hand, and showed them all what it said. 

Sorry, Lewis. N.R.

Chapter Text

Sebastian couldn’t sleep. As much as he tried, he couldn’t sleep. He hadn’t gotten more than an hour, not since they had entered the bank. He knew that he needed to, knew that him being on his a-game was pertinent to things going to plan, but it was near impossible to get the thoughts that filled his mind to shut up. And the more that he let them get to him, the worse it got. 

He had lost control. He had lost Fernando and he had lost control along with him

Perhaps he was being dramatic, letting things get to him. He had vowed that he wouldn’t let it, not this time, but it was difficult to ignore when his head was so full and the blood just would not wash off of his fingernails. How had he dragged all these people that he had grown to love into this bank, and allowed all these things to happen to them? How could he have spent months, years, planning for it and not managed to keep them all safe? 

And he wasn’t in control. He knew he wasn’t. Someone was informing the police, someone was informing Lewis of their every move. Nothing he planned could be secret, unless he told nobody. His crew, which he had selected himself, scrutinised so hard that he was sure he had gotten it perfect, had a mole. Fernando hadn’t been able to find them, and had seemingly lost his mind whilst trying to do so. Baring Charles, who was like a son to him, Seb still wasn’t sure who he could truly trust.

Did he have his suspicions? Yes, of course. But very little proof to go behind those suspicions. Max was new, and clever, but Charles seemed to trust him more than anyone else in that bank. He had made that very clear, a few hours earlier, when he had wandered into the kitchen. George too was clever, but how much could he really have been doing in the state he was in? Carlos seemed unlikely, unless everything with Lando had been a distraction, and it had certainly distracted him. The police had so much information on Pierre and Yuki, and they were both so impressionable, Seb would not have been surprised if one of them would have fallen for a deal. And Daniel. Even an old friend, who he had worked with before, would have his own secrets. It was an impossible question and he had nothing to go on. He couldn’t think of anything suspicious, nothing had happened that had caught his eye. But it was happening. Lewis knew what was going on, he was a step ahead of them. And that needed to stop. 

He needed sleep. Sleep would help him get things together. The bags under his eyes had never been more prominent, as he stared at his own reflection in the bathroom, hands gripping the white porcelain of the sink so hard that it could crack. The skin on his face was pale, redness on his cheeks from where he had rubbed at them. He could throw up. He couldn’t. He had to hold it together. 

They had to get out of the bank. Realistically they needed at least another day, to get things to completion, to get all the gold they needed. But things would work with what they had, Sebastian would still be making his point despite being a couple of million euros poorer than expected. He was still making his impact, and his team would still get paid.

Splashing cold water across his face, Seb took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. He straightened the collar of his shirt, pulled the suit jacket around himself, and smiled at his own reflection. 

They could bring this back. They could still win. 

He exited the bathroom with a smile pastered on his face, trying to look as put together as he could. His shoes tapped on the marble as he relaxed his shoulders backwards, and strode through the main hall. The hostages were still there, spead out around the hall. 

Valtteri had procured a set of cards from somewhere, and was teaching an enthusiastic Zhou and a barely concentrating Checo how to play a game. The trio didn’t notice his presence, not even when he stalked his way over to the front desk and gave a nod to Daniel who watched over them. The Australian had his gun in his lap, and his head resting in his hands and eyes nodding shut. He was tired of this. As they all were.

The only person who really acknowledged Sebastian’s presence was Lance. The young Canadian sat by himself, leant against one of the marble pillars at the far side of the room. He made direct eye contact, and then, surprisingly, gave a genuine smile. It was the first thing to fill Seb with any confidence over the past few days, that maybe he had changed one important mind. 

Oscar faced the other way, also sitting on his own. It was difficult to see much of his face, but from what could be seen the expression was only one of anger. And given what he was looking at, Sebastian couldn’t blame him. Carlos and Lando were seemingly fast asleep, held in each other's arms. 

He still couldn’t get his head around how Carlos could be so reckless. Seb hadn’t had him down as an idiot, but he had certainly made a stupid choice. Whatever had happened, he had taken advantage of a hostage, and had put the heist at jeopardy at the same time. And Lando, the young, reckless security guard, who had gotten far too involved and shot a police officer, had changed the trajectory of his life in doing so. As far as Sebastian was concerned, Lando was one of his now. As much as he despised the idea of taking a hostage out of the bank, Lando would face the consequences of what had been done if he was left. 

Giving the sleeping duo one last glance, he patted Daniel gently on his shoulder and squeezed comfortingly, before taking his leave. He continued his survey of the bank, wanting to settle himself. To get back on top of things. 

Next to the vault room. Sebastian didn’t go all the way in, instead poking his head around the metal door and silently watching. George was fast asleep again, cheek laid against his open laptop but no light from it shining onto his face. 

Charles and Max were whispering to each other. Max was harnessed in, tied to a bolt he had screwed into the floor next to the trap door, but was standing at the side of it. Charles was handing him a box, and giggled as he gave it over, Max seemingly less bothered by the weight. They said something to each other, so quiet that Seb couldn’t hear it, but it was tender. Max placed the box down, and ran his fingers across Charles’s jawline, softly again, and Seb felt like something he had suspected for a while had been properly confirmed. He couldn’t even be angry about it.

After a while, Max noticed that Seb was there, making harsh eye contact with him. It was almost a look of fear, shocked to see they were being watched. Seb smiled at him, and nodded. Let him know that this was okay. Neither of them said a thing. Sebastian disappeared before he needed to. 

Pierre and Yuki were loud enough that Sebastian could hear them long before he saw them. They were laughing with each other, shouting about nonsense, far at the other side of the bank from the vault. Once they were in view, it was more clear what they were up to- or moreso what Yuki was up to, because Pierre was seemingly just there to keep him company, sitting on a wooden crate of ammunition to the side of him. The Japanese man had a screwdriver in his hands, and was presumably tinkering with something particularly volatile. White packets covered the wall, stuck down with duct tape, that certainly hadn’t been there before. 

“Hello, Sebastian!” Pierre called, the first person to speak to him that evening. “For what do we owe you the pleasure?”

“Nothing. I am just taking a walk.” He nodded to the pair.

Pierre shrugged, looked quickly at Yuki and then back at Seb. “Are you sure you are okay boss? You look a bit-”

“A bit what?”

“Nothing.” Pierre promptly shut his mouth. His knuckles were bleeding through the bandage. He had hardly mentioned what Fernando had done to him, and Seb didn’t think he wanted to know. 

“What are you two doing?”

Yuki grinned. “Nothing. Just a backup plan. In case we need it.”

“Right.” Seb forced a smile again. Maybe it was good that they were making plans for themselves. Maybe it was good that they didn’t fully trust him to get them all out of the bank. 

He made one last stop on his journey around the bank. What was once his office. For obvious reasons, they had relocated most of the technology to the kitchen, the next best central room. Other than that, the office had been left exactly as it had been. 

Seb didn’t go in. The door was shut, and was going to remain so. He didn’t want to go in, there was nothing he would gain from seeing the scene again, other than upset. Placing his hand against the door, Seb allowed himself to lean into it, his palm flat against the wood. Gently he lay his forehead next to it, and allowed himself to breathe through the pain of it all. He stayed that way for a while. Breathing. Thinking. Vowing to sort things out. 

It was late by the time he got back to the kitchen. Nobody else was there, and his computer lay abandoned on the table. He could tell that it was later in the evening, even despite the lack of windows, because the temperature had dropped. The bank was cold, and the kitchen seemed even more so. The hairs on his arms were sticking up, even underneath the layers of his suit.

Maybe he could have fallen asleep. His eyes almost shut once he was sitting down on the kitchen chair, head lolling forwards a little as he waited for his laptop to load up. He should have tried to get some sleep. It was late, the clock on the laptop showing the time as ten in the evening, and if he was thinking logically he would have realised that he would get no productive work done when his brain was working so slowly. He didn’t realise that though. He had work to be done. 

Seb had plenty of contacts outside the bank. It was an important thing to protect himself, to keep the heist running they couldn’t completely isolate themselves. Kimi had fallen through, which by the sounds of it was entirely his own fault. They had worked together many times before, and this wasn’t the first occasion that Kimi had been arrested on his behalf. Seb had always sorted it out for him, had always gotten him out of any trouble, and that would have to be the case this time around. A problem for later. Kimi would have to hold his own for the time being. 

He scrolled through his other contacts. The tunnel was complete, by the sounds of things, so they needed to be picked up. He had planned for that, he had people ready for that, so he notified them. Nobody else had sent him a thing for a while. Disappointing. It gave him very little to work with. 

Still, there was work to be done. He had camera footage to watch, files on his team to read, anything he could find that would help him to get back control. He searched the news sites for anything on the heist. For anything that had been said about them, positive or negative. It was difficult to not get sucked into the drama of it all. 

The light of the laptop was starting to make his head hurt. A gnawing pain behind his eyes that was becoming difficult to ignore. He was getting nowhere. He was finding out nothing. All he was doing was frustrating himself further. 

It was only when he was on the verge of giving up, the verge of finally getting some sleep, that any progress was made. 

Progress was perhaps an understatement. It was more than progress. It was a revelation. 

Rosberg had never been his most trusted ally. He wasn’t a criminal, not by background. He was a journalist. A good one, and an angry one. They had very little in common, baring one thing. A temperamental relationship with Lewis Hamilton. 

Nico had approached Sebastian prior to the heist, offering his assistance. It was unclear how he had found out that the heist was even happening, but he knew enough. He wanted this enough. Rosberg had been there, years ago when Lewis had taken the lead in a negotiation for the first time. It hadn’t been one of Seb’s, something far less impressive than he would have done, but he remembered it well. Nico had spoken well of Lewis, had highlighted him as the one thing that had saved a bunch of hostages. At the same time, he disparaged the local police force, the superintendent, called them idiots for allowing it to even get this far. Seb didn’t follow it past then, but Nico had told him everything that had happened. The police raised concerns with him as a journalist, barred him from any future investigations, and blacklisted him from any conference. He had been fired fairly soon after. Lewis said nothing, at least according to Nico. Lewis went on with his career, and climbed the ranks, whilst Nico had to run away from it all. It was no wonder that he was angry. And he had held a grudge, evidently, because he wanted to help with this heist, only because he knew Lewis would be involved. 

Who was Sebastian to say no to that? 

It was safe to say, however, that he had expected very little to come from it. Having the media on their side was a start, but offered very little in terms of actual strategy within the bank. He was expecting some articles that made them look better, maybe some insider information. Nico had delivered far more than that. He had gotten close to Lewis. Very close. And apparently done so completely under the radar. And he was helping, gathering information on the officers outside of the bank. 

The police could have their inside man. Their own little secrets. Sebastian was allowed to have the same. It was a fair game. 

Seb wasn’t expecting much when he first saw the message pop up. It was short, just a single question. 

‘ Are you alone?- NR’

Suddenly more awake, Sebastian sat up, eyes widening at the notification. He typed an affirmative ‘yes’ and hit send. 

‘ Good. This should help you. -NR’

There was no chance for him to reply before the chat was filled with images. Screenshots. Of a chat system, almost identical to the one he was using. There were so many of them, loading up slowly, that it took Seb a while to work out what he was looking at. It took him even longer to read them, to read all of them. Information about the heist, about everything that had been happening since the moment they had entered the bank. Some even from before then, the planned timings that only his team had known. Timings that even Rosberg didn’t know. 

It read a little weirdly. A dialogue between two people, one writing in perfect grammar, writing punctuated and obviously well thought through. The person replying was much less professional, coming across more like text messages to a partner. It was difficult to work out who it was, not from first glance, and other than himself and Fernando, names were very rarely mentioned. But Nico had to know more. 

This was the finding that would change everything. Seb felt sick.

‘ Is this real?’ Seb typed out slowly, once he had read as much as he could. 

‘ 100%.’ Nico replied, then after a pause sent another message. ‘ You will never guess who Alex Albon is married to.’

Sebastian didn’t remember how he got out of the kitchen and across the hall. His head was swimming and he was angry. He felt betrayed and furious and almost unwell with what he had been told. His pistol was in his hand. He didn’t recall when he had picked it up, but it was there. The cold metal felt good in his palm. 

His legs took him through the corridors, storming his way towards the vault. His shoes were louder now, cracking the marble beneath him, but he could hardly hear it with the way his ears were ringing, the way his brain was so completely full. Although he knew that they had someone spreading information to the police, and had done for the past couple of days, this had made it so real, confirmed everything to him. It hurt. He wanted him dead. 

It felt like his face was burning. It probably looked like it was. Sebastian didn’t particularly want to know what he looked like. He must have looked fairly abysmal, or at least have been wearing his emotions for the world to see, judging by the reaction from Charles and Max.

Charles moved himself to stand right infront of Max, like he was protecting him, which was interesting. “Seb? Are you okay?”

“Is he awake?” He ignored the question, and began to walk over to George, who was in a similar position to when he last saw him, curled up on the cushion almost hugging his laptop. 

Once again, Charles stepped forwards protectively, stopping Seb from getting any closer to the sleeping Brit. “He’s been asleep for a while- Seb, what’s wrong?”

“I need to wake him up.”

Laughing awkwardly, Max got a little closer to the group, putting down the crate he was holding. “Do you not think you should put that gun down? It’s a pretty enclosed room and-”

“You need to be quiet.” He looked at Max briefly, then back to Charles. He didn’t want to explain this to them, he was too tired to explain this to them, he just needed to sort it out. “Charles. Wake him up, please.”

Anxiously, Charles shuffled backwards, and when he was sure that nobody else was going to move, knelt down besides George and gently shook his shoulder. “Georgie.” He whispered, just loud enough that Seb could hear. “Come on mate, you need to get up.”

Max tried to stop him from getting any closer, placing a hand on Sebs shoulders to slow his movements. Sebastian wasn’t about to let that happen. 

“What do you want from him? He’s pretty badly hurt.” Max was defending George. Seb must have looked terrifying. 

“You have no idea what is going on, Verstappen.” He mumbled as he pushed past, walking underneath his arm. “Is he awake?”

George was, indeed, awake, fluttering his eyes open with a grumbled “What?” falling out of his mouth. He looked up at Charles first, who directed him to Seb. Something must have clicked when he saw Seb walking towards him slowly, because his eyes widened ever so slightly. He knew what was going on. He knew what he had done. 

Seb squated down beside him. “How are you feeling, George?” 

“Seb-” He started, trying to push himself up, but failing. 

Shushing him, Seb reached out a hand and ran it through his hair. “Turn the cameras back on.”

“Hey- Vettel, why-” Max tried to interrupt but was ignored.

Charles seemed to pick up on what was going on better than Max did, stepping back from the scene instead of getting involved. “Seb you don’t look well. Please tell me what’s going on.”

George never broke eye contact. He silently reached for his laptop, slowly turning it on, and clicked some keys. “They’re on.”

“All of them?”
“All the cameras are on.”

“Seb, what are the cameras for?” Charles had his hand around the top of Sebastians arm, pulling very gently, trying to ease him away.

Seb smiled, that feeling of anger still burning so hard in his chest. “We’re going to put on a show, aren’t we Georgie? For our friends. For your friends.”

Not answering, George swallowed heavily, eyes starting to water. 

“Come on. I’ll help you up.” He held an arm out to the Brit, then grabbed him by his wrist when he didn’t take it.  

“Please don’t.” He muttered, pleading quietly, barely audible over the arguments of Max and Charles in the background. 

The duo did not stop talking. Charles was more gentle, trying to find out what was wrong, trying to convince Seb to speak with them, to sit down, to stop. As much as he loved Charles, he wasn’t going to do that. Max was angrier, more confused, on the verge of shouting as he gestured wildly and tried to stop him from moving George. 

He did his best to block them out. They were only getting in his way at this point, making his head hurt even more than it already was. With one swift move, he pulled George up onto his feet, the younger man gasping as he did, leaning into Seb for support almost instantly. 

“Seb! Please stop, you’re hurting him.” Charles protested again, pulling gently on his arm. To the other side Max was doing his best to help George, to keep him standing, looking so confused as he did. 

“He can barely stand, Sebastian.” Max had his shoulder underneath the Brits arm, offering as much support as he could. “At least let me-“

“No.” With his free hand, he stroked a finger down George’s cheek. “You’ll walk, won’t you?” 

George exhaled deeply. “Yeah. I’ll walk.” 

Getting out of the vault and making any progress was more difficult. George dragged his feet, moved so slowly that it almost felt purposefully. It probably was, the man was clever, he had made that clear. And the only sensible option he had was to stall, to give them as much time as possible to get him out. He wasn’t strong enough to fight it. Normally he would have been, he was bigger than Seb, younger, fitter. But right at that moment he didn’t have any of that, didn’t have any way to fight back. 

“You don’t have to, Seb.” He whispered, leaning his head into Sebastian’s shoulder. “Please don’t.”

“I don’t want to.” He replied, also in a whisper. And really, he didn’t want to. But he couldn’t stop himself. Not after he had been made to look so stupid, not when he couldn’t think of any other solutions. “But you know how this goes, George.”

“No.” He tried to look up, and Seb just caught a look of his teary eyes before turning away. “Please.” 

Ignoring him, Sebastian focussed his eyes down the corridor. The floor was moving underneath him, his vision not quite feeling right as he tried his best to keep his eyes open, keep dragging the two of them along as the feeling of anger in his chest was the only thing keeping him moving. 

In the background, Charles was speaking frantically through the earpiece, at such a speed and pitch that Seb couldn’t work out what was being said. Someone replied, someone was saying his name, he ripped the earpiece out and threw it to the floor. He didn’t need them to help him, he didn’t need them to speak to him. He needed to keep his team safe, and he was the only one who could fix everything that had gone wrong.

“Seb, come on man, put him down.” Daniel must have caught on to what was going on, because he stopped them at the door to the main hall, smile completely faded from his face. He had his arms reached out like he was going for a hug, but it felt more like he was just getting in the way. 

“Leave it. You don’t understand even half of what is going on, Daniel.”

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Daniel laughed awkwardly. “How can I know mate, you won’t talk to any of us. Come on, leave Russell with Charles and Max and we’ll have a chat. You don’t look well.”

“Fuck you.” Seb muttered, pushing his way past and dragging a now sobbing George with him. 

“Seb, this isn’t you.” He called, following behind. He groaned shortly after getting no response, muttering under his breath “Shits sake.” 

Too focussed on his task to care, Sebastian made his way up the stairs, taking each step slowly whilst George tried his best to resist every movement. The Brit wasn’t exactly kicking and screaming, more dragging his long legs, making the entire process difficult. Around the two of them there was movement, hostages being moved, someone at the door at the top of the staircase. The phone was ringing and something was hitting rhythmically against the front doorway. He blocked it all out. 

George fell to his knees once they had reached the top, panting heavily. Sebastian himself was short of breath, taking a second to pull himself together with a hand still on George’s wrist, gripping tightly.

“Can we talk?” Coughed George, visibly shaking.

“What have you got to say?” Tightening his grip, he was at least a little curious to see if he had anything left, any more excuses, any more lies. 

“You would have done the same. If you were me.” He turned his head, looking upwards at Seb. “I think we’re quite similar.”

“We are not similar. I would not be so two faced as to betray all of my friends.”

“I think-“ He coughed again, using his free hand to wipe the tears from his face. “I think you would have. You don’t want to hurt me.”

Seb tried to take a deep breath, to calm himself down, to at least give the man the benefit of being listened to. “Why did you do it, George?”

“It’s my job. I wanted to be good at it. I wanted to be the best.” 

“Shit.” Muttering, Sebastian sighed and let go of George’s wrist, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he had gotten ahead of himself. He needed his brain to think. 

“Seb. Please don’t hurt me.” 

“Are you sorry? Do you regret it?”

“I- I don’t-“ He looked away for the first time. “You need to think about this. Lewis will be here soon. Think about it logically, if we just talk this out we can-“

“You can go home, with no consequences.” Seb reached down to his side, placing his hand around his pistol, grip tightening, and flicked the safety switch.

George looked back up at him. “No, no- I mean you could have a chance to get away- nobody needs to get hurt, Seb.” 

Nobody needs to get hurt . Like he had done nothing wrong, like he had not been directly involved in almost every failure that they had had. Like he hadn’t killed Fernando.

Fernando, who despite all his faults, would still be alive if it wasn’t for George. 

Gently he reached out, and grasped his fingers into George’s hair, grasping enough to keep him still but not enough to hurt. He has made them all look like idiots. And he had taken a life in doing so. Sebastian wasn’t going to allow him to get away with it scott free.

George started to cry again as Sebastian placed the barrel of the gun against the back of his head. “Please Seb. Please. I’m married, I’ve got a family. Please don’t.”

“Be quiet.” He hissed, speaking partially to George, and partially to the noise in the rest of the room. 

Someone was shouting at him from the bottom of the stairs, and he looked across just momentarily to see it was Charles, screaming something in his direction. He couldn’t quite make out what it was, not with the way his ears were ringing, not with the incessant banging on the door that had only got more violent, but he could tell that Charles was upset. Charles was devastated. And he hated that feeling. He hated seeing the people he loved upset.

George was shaking so violently it was becoming difficult to hold him still, and his sobbing was the loudest thing in the room. He was muttering between cries, gasping out the same word again and again, more desperate each time. “Alex. Alex. Alex.”

Hesitating, Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and tried to slow his breathing down once again, tried to make his brain act rationally. This wasn’t him. This wasn’t going to solve anything. It wasn’t going to bring Fernando back, it wasn’t going to fix any of the problems this heist had had. 

He started to shake himself, nausea hitting him suddenly where anger had once been. He looked down at the gun in his hand, the way it pressed into the brown hair of someone he had once considered a friend. 

This wasn’t what he wanted to do.

Sebastian should have focussed on his surroundings more. He should have gotten some more sleep. The banging at the door had stopped, but he hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in the moment, lost in his own anger and his own fear. 

An explosion filled the room out of nowhere, a great roar that shook the floor and made his ears ring, the front door of the bank being thrown off of its hinges completely. It threw Charles off to the side, disappearing out of view into the smoke. The marble floor cracked, splintering across the main hall up to the staircase. 

Sebastian jumped out of his skin, his heart thumping in his chest as the force of the attack hit him. He hadn’t expected the shock of it. 

He didn’t even realise he had pulled the trigger.

He didn’t even realise he had pulled the trigger until George fell from his grip, and toppled down the stairs.

Sebastian took one look down at him, dropped to his knees, and screamed.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing that George had always bugged him about, it was Alex’s tendency to be late. 

That was a lie. There was a long list of things that George would complain about, and most of them were fair enough. He was messy, he brought too many animals into the house, woke up too late, the list went on and on. But being late had been a constant one, even from the day they first met. 

The academy had an introductory talk on the first day, and Alex, naturally, arrived ten minutes late. He had good enough reason- his mum had insisted he eat a proper breakfast, and his mum was always right- but it didn’t save the scornful looks from the office leading the session. There was only one seat left, right at the front of the room. 

And, on the seat next to him, was George. George who had left his home in the country, living by himself for the first time, just to join the academy. Sat at the front because he wanted to give his full attention. Initially, Alex thought he was a bit of a wanker. Nobody else has shown up wearing a shirt and tailored trousers. Nobody else would put their hand up to clarify the curriculum. 

First impressions were bullshit anyway. He found himself sitting next to George again the next day, and the day after that they gravitated towards the same group in their gym session. 

George asked him on a date a week later. It was awkward, and charming, and Alex had laughed and said yes before George had a chance to finish speaking. 

They had another date after that. Then another. Then Alex had brought George round to meet his family and his mum was instantly enamoured with him. He had become a part of their household almost instantly, getting on with all Alex’s siblings, tolerating his pets. 

George was perfect. George had always been perfect.

They got married in the summer, five years after they had met. It had been a long ceremony, and a big one. Alex had a large extended family, and George’s were the type to insist that everything be done traditionally. It had taken some effort to get George to relax into it, the man having spent so long planning the event, micromanaging it like it was an exact science, but once they had kissed at the altar everything had slowed down. It felt like they were in the right place. Together.

Alex took him to Thailand, after their wedding. Alex kissed him on the beach under a sunset and everything was perfect. 

Of course, their relationship had its flaws. Alex knew what he was getting into with that, he knew that George was picky and George was argumentative and George pushed himself too far. He never had to wonder what George thought of him, because he made his feelings- good or bad- known, always. Alex always quite liked that about him. There was a lot Alex liked about him. 

When Alex had got appendicitis, they had only been dating a few months. George had been there the whole time. Frantic and anxious, but he was there. Even whilst Alex slept, he had been there at his side, working away on his laptop. He had been there when Alex had woken up, lied his way into the recovery room. 

He was always very good at lying. Never to Alex. He made that clear, he wouldn’t ever lie to Alex. Withhold the truth, perhaps, but never a lie. Other people were fair game. George was very good at his job because of it. 

They never officially worked together. Alex did things normally, started in a low ranking role, worked his way up. George jumped around from job to job, talking his way into where he wanted to be. Into whatever was the most exciting. Into whatever would get him the furthest. He was always going to go far.

There had been an argument about this job. They didn’t like to work together on principle- it wasn’t safe, and it wasn’t good for their relationship. Alex didn’t like the idea of him going under cover either. Not for the amount of time he had planned to. It was dangerous, and it would mean they would have to be apart from each other. For a long time. So Alex had agreed to help, and agreed to take the case. He hated it. He hated every bit of it. But at least he kept contact with George, he got to keep an eye on what George was doing and reassure himself that he was safe. 

But George wasn’t safe anymore.

They squeezed into Lewis’s car. Alex took the front seat, eyes forward and not speaking as he strapped himself in. His mind was only filled with George. He had to get to George. He was vaguely aware of Esteban, Franco and Logan getting into the back of the car, the latter still trying to talk to him but he wasn’t listening. Lewis was taking too long. They needed to get to the bank. 

“Just- just fucking drive.” The words found him before he knew he was even saying anything. It wasn’t like him to speak like this, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk calmly. They needed to go.

Lewis didn’t seem phased by the abruptness, silent himself as he turned the key in the ignition. Brows furring, his hand tapped at the steering wheel anxiously as they pulled out of the car park. “Logan, call the team up at the bank, see if they can locate this phone.” His voice was purely instructional, like he had defaulted back to being their boss and not their friend. “Alex. Get the sirens turned on. The control panel is by the rear view mirror.” 

Alex knew he was being given a job to do to distract himself. Lewis was more than capable of turning on the sirens independently. He was grateful for it regardless, flicking the switches until the concealed police car was lit up with blue and the siren sounds wailed into the night. 

Through the streets they sped, cars moving out the way for them as they weaved through the traffic. Alex gripped onto the dashboard, leaning forwards like it would help in some way, trying to ground himself. His ears were ringing so much that he couldn’t make out the words of what Logan was saying over the phone, but it didn’t sound positive. 

“Lewis. Please. We need to go faster.” 

Lewis nodded, eyes locked straight forwards. “I know. I’m going as fast as I can.” 

George always drove too quickly. He had a multitude of speeding fines to his name, all of which he had argued were completely unreasonable. In Alex’s opinion they probably were correct to fine him, but he was never going to tell George that. It was probably a good job that he had never earned a car like Lewis’s.

It seemed to take hours to get to the bank, certainly feeling longer than it should have, but Alex wasn’t in the frame of mind to check the clock. Lewis didn’t park properly, stopping right by the tent with a screech of the brakes. The crowds had almost completely died down by this time, but a few members of the public still had to jump out of the way. 

Not waiting for any instruction, Alex clambered out of the car whilst the engine was still running. Someone shouted something at him, he wasn’t sure who it was or what they said. He had to get into the bank.

With some difficulty, he weaved his way through the barriers, pushing past people that tried to stop him. There were more shouts, but he didn’t let them slow him down, not until he was past the yellow tape and got to the bottom of the stairs that lead up to the bank. He was so close. George was in there. 

There were two officers at the base of the steps. Alex didn’t even know their names, which he felt a little guilty about, but it hardly mattered to him at that moment. They stepped together, stopping him from going any further.

“You need to let me in.” He realised it sounded like he was begging, but he didn’t care. “Please. Let me in. Please.”

“Sir, I don’t know if-“

“No, please.” 

“Sir-“ The man stopped and looked into the distance, past Alex.

There was a gentle hand on his shoulder before he could turn to see what he was looking at. Lewis’s voice finally got through to him. “Alex.” 

Slowly, he spun around on his heels, pushing Lewis’s hand off his shoulder. “No. You can’t stop me this time.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you here?” His eyes filled with tears, threatening to spill over any second. “Why are we not in there?”

“We will be. Put this on.” Held by Lewis’s side was a bulletproof vest, and Alex hadn’t noticed that the Brit had fully suited up, gun holstered at his hip. He handed the jacket over with firm hands, and Alex took it gratefully, pulling it over his head and tightening the straps. Lewis then handed him a small pistol, giving him a nod. “You shouldn’t need it, but just in case.” 

“Thanks.” He took the weapon and clipped his radio onto the vest, wiping the tears off his face with the back of his hand. “Thank you.”

Lewis then turned to the officers manning the door. “Get the battering ram ready. We’ll wait for the others here.”

Lewis discouraged Alex from getting too close whilst they waited. They had the most prolific sniper in the country on their side, as he was reminded, not to mention that there were likely more explosives and traps set up than they knew about. Alex didn’t care. George would have told him if there was anything to worry about, and he needed to be closer.

The doors were heavy, and must have been reinforced from the other side. Once he had snook his way up the stairs, Alex gave one of them a push. No movement. He gave up quickly on this, allowing the professionals to do their job. Instead he decided that the most useful thing would be to try and get through to George if he was there. He had to be there. Alex pressed his ear up against the door, trying to make out any noise, trying to work out what was going on. Did Sebastian know? Had the information from his phone been leaked? 

He couldn’t hear a thing. But, regardless, there was a horrible feeling of dread that hit him deep in his stomach. 

“We need to hurry up.” He explained to Lewis once the older man joined him by the door. Logan and Franco tailed him, but looking out of place in the slightly too-large equipment. 

Lewis sighed, the stress evident on his face. “I know.” He leant forwards, tapped his hands on the door lightly, then spoke into his radio. 

“What about the cameras?” Franco asked anxiously. 

Alex didn’t know anything about any cameras. What was happening with the cameras? “What?” 

“Alex, don’t worry about it.” Lewis couldn’t have made him any more worried with that. “Seb and George are in the hall. We need to be careful, that’s all.”

He was hiding something. He wasn’t telling Alex everything he knew. It was obvious. From the way he spoke, from the guilt ridden look on Logan’s face. Something was happening. “Is it the CCTV? Is it back on? What did you see?”

“Albon, I said not to worry.”

“Please-” 

Lewis ignored his plea, acting with new urgency. “We’re ready. Everyone get into their positions.” 

With confidence that came from nowhere, Alex stepped up closer to the door, only to quickly be pulled back. To his surprise, it was Logan with a hand on his shoulder. “Come on man, you’ll be no good to him if you get shot as soon as the door opens.” 

Alex knew he was right. Reluctantly, he let himself fall back, tucking himself around the corner with Logan and Franco. Lewis stayed a little further forwards, pistol held downwards, pointing at the floor.

It felt as if the world fell silent, Alex could feel his heart thumping in his chest. Beating rhythmically, matching the steps of the officers bringing the ram up to the door. His vision was a little blurry around the edges, and it was difficult to work it if that was from tears or the fact he was starting to get slightly dizzy.

The electric system of the battering ram lit up, and he watched as it was placed against the door, the officers that had set it up tiptoeing back from the door before remotely starting the machinery. It looked simple, easy even, and Alex couldn’t help but wonder why they couldn’t have done this sooner. Whatever reasoning Lewis had given him, why was it only now that he had made this decision? 

The mechanism drew back, and time seemed to slow as it swung towards the door. Alex’s heart jumped with the crash it made against the wood, but there was barely a splinter. No movement came. 

They tried again. The group was silent as they waited. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Again. 

Why wasn’t it working? Maybe he was being impatient, maybe his mind wasn’t quite up to speed with the situation, but he could tell that they were making no progress. Whatever they had done to that door, they had made it strong enough to withhold the police equipment. 

“What have they reinforced that door with?” Logan whispered quietly from behind him. Nobody answered. 

Alex didn’t care what it was that was stopping them, he just wanted to get in. He just wanted to get to George. For a split second, he thought he could hear George calling out his name.

The way he would when he was annoyed, leaning on the second syllable like his voice would snap. The way he would so softly say his name when Alex was sick, gently waking him up from sleep. The way he said his name on that beach, all that time ago when it was just the two of them, and Alex’s name falling out of George’s mouth was the only thing that was important. 

The voice of Lewis brought him back to reality. Frantic, uncharacteristically so, he got up close to the battering ram. “Why the fuck isn’t this working.” He looked around, and locked eyes with Alex. Something unrecognisable flickered in his vision, and he sighed. “Fuck it.”

Signalling with a hand, Lewis motioned for another officer, a woman clad in much heavier armour, to come up the steps with a plastic crate. White packages, wrapped in duct tape and covered in wires were removed, and hastily stuck to the wooden surface of the door. There was no denying what this was for. 

Franco was muttering some excited rambling, which Alex barely listened to. Logan, on the contrary, was much more apprehensive, speaking up with a timidness to his voice. “Is this definitely a good idea?”

“Yes.” Alex gave back the one word answer. They had to get through the door, and this was the quickest way to do it.

Pulling on his bullet proof vest, Franco dragged Alex to face him. “Do we need to stand back?” 

Alex watched as Lewis took a small remote from the female officer, and held it in his palm, staring at it intensely. Alex wasn’t going to step backwards, but Logan and Franco didn’t need to be in danger. “Yes. You should.” 

Not one of them moved. 

Lewis bit down on his lip, and looked at Alex one last time. “Everyone ready?”

Alex nodded. He had been ready for this for days. 

Turning back to face the door, Lewis smiled grimly, finger darting over the detonator. “Stay safe. And cover your ears.”

It felt like the explosion rippled through Alex, he could feel it in his chest, in his stomach, in his head. The force of it, despite being far enough away that he was uninjured, made his ears ring, a screaming tinnitus that took a moment to ease. There was heat for a moment, and a ploom of smoke that obscured the view into the bank, but one thing was clear. The doors, the barrier that had separated them, had been completely obliterated. 

Alex’s feet took him forwards, into the fog, into the unknown, before anybody could stop him. Someone was shouting his name again, Logan, he realised, sounding scared. He didn’t let that stop him. He was going to get into the bank. He was going to get George. 

If George had known what he was doing, he would have called him stupid. Running into an active area, completely unaware of what was awaiting him, with no back up. He didn’t even have his gun out. 

The hall was completely obscured by smoke, and for a moment he couldn’t make anything out. Someone he didn’t recognise was screaming. Someone was shouting across the way, far enough away that Alex couldn’t make out what they were saying over the hum in his ears. 

His legs slipped out from under him as he ran forwards, knees hitting the marble in a way that should have been painful. He kept going in a half crawl half run, not even bothering to keep his head down. There were footsteps behind him, but he didn’t turn to see who it was. 

His mind was locked on one thing. On one person. George. His George who fussed and annoyed the hell out of him and worried him so much. His George, who he loved more than anyone else in the world. 

George, who hated that Alex was always late. 

He was too late. 

A wail escaped his lips that he didn’t even realise he was capable of producing, as the smoke cleared just enough that he could make out a figure infront of him. Lying on the floor, curled up at the bottom of the marble staircase. Not moving. He wasn’t moving. 

Alex was running faster, his breath catching and making his chest scream. He sank to his knees beside him, hands shaking as he pulled George over by his shoulders, rolling him onto his back. He didn’t move, didn’t respond to him, limp beneath him. Eyes closed, face completely still. “George? Georgie?”

He dropped his radio as he tried to pull it out of his jacket, clattering to the ground with a shatter. With a tremor he grabbed it again, speaking into it to anybody that would listen. His voice came out frantic. “Medic. Please. We need a medic.”

Pulling George into his arms, he cradled him close to his chest, feeling the fading warmth of his body, waiting for him to wake up. Waiting for him to respond and hold him back again. “George. Come on. Please. Come back to me. Open your eyes.”

He was sobbing. They were in the centre of the room like sitting ducks, but he didn’t even care. Desperately he tried to recal any medical training he had been given, and he manovered George around to find something he could fix. Was he bleeding? Unconscious? Had his infection gotten worse? Alex couldn’t work out what was happening, and it was getting difficult to see through the smoke and the tears. His hands wrapped around the back of George’s head as he brushed through his hair comfortingly, and came back coated in a warm wettness. 

Blood. Lots of it. He hadn’t noticed. 

“No, no, no. George- Please we need the medic-”

He put pressure on the wound. He had nothing but his hands, but he did what he had to. Pulling George up further, he held him against his shoulder, other hand wrapping around his chest tightly, like he would never let him go. George was getting colder, arms falling limply into Alex’s lap. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you Georgie.”

It was unclear how much time had passed. Things were happening around them. Alex didn’t bother to look. Noises- gunshots, explosions- they couldn’t bother him. He had one priority. No one came to help him. No doctor. He called into the radio again. Nothing. They were taking too long. He rocked back and forth, clutching his husband like he was the most important thing in the world. He was the most important thing in the world. 

“We’ll get you some help, alright?” If the medic wasn’t coming to them, he had no choice. “You’ll be okay. Come on. Please.” 

His legs were shaking too much. He tried to stand the two of them up, but George was a dead weight. They had barely gotten off the ground before falling back again. He tried again, falling even sooner this time. Sobbing, he clawed at George’s blood-soaked shirt, trying to pick him up once more, grasping for any response. He needed help. He was getting nowhere.

Lewis knelt down in front of him. His face was pale. “Alex.” He stated clearly. 

“Lewis- we need a medic. Help me get him up.”

Lewis couldn’t meet his gaze. Not that Alex cared. His focus was elsewhere. “Alex.” The older man repeated again. 

“What are you doing?” Alex cried, finally getting George back into his lap. “Get some help!”

“Alex, I’m so sorry.”

“No- Lewis, tell them to get here now- he’s hurt-” He tried to explain, but he knew he sounded frantic. He wondered if Lewis could understand a word of what he was saying. 

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Lewis stroked his back gently. “It’s over, Alex.”

“What do you mean? No-” 

How could it be over? They hadn’t helped George. They hadn’t gotten him out yet. They hadn’t fixed it. George was so cold. His face had lost all colour, lost all the life that had previously inhabited it. The life that Alex loved so much. 

No. This wasn’t it. This wasn’t the end. It couldn’t be. 

Logan was there. Standing beside him. He didn’t know what to do. Alex could tell. He held a hand down to him. “Alex. Come with me.”

Alex’s head snapped up to look at him. “No- I need-”

He kept his arm extended. “I’m sorry.” 

Everyone kept saying sorry. Why did they keep apologising? “Fuck off.” He shouted, not caring about any trouble he would get in. “Both of you. If you’re not going to help. Leave us alone. Leave- Leave me alone- fuck-”

He brushed Lewis’s hand off his back and turned away from Logan. He had no idea if they left or not. He didn’t care. He didn’t need them. They disappeared into the silence of the room. Alex didn’t miss their presence.

The hall was cold. The floor was cold as Alex lay down, holding George in his arms still, curling up around him. Waiting for him to wake up. Waiting for him to say something, to laugh at him for worrying so much, to explain something so condesendingly that Alex wouldn’t know whether to slap him or laugh. He waited. And it didn’t come. George didn’t move.

Alex realised something, that maybe he had realised a little while back.

He was alone. George wasn’t coming back to him.

“I love you.” Alex whispered, brushing his fingers through George’s hair. He kissed down gently on his forehead. “I’ve got you back, Georgie. I love you .”

Chapter Text

The explosion dazed Charles, throwing him backwards from the door. It took his mind a second to catch up, waking up on the floor, covered in a thin grey dust. He coughed, lungs burning with whatever he had just inhaled, and tried to open his eyes enough to see what was going on. 

Sebastian had been there, at the top of the stairs with George, and everything had felt so wrong. He still didn’t quite understand what had happened, what had sent Seb into such an uncharacteristic rage, but he had managed to pull some of the pieces together. They were looking for someone who had betrayed the group- and somehow, Seb had stumbled on the conclusion that it was George. That, along with the sleep deprivation that he knew the German was suffering from had culminated in whatever this situation was. He only hoped that the explosion had brought Seb to his senses before he did something he would regret. 

The explosion made less sense. At first he assumed it was Yuki- explosions tended to involve Yuki or Pierre or, more often, both of them. But the youngest member of their crew was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Sebastian. The room had filled completely with smoke, he couldn’t see a thing. He couldn’t even work out which way to run. 

Not good. He needed to get out of there. Where was everyone else. They had been around, before everything had exploded. Daniel was near him, trying to round up the hostages away from the commotion. Max had been right behind him. Carlos was there, albeit distracted. 

Charles coughed, spluttering so hard that he felt like he was going to bring up a lung. He gasped in a breath, and tried to clear out his ears to hear what was going on. They were still ringing, reeling from the force of the explosion. 

Someone pulled him up onto his feet. They wrapped their arms around him, and for a moment Charles thought he should struggle, but a calming voice brought him back to earth. Max. “Charles. Are you okay?”

He nodded, not able to bring any words up yet. 

“Thank God.” Max squeezed him tightly. “Come on. We need to go. Hamilton is here.”

Charles wheezed. “The police? How did they get in?” 

“They’ve blown the fucking door off.” Explained Max, starting to tug Charles along. “We need to get a move on, get to the tunnel. Are you hurt?”

His head was spinning a little still, and his body ached, but he could wiggle his fingers and toes which had to be a sign that everything was intact. 

“I don’t think so- Max, what about Seb- George- we need to get them-”

Max frowned, his face the only visible thing through the smoke. “There is no time. They’ll get us all if we don’t leave.”

A little part of Charles knew he was right. He couldn’t even see where he would run to in order to find the rest of the heist crew, there was no sign of them. It would have been such a risk, and not one that he knew he wanted to take. But, normally he would have trusted Seb to get himself out of a situation like this. Today, he wasn’t sure that was true. “I can’t leave Sebastian. He’s like a father to me.”

Briefly, Max hesitated. “Okay. We will wait for him in the vault.”

Charles smiled, pulling Max down by his jaw and kissing him squarely on the lips. “Thank you.”

“Enough of this.” Max smiled, but quickly the serious expression returned to his face. “Keep yourself ahead of me.”

They managed to get out of the hallway before the smoke cleared, which was fortunate because that seemed to be the moment that everything kicked off. Charles could hear gunshots coming from the hallway, unclear who the battle was between, but Max didn’t slow down the speed to give him any time to work it out. They worked well as a pair, Charles checking each corner they turned and slowly making sure the road ahead was safe, whilst Max walked backwards almost the entire time, gun in hand, on high alert for anyone following them. 

“Are they following us?” Charles asked, turning around only briefly. “Are they behind?”

“No fucking clue. I don’t want to stick around and find out. Did Seb tell you anything about what we do once we’re in the tunnel?”

Charles shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Fine. We’ve just got to go for it.”

Max was right. They had no better chance. They just had to hope that Seb’s plan would fall into place, and that something would be waiting for them in that tunnel. Max had followed the specification perfectly, and Charles could only hope that everything would come together. 

It was about halfway to the vault when trouble kicked off. And, once again, it was not their fault. 

Carlos, arm outstretched with his gun held forward, sprinted into the corridor the duo had just run down, firing shots off as he did. Lando was at his side, naturally, although sensibly did not have a weapon this time. He didn’t run quite as fast, still wobbly-looking on his feet, and Carlos was obviously holding himself back to allow the younger man to keep up. 

“Fuck.” Max grumbled, slowing down. ”We should help them.”

Max didn’t come across as nonchalant as he would have liked to. He was going to help them because he wanted to. Charles stopped and nodded to him. “We will.” 

“They’re coming in through the main door!” Lando shouted across the corridor to them, running towards Max as he did. 

Carlos fired off another two shots, not looking away from the doorway.

“There’s a lot of officers.” To his credit, the young Brit seemed relatively controlled, not as stressed with these situations as he had been previously. “A lot of guns.”

“Run faster then.” Max shouted back, stating the obvious. He himself ran forwards, aiming to get Lando to a safer position so he could help Carlos. 

“Is it just the two of you?” Asked Charles, just loud enough that they could hear.

“Yes. Just us.” Explained Carlos, not turning around. “I do not even know what has happened.”

“It’s George-“ Lando started, out of breath and barely getting his words out.

Charles nodded. “Yes, we know. Seb thought he was a spy.”

“No, no.” Finally, Lando made it to Max, who promptly pushed him out of the way and towards the Monegasque. “You don’t understand, Seb was right. George is a police officer-“ 

Max scoffed. “George?”

“Yes. No he is. I recognised him-”

Carlos ducked around the door, reloading his pistol. There was a look of confusion on his face, directed in Lando’s direction. “Lando? Why would you not say?” 

Finally getting to Charled, Lando practically ran into him, frantic in the way he spoke. “I couldn’t. He would have- I just didn’t think- I thought it would be okay.”

Sighing, Carlos allowed Max to lean past him and fire a few shots out of the doorway whilst he caught his breath. His expression softened somewhat. “It is okay, Landito. I understand. I’m sorry.”

As Lando got closer, it was clear that he was crying. Charles tentatively wrapped an arm around him. “Hey, it is okay. It doesn’t matter, we will get out of here.”

“No, it isn’t okay.” Lando whined, leaning the good side of his head against Charles’s shoulder. “He’s not okay.”

“What?”

“He’s not- his head-”

Charles didn’t need to hear anymore. It didn’t take a lot for him to infer what had gone on. It was a whole lot to process, and he had to push his thoughts to the back of his mind. He could be upset later. First, they had to get out of the bank. “What about the others? Seb? Daniel? Yuki and Pierre?”

Lando shook his head. “I don’t know, I think they were fighting, I couldn’t see. Something was wrong with Seb-”

“Okay. Enough.” Max, at the other end of the corridor called. “We cannot help them if we get shot too.”

Nodding, Lando pulled back from Charles, and wiped his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s go.”

“We will have to cover each other.” Max ducked against the wall, holding his gun to his chest as another barrage of fire came through the doorway. “Fuck.” 

Carlos nodded. “Cool.”

“You go first.” Gesturing with a nod of his head, Max frowned.

“Why?”

“I’m a much better shot.”

Max was apparently making it his mission to prove that. Leaning out the doorway, he fired three times, careful and calculated, allowing Carlos to run across the corridor, making it halfway along. They then swapped roles, Carlos firing from his position, and Max sprinting as fast as he could, tightly pinned to the wall as he did. Charles found himself holding his breath as he did, standing protectively infront of Lando just in case any fire came their way. Fortunately it didnt, the return fire seemingly calming, and allowing the quartet to join back together. It was suspicious, the lack of response. There had to be something more coming. 

“We need to run.” Explained Max as they caught up to them. “Lando, can you run?”

“Yeah. Yeah I think so.”

“Good. Stay inbetween us.”

Leading the way, Charles continued the journey to the vault. His finger was gently rested over the trigger of his pistol the entire time, expecting there to be someone waiting for them behind every corner. There was gunfire, and it was getting louder- he could only wonder and worry about what was happening to the rest of the squad. All he could do was hope that they found a way to catch up. Lando was hot on his heels, jumping every time a shot went off, despite Carlos’s comforting hand on his waist, guiding him the entire way. And Max, his Max, was protecting them all the entire time, practically running backwards as he kept them all safe. 

“They look like fucking kids!” The Dutch man shouted as they got around the corner. “I just saw one of them then, are they hiring twelve-year-olds now?”

“Does it matter?” Asked Carlos, sounding out of breath already.

“I don’t know! I feel bad trying to kill him”.

Lando shoved Charles, forcing him to keep moving. “Just keep him from killing us!”

It was a little further along that Charles got a view of the officers chasing them. They were almost at the vault, the metal door in sight, but the officers had made better progress. The long corridor leading to the vault allowed them to cover themselves at the far corner, and there was nowhere for any of their four to hide. Max was right. They did look young- which hopefully meant inexperienced, because that would work in their favour. It looked as if there was two of them, although Charles only got the briefest look over his shoulder at them. The first looked a teenager, blonde and well groomed. The second was even younger, dark curly hair with acne still across his cheeks. They both looked as if the body armour they wore was a costume, rather than the professional gear that it surely was. 

Despite their age, or lack thereof, they were putting up a good fight. Charles felt a bullet whiz past his head, ducking instinctively at the feeling. “Shit!” He jumped, jumping into the vault. “Come on, hurry up.”

He pulled Lando right in after him, directing him well into the room so he was out of sight. 

“Max, get in the vault!” Cried Charles, noticing that he was holding back for some reason. “What are you doing?”

“We need to close the door.” He explained, firing towards the pair at the far end of the corridor. “Or we don’t stand a chance.”

“Shit.” Charles groaned, knowing he was right. They needed to buy as much time as they could, and that involved locking themselves in. Scrambling forwards, he ran to help Max. Hands on the inside mechanism of the door, he pulled with all his body weight, his boyfriend next to him seemingly doing the same. Nothing budged. Even when Lando joined in, helping as he could, they made little progress, the door only sliding an inch. 

“This isn’t quick enough.” Max grunted, pulling harder again. 

Two shots were fired as Carlos covered them. “We need to pull it harder then, I can only hold them off for so long.”

“Fuck’s sake.” Before Charles could stop him, Max pushed past Carlos and jumped into the corridor, pushing on the other side of the door. It was dangerous and incredibly stupid.

“What are you doing!” Called Charles, trying to weave past the Spaniard who blocked him. “Get back into cover!”

“Keep fucking pulling, Charles.” His face was turning red from exertion. “Keep going.”

Taking a deep breath, Charles tried to keep himself thinking logically. They had to shut the door. Eyes still on Max, he pulled with all of his might. The metal burnt against his bare hands, surely going to leave blisters. But they made progress, Max pushing with his weight behind the door seemed to be what they needed to get it to move, the hinges screaming as it finally began to shut. 

“Get back in!” Shouted Carlos. “I can’t keep them at bay, the gap is too small.”

“Alright, alright-” The progress slowed as Max stopped pushing, and he could finally be seen again, manouvering himself sideways through the small gap they had left between the door and the wall. Charles took his attention away from him for just a second, eyes darting back to check that the entrance to the tunnel when a scream from Max drew his gaze right back again. “Fuck!” He shouted, and Charles turned his head just in time to watch his body tense up then fall down to the floor. 

“Max!” Letting go of the door, Charles ran to him. Max was still halfway through the door, but curled up on himself now, hiding his face.

“Shit? Is he okay?” Lando asked, also running forwards. 

“Pull him through, get him through the door.” Ordered Carlos, evidently taking charge. He hooked his arm under one of Max’s armpits.

Following suit, Charles did the same, yanking him back through the door and into the vault. Max screamed as they moved him, kicking with one of his legs. They managed to get him through to the floor, lying him down as gently as they could. 

“Shit! Fuck!” He groaned, hands gripping at the top of his right thigh. “Fuck!”

“Are you okay?” Asked Charles stupidly, because he could tell he wasn’t. He grabbed Max’s hands, gently moved them out the way, and inspected his leg. It wasn’t surprising to see the gunshot wound, but it made him feel instantly nauseous. On instinct, he grabbed one of the rags from the side and held it over the wound, pressing down as hard as he could.

Max grabbed at his wrist, all colour drained from his face.“No- Charles- the door, get the door.”  

“He’s right.” Carlos dragged him up to his feet as a bullet riccocheted off the corner of the door. “Come on.”

Charles kept his eyes on Max, who had his head rolled back and eyes tightly shut, but got up and retook his place by the door. Between the three of them, they brought it fully to a close, the door pulling into its hinges with a thud. Between Lando and himself, they twisted the wheel to lock the vault, as Carlos applied the bolts on the far side. Shutting the door brought a silence into the room, and the vault must have had significant sound-proofing because the gunfire outside was now barely audible. It made Max’s frantic breathing even more obvious. 

“Shit.” Charles ran back to him, placing his hands behind his head and holding him gently. “Max, look at me.”

After another couple of gasping breaths, Max pried his eyes open. “Fuck. I’m alright.”

“He’s bleeding a lot.” Standing above them, Lando’s eyes were wide open. Charles followed his gaze to the pool of blood that was forming under Max’s thigh. “How do we stop it?”

“Here.” Carlos threw what looked like some plastic-encased wires from the workbench they had set up, then turned back to the door, gun in hand as he stood above them protectively.  

Catching them, Lando knelt down at Max’s side, and hovered anxiously for a moment before pulling himself together. “Sorry Maxie.” He mumbled. “Think this one is going to hurt.”

Max looked up at Charles, and tried to pull himself up onto his elbows. “What are you doing- Lando- No-”

Lando tucked the wire under Max’s leg, and pulled it to the top of his thigh. The Dutch man groaned as he did, resting his head ontop of Charle’s shoulder. “I’m going to do one of those things to stop the bleeding- the turny thing-”

“Torniquet.” Added Charles quietly, although sure that nobody cared. He took Max’s hand into his own, and let him squeeze it as hard as he could. He only regretted that move a little bit when Max gripped him so hard he thought his fingers would break. 

He had to tune himself out of Max’s screams in order to stop himself from descending into panic. Eventually it was over, and Lando had created something that looked substantial enough to slow the bleeding. Max’s shouts subsided, and he returned to his heavy breathing as he had been previously, shaking a little in Charles’s arms. 

Watching Max cry brought a horrible realization to Charles. Something which hadn’t quite set in when they had shut the door, locking themselves in. There was no time to wait, not anymore. No one else was going to join them, not unless there was some miracle. Sebastian, who he had told himself he would wait for, wasn’t leaving with them. At least not in the way they had planned. His priority was Max. He had to get Max out of the bank and to a doctor. 

“We need to hurry up.” Carlos, expression stark, stated to the group. He had barely taken his attention off the door the whole time. “They’ll only blow this door down too.”

Max looked directly at Charles, to the door, then back to Charles again. “You will have to leave me.”

Charles’s heart skipped a beat, and words fell softly out of his mouth. “What?”

“I’ll only slow you down.” He grimaced, grasping at his leg again.

“No.” 

“Charles, it is better that they get me than all of us. I can’t risk losing you.”

“And what makes you think that you are so special? Why do I have to lose you instead?” He pulled back slightly from Max, trying to read his face.

“Charles-” 

“Max, don’t be a self sacrificial prick.” Lando said it better than he ever could have. “We’ll all get out of here. Come on.”

Fairly self sufficiently, Lando managed to open up the entrance to the tunnel, pulling the cover away and setting it to the side. It was still a little bit of a tight squeeze, but he and Max had opened the tunnel up a little more earlier in the day, and added in some makeshift foot holes. It was climbable. It would work. 

Whatever was happening on the other side of the vault door was escalating. Heavy sounds reverbarated through the metal, which stopped the four of them in their tracks. Nothing came through, but the sound was enough to spook them. Lando anxiously took the winch line into his hands. “I don’t know what the best way to get him down is, but maybe with this?”

Max looked unimpressed. Somehow, more colour had drained from his face. “No.”

“Baby, you need-”

“I will climb down like the rest of you.” At least his stubbornness was still intact. 

Still, as much as he wanted to get down self-sufficiently, it was easier said than done. It was almost impossible to get him onto his feet, requiring both Charles and Lando to lift him, and when he was he could only manage one step on his good leg before falling again. 

“Fuck.” He muttered, holding his head down between his legs.

“Max, you’re gonna pass out if we keep doing this.” 

Charles ran a hand through his hair. “Lando is right, Max. Let us help you.”

Grumpily, Max frowned up at Charles. “Fine. Don’t put the harness around my legs. Please.”

“Whatever you do, do it quickly.” Carlos had his gun in his hand, aimed towards the door. He didn’t look back at them. 

They came to a compromise of wrapping the harness around Max’s arms instead, something that in other circumstances would have been quite amusing, seeing him hanging by his broad shoulders. A lot more shuffling along the floor got Max to the edge of the tunnel, and he was able to drag his legs over with a groan. They decided it would be best for Lando to go first- he would be able to guide the Dutchman along and keep him safe once they had reached the bottom, and Charles needed to stay up at the top to operate the winch. 

Once Lando had stepped his lower half into the tunnel, he went to help Max, only to be stopped by the voice of the Spaniard at the other end of the vault. “Lando. Wait.”

“Yeah?” He replied, looking up from the strange position he was in. 

Carlos handed him the Dutch-man’s dropped firearm. “Take this. You won’t know what is waiting for you.”

Hesitantly, Lando took it. “Are you sure? Last time-”

“One hundred percent. I trust you.”

Lando tucked the gun into his waistband. “I’ll see you down there.” He smiled.

Carlos smiled back, leaning down and pressing a kiss onto his forehead. “I love you, Landito.”

Watching and waiting, Charles gave Lando some time to crawl into the tunnel, then slowly helped to lower Max down after him. He couldn’t help but stare at Carlos, there was something unreadable in his expression, the way he stared at where Lando had just disappeared. Before he could ask about it, the Spaniard turned away again, focussing back on the door like a guard dog. 

It took longer than it should have to get the pair to the bottom of the tunnel, even though it wasn’t all that far underground. If Charles went too quickly with the winch he was met with shouting from both men, and even when he took it slowly it was evident from the chatter between them that it was a struggle. The clanging sounds at the door only got louder, and then, suspiciously, stopped. 

“They will be getting reinforcements.” Carlos stated gravely. “Or worse.”

After what felt like a lifetime, Lando’s loud voice echoed up through the tunnel telling them that they had reached the bottom. Charles only took a moment of hesitation before grabbing a knife from the tool bench, and cutting through the rope they had used. They didn’t need to give any options for the police to use to chase them. 

“Come on, Carlos. Let’s go.” Charles called to the older man who remained in the vault. 

Carlos didn’t turn around. 

“What are you doing? You said we need to hurry.”

“We will never make it if we all go. Not with Max the way he is.” He looked over his shoulder at Charles, brown eyes watery but expression stoic. 

“For fucks sake, not you as well.”

“You know I am right. I will hold them off. For Lando. I got him into this mess, I will make sure he gets out of it.”

“Carlos-”

“Please, Charles. Go. For Lando. For me.” 

“Lando will kill you, you know that.” Charles stepped forwards to him. 

Carlos smiled. “I know. He will realise it is the right thing. Eventually.”

Charles pulled him into a hug, patting his back as he did. “Thank you.”

“Tell Lando I love him. And I will find him. Someday.”

“Stay safe, Carlos.”

The descent down the tunnel was agony. Leaving Carlos behind hurt, the Spaniard pulled the cover over the hole as he left, encasing him in darkness. And it wasn’t just Carlos he was leaving. Daniel. Yuki. Pierre. Sebastian. They were all still in the bank, and Charles had no way of knowing what had happened to them. Leaving Seb hurt like hell, the man was like a father to him, and even when they were running away from the main hall, he had still held a little hope in his heart that he would catch up with them. That he would somehow be there, in the vault, escaping with the rest of the group. Like they should have done. 

It had all gone wrong. It had all gone so wrong. But he had to push it to the back of his mind. They weren’t out of the woods yet. 

Getting to the bottom of the climb didn’t make things any better. There was a light shining upwards, which once he was close enough was visible as a torch being held by Lando, which he must have acquired from somewhere. The tunnel gave the Brit just about enough room to stand up straight. In contrast, the much taller Max was sitting on the floor, leant against the dirt wall. His eyes were shut, but his chest was visible rising and falling in the dark. 

Charles landed at the bottom with a small jump, delicately on the balls of his feet. His attention went first to Max, squatting down next to him. “Hey, Baby? Max?”

“I’m alright.” He slurred, looking back at Charles almost like he was drunk. 

“Come on.” Leaning down, he went to lift up at Max’s arm again, waiting for Lando to help on the other side. “Let’s go.”

“No.” Lando held the torch in his face, almost blinding him. “Carlos.”

“Lando-”

“Give him a second, mate, we’ve got to wait for him.”

Reaching out in the bright light, Charles placed his free hand on Lando’s shoulder. “Lando. He isn’t-”

Lando laughed awkwardly. “What?”

“Lando. Listen to me. He is not coming down. Not now.”

The torch light dropped, and Lando’s face was visible once again. “What?” He repeated. “What do you mean?”

Charles had to wonder if there was a way of putting it that wouldn’t break the young man’s heart. There probably wasn’t. “Lando.”

“No.” His lips shook, and the reflection of a single tear falling down his cheek could just be seen. “No. We need to wait for him. We’re going together. We’ve got plans.”

“If we wait for him, then we all get captured. Or worse.” Charles explained, trying his best to calm the man down, although knowing it was likely an impossible task. “He did this because he wants you to get out safely.”

“Please.” Another tear fell down his face. He wasn’t sobbing, just a quiet despair. “Please.”

“He said he will find you.” Charles added, hoping it would help. “Afterwards. He will find you again.”

Lando didn’t reply.

“And he says he loves you.”

“I know that.” Lando sniffed, and wiped his cheek. 

 A groan from Max took Charles’s attention again, the dutchman seemingly dropping in consciousness with his eyes shut again, not acknowledging any of the conversation. They were running out of time. They needed to move. 

“Lando. Please. We need to go.”

Lando sighed, tears still pooling down his face. He looked down at Max. “Okay.”

Between the two of them they managed to manouvere the much larger and heavier Max along the tunnel. The Dutch man was barely helping, eyes opening only periodically and barely even putting weight on his good leg. He would shout expletives at any harsh movement, something that Charles was keen to keep to a minimum given that they were likely being followed. Lando, on the contrary, was completely silent, and Charles didn’t even want to think about what was going on in his head. 

The tunnel continued for some distance, much further than Max could have possibly built by himself, even with all his ridiculous machinery. Once they had got the hang of it they were able to move in relative silence, with the occasional mumble from Max, until light was finally visible. 

“Is that the end of the tunnel?” Asked Charles. He didn’t know why he was asking. Max wasn’t listening, and Lando would neither know nor care. Still he continued pulling them in that direction, getting closer to the light. 

It wasn’t daylight he was looking at. It was something entirely different. Two bright headlights. A car. 

“Hey!” Came a call, a Scandinavian sounding voice. The way the headlights were made it so that Charles didn’t even stand a chance of working out where the voice was coming from. “Stop there, stand down!”

It would be just their luck if this was the police waiting for them, after all they had been through. He had very little left in him to fight if it was. Not with Max as he was. Not with Lando completely despondent. If this was the police, this was it. 

“Turn the lights down Kevin, you’re scaring them.” Came another voice, a large silhouette coming into view infront of the car, heading their way. He only got bigger and more imposing the closer he got, but this illusion was completely broken once he was in the light of the torch. A blond man, with gravity defying hair and a smile that could only be described as goofy. “Charles Leclec?”

“Yes.” Charles answered, looking directly at the man. “How do you know?”

“Seb sent me pictures of you all. The plan was for us to pick you all up. Seems like everything’s gone to shit.” 

“That’s one way of putting it.” Charles grimaced. The man did not seem as bothered as he should, but at least he wasn’t an officer. 

“Who are you?” He asked, looking at Lando. “Are you coming with us?”

Lando, who was no longer crying, nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Sure.” The blond man grinned, then his expression darkened. “And this is it, yeah? You three? No one else got out?”

The Monogasque shook his head. There was nothing to be said about it. Nothing more he wanted to think about. 

“Nico, darling?” Came a call from the other man, Kevin, presumably. “As much as I like a police chase, we need to hurry the fuck up.”

The blond man, Nico, laughed. “Sorry. My husband, Kevin. Don’t worry. He’s all bark no bite. Most of the time. I’m Nico, or Hulk, if you’re picky.”

Charles didn’t care. As long as they were going to get them out. “Can we just get going please. He needs a hospital.”

“Of course. Here, let me help.” Stepping further forwards, Nico took over from Lando, taking most of the brunt of Max’s weight. Max grumbled something inentelligable, but seemed comfortable enough. “His leg is bound, yeah? Not bleeding out?”

“Yeah. I did a tourniquet.” Lando spoke, completely emotionless as he followed behind them. 

“Good work, kid. You’ve probably saved him there.”

Lando barely reacted. “Thanks.”

It was much easier walking with Nico’s help, and they made good progress towards the car. It was a non-discript white van, with headlights now dimmed slightly. Leaning against the bonnet of the van was a much smaller but equally as blonde man. He nodded slightly as they got close enough, but said very little. 

“We will have to put you all in the back of the van.” Continued Nico as they limped around the van. “It’s insulated for sound and heat, they shouldn’t be able to track you. It won’t be comfortable, sorry.” 

He pulled the double doors of the van open, revealing the work that had been done. It must have been this pair that had continued the rest of the tunnel, as the van was mainly filled with their re-made metal objects, the gold that they had melted down to be untraceable. The boxes were packed neatly and non-discriptly, it was a perfect disguise. It looked like a normal work van, and Nico and Kevin looked like a normal set of workmen. Sebastian, even in his absence, was a genius. 

There was a small pathway through the boxes. Nico got into the van and single handedly pulled Max up, with Charles and Lando following shortly after. He laid the Dutch man down in the far corner, flat on his back with his leg raised up onto one of the smaller crates. The other two squeezed in next to him. 

“I’ll get you some blankets.” Called Kevin from outside the van. “And some pain killers.”

“Thank you.” Manouvering Max’s head into his lap, Charles called quietly. He gently stroked through his hair, staring into the darkness. 

“If you need us to stop, just press this button.” Nico handed Charles a small red box. “We’ll check on you as soon as it is safe. The first doctor we can get you to is about an hour away, but he’s safe. After that we’ll leave the country as soon as we can.”

Leaving the country. Leaving everything behind. Abandoning the rest of their team. It felt awful. But a little part of him was joyful. If they could get past this bit, they would be free. No more bank heist. Unlimited money. Him, Max, as much time together as they wanted. Never having to commit another crime again. They were leaving the bank. They were setting off into something new

“Charles?” Max opened his eyes a little while after they had set off. Lando has fallen asleep, or was silently ignoring them. It was difficult to tell. The Dutchman still had his head on Charles’s lap, but the pain killers seemed to have helped him, because every sudden turn and the constant harsh braking had stopped causing him to wince. He looked around in the darkness, seemingly confused, then locked eyes with Charles. “Where are we?”

“We’re getting out.” He smiled, pressing a kiss down on his head. “We’re starting our life together.”

Chapter Text

Pierre heard the explosion more than he saw it. He definitely felt it. A great wave that seemed to shake the whole bank, cracking the door that he had just closed. He took a second to work out what was going on, to look around and see what was broken, to try and piece together where the bang had come from. He couldn’t work it out. 

One moment earlier there had been shouting through the earpiece, and he and Yuku had left their tasks behind to go and investigate, and had just gotten to the top of the staircase, peered through the door to see Sebastian involved in some commotion with George, decided that it was not worth their time to intervene, and promptly shut the door. Then, bang. The world exploded. 

Pierre looked across at Yuki first, once he had orientated himself. The younger Japanese man had been thrown backwards a little further from the blast, but remained on his feet. “What?” He asked accusationally. “Why are you looking at me?”

“It’s a big explosion! Where do they normally come from?”

“This one was not me.” He blabbered, hands on his hips defiantly. 

Pierre huffed. “Well who was it then?” 

“How am I meant to know?” Yuki’s argument was interrupted by a gunshot and a shout from the otherside of the door. “Oh. Police.”

“Shit. Fuck. Already? What the fuck did they do in there?” Grabbing Yuki, Pierre started to slowly tiptoe closer to the door. “We need to get out of here.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Let’s get going then!”

Hesitantly, he pushed the door forwards, just an inch. Gun in hand, he peered out through the gap he saw, and was not a fan of what he could see. Seb was still at the top of the stairs, facing away from them into the hallway. He was on his knees, staring down, and didn’t react at all to anything that was happening. More worryingly, there was what looked like an entire SWAT team filtering into the bank through the now defunct front door. More than Pierre would be able to deal with.

“Seb. Sebastian!” He hissed, trying to get a response. Seb didn’t turn around. “Shit.”

“We’re not getting through that way. No chance.” Yuki was peering through the gap in the door too, just underneath where Pierre was standing. 

Realistically, if they were going to stand a chance of getting out, they would need to get to the vault. He hadn’t really listened to much of what Max had explained to them about what he was doing, but he had caught enough to know that the vault was going to be their way out. That was step one, at least. Once they got there they could figure out the next step. But that was easier said than done, like Yuki had said, the quickest way to get there was through the main hall, and there was no chance of that the way things were. Not even the best in the world could manage that. 

“Right. No.” Pierre pulled the door shut before they were noticed. “Maybe if we go round the back stairs, if we are quiet.”

Yuki looked up at him, wide-eyed and anxious. “Yeah. Yeah it’s the only way.”

“Come on. We’ll be alright. Let’s go.” Pulling Yuki he started to head down the other way. 

For a moment, Yuki hesitated. “We’ll stay together, right?”

“What?”

“Like, we’re not gonna split up and go separate ways?” 

“Of course not.” He ruffled at Yuki’s hair. “We’ll stick together, no matter what. As long as you can keep up.”

Yuki frowned. “Of course I can fucking keep up.”

“Prove it then.” Pierre laughed anxiously, and started to jog away from the main hall. 

The route was a long one. It took them past the offices on the second floor, weaving through the corridors that somehow remained quiet. Gunfire was audible, and Pierre had to assume that there was a fight going on somewhere else in the bank. Whoever it was, he was thankful. It was giving them time. Giving them a chance to get out. They kept up a good pace, staying away from the boarded up windows and any of the walls Yuki deemed to be unstable enough. They had to remember that any weapons they had, the police had twice as many. 

They only stopped twice. Firstly at where Pierre had stashed his weapons. He wanted to pick up a better gun, something that would cause a little more damage than just his pistol. And he needed amunition, a lot of it. Yuki waited impatiently whilst he filled up his arsenal, guarding his back loyally, but pushing him to go faster the entire time. 

The second time they stopped was at the door for the main office. It wasn’t a proper stop, more of a slow to a shuffling pace, but Pierre felt a sense of unease regardless. They both knew what was still behind that door. 

“Do you want to go in?” Asked Yuki, who must have noticed the look on his face. 

Pierre shook his head, looking down at his battered knuckles for a brief moment. “No. I don’t think so.”

“There’s nothing we could do about it anyway.”

“No, you are right. Come on.”

It was mainly straight corridors that took them through to the other side of the bank, where they knew the small staircase was. Yuki led the rest of the way there. Pierre barely looked back. They got to the top of the staircase quicker than expected, spotting the banister curling into view as they reached the final few steps of the corridor.

“Stop.” Yuki held out an arm, stopping Pierre in his tracks. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Quiet.”

“What?” Pierre whispered back. 

“I can hear something.” He dragged Pierre to the side so they were pressed against the wall, out of immediate view from anyone coming up the stairs. 

Yuki was right. There was someone coming up the stairs. Probably more than one person, judging by the mess of slow footsteps. It sounded like whoever it was was trying to be quiet, but not doing a great job, the footsteps overshadowed by a whispering. This eased his anxiety. Whoever it was, they couldn’t be professionals. Or if they were, they were almost certainly rubbish enough at their jobs that Pierre and Yuki could deal with them independently.

Checking his gun was loaded, Pierre edged himself along the wall so he was close enough to peer down the stairs without being seen. He could feel the air move next to him, and he knew that Yuki was there, keeping him safe, even though he couldn’t see exactly what he was doing. 

The top of someone's head was visible coming up the stairs. Blond, and for a moment Pierre didn’t recognise who it belonged to. And then he did. 

“Valtteri?” He asked, far too loud which he knew because Yuki promptly elbowed him in the side. 

“Hello.” The Finn smiled up at him, seemingly unbothered by the entire event. “Please do not point the gun at me. I do not think you have any control over us.”

“What?” Was he staging a coup? It wouldn’t be surprising, but there was a time and place.

“You heard me.” He stared up, and Pierre slowly lowered his gun. “Good. Come on Zhou. All is safe up here.”

“Hey- hey- wait a second. Where are you two going? Where are all of you going?” He added, once he saw the rest of the hostages following. Well, almost all of the rest of the hostages. It didn’t take a detective to work out who Lando was with. 

Yuki also stepped forwards, stopping the group from getting any further up the stairs, a look of confusion plastered upon his face. 

“Guys, it’s alright.” Came a more familiar voice. “They’re with me. They’ve not gone rogue.”

“Daniel, what the fuck?”

“Why are you bringing them up here?” Asked Yuki, allowing the Australian to make his way through the small crowd.

Daniel laughed. “Mate. Have you seen what’s happening in the foyer? Shit’s fucked.”

“Mate.” Pierre argued back. “There’s no way out if you come this way.”

His face fell, the usual smile disappearing. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

Easing off, Pierre allowed them to filter past so the whole group was standing on the landing. Valtteri and Zhou seemed to be aiming to keep moving, to keep going through the corridor, but did stop when they realised the rest of the group weren’t following. Checo, Lance and Oscar were quieter, but seemingly for different reasons. Checo seemed anxious, eyes constantly darting around, shoulders up like he was going to be attacked. Lance looked sad, eyes down at the floor, following but barely mentally looked barely present. And Oscar. Oscar was always difficult to read. But there was a hint of something, a hint of anger. 

This was only confirmed when he opened his mouth, and spoke directly to Pierre. “Are you going to help Lando?”

“What?” He scoffed, confused. “What has happened?”

“He’s caught in the crossfire that your friend has caused. Daniel can’t get through to him on your intercom thing.”

“My friend?” Presumably he meant Carlos, which was interesting because Pierre wouldn’t consider them close friends. He only had one true friend in the place. Yuki. Maybe Charles at a push, but Yuki took first place. Still, it was worth a try, at least to try and work out what was going on with the rest of the heist crew. Maybe it would help them get to the vault. Except he didn’t have his earpiece. So how would he even help. “Maybe Yuki could-”

Daniel pushed through, and patted Yuki on the shoulder. “Don’t try it kid, not if you value your hearing. They’ve jammed our signals.”

Yuki, who already has his finger at his ear, slowly lowered his hand. “Oh.”

Frowning, Oscar stared directly at Pierre, his gaze almost painful. He said nothing. 

“Look, Oscar. I know this is not ideal with Lando-”

“Not ideal?” He laughed sarcastically. “You think this is not ideal?”

“Hey.” Yuki stood infront of Pierre. “Stop it. What is he supposed to do about it?

“He is right.” Thankfully, Valtteri intervened, pulling Oscar backwards into what was almost a hug. “We will have to hope that the police will get to Lando. There is nothing we can do to help him right now.”

“But-”

“Come on, he would want you to be safe too.”

In the background, more gunshots could be heard echoing through the bank. They sounded further away, but more frequent. Things were getting worse elsewhere. Hopefully everybody was okay, Pierre thought. And, rather selfishly, he hoped that they were waiting for them at the exit. There was still time to get to the vault.

“Guys, we need to keep moving.” Daniel spoke to the group. “They’ll be in the corridor soon. You two should come with us too.” 

“Where are you going to go?” Asked Yuki.

Daniel shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I’m going to get them all somewhere safe. A room where we can wait for this all to calm down.”

“But you won’t-”

“I know.” The Australian smiled. “But my role here was to keep the hostages safe. And I’m going to do my job until the end.”

“Oh.”

“Daniel, you can’t just give up.” Argued Pierre.

“I’m not giving up.” He explained. “I’m doing what is right.”

Pierre nodded. It was commendable. Looking at Yuki, he tried to work out his reaction. Personally, he wanted to keep going, but he wanted to do what Yuki wanted. If Yuki wanted to stay with Daniel and the hostages, then Pierre would stay too.

Drawing Daniel into a hug, Yuki looked uncharacteristically solemn. “I get it. Will we see you again?”

“I hope so. What are you two going to do?”

Yuki looked up at Pierre, and raised his eyebrows. He wanted to keep going. 

“We are going to get out of here.” Pierre answered after a pause. They were at least going to try. 

It hurt to leave them behind, but it had to be done. They had already lost enough time. They lost sight of the group as they trailed down the stairs, taking each step slowly as to keep the sound at a minimum. Not that they needed to. The noise from the other side of the bank was surely obscuring any sound they made. 

Yuki kept right behind him, all the way to the bottom of the stairs. The corridor at the bottom remained quiet, no officer having gotten that far yet. Maybe they were all distracted at the vault. Maybe they knew that was how they planned to escape. 

Briefly they tried the door to the main hall. They didn’t go through, that would be far too dangerous, but they pressed their ears to the door. There were conversations happening, many of them, and the voices were not recognisable. Unsurprisingly it wasn’t a way for them to get through. 

So they kept going. Past the toilets. Past the kitchen. Through the back corridors in a way which took far too much time but was the only way they could think of that would even stand a chance. 

Until they reached a dead end. They turned again, going back on themselves, trying a riskier route. The brief sight of officers just around the corner sent them back once again. They didn’t stand a chance. Not when there were only two of them. 

“Pierre.” Yuki grabbed him once they had been turned around for a third time. “I don’t think we can get through.”

Pierre took a deep breath. He couldn’t think of another way. “No. Not like this.”

“What do we do?”
“I don’t know.”

Gunfire erupted from behind them, louder now. 

“Come on, keep running.” He grabbed Yuki’s hand, and started to sprint, no longer caring about how loud they were. They had to get far enough away, and give themselves time.

“Where are we going to go?” Asked Yuki, gripping him tighter. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know! I’m just running!”

“We’re not giving up, are we?”

“Are you giving up?”

“No!” Yuki almost shouted. “No. Not without a fight.”

It became more aparant that they had been spotted. Pierre heard a call of his own surname, telling him to stop, and although the gunfire stopped there was footfall in the corridor behind them. They picked up the pace, as there was no doubt they were being followed. Like rats trapped in a maze, they could only keep running.

“I have an idea.” Stated Yuki after turning a few more corridors, getting back now so they were almost back near the main hall. “I think. It’s the only thing I can think of that might work.”

“What is it?” Pierre was slightly out of breath as he replied. Whatever it was, he had no idea what to do, so he could only trust Yuki. He would trust Yuki regardless. 

“You know those explosives we set up earlier?”

“Yeah?”

Yuki slowed, and looked up at him. “They should bring the wall down.”

“And then we could make a run for it.”

The young Japanese man shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. At least it might distract them so we can get out. Or maybe they will be waiting for us with guns.”

Pierre took a moment to consider their options. “If they are, then at least we will go out together.”

“Yeah.” Yuki smiled. “Let’s do it together.”

There was no turning back. Not now they were being followed. Once the decision had been made, Yuki took charge, running at speed Pierre had never seen towards the back of the bank. To the wall that they had rigged with explosives only hours earlier. 

Yuki got to work as soon as they got there. Pulling wires from the wall and connecting them together frantically. Having very little expertise in the area, Pierre took it on himself to guard the space behind him. It wasn’t an easy task, it being an open corridor with three different entrances for him to keep an eye on. “Yuki, mate, have you got much more to do?”

“Just give me a second!” He shouted, running from side to side along the wall. 

There were shouts getting closer, orders being yelled. 

“I don’t think we have a second!” Pierre called back again, looking over his shoulder briefly to his friend.

“Okay. Okay. I’m almost done, almost!”

The officers were getting louder, getting closer. “Whatever you’ve got, it will have to do!”

“Fine, come on.” Yuki dropped whatever he was holding, and dragged Pierre forwards. 

Letting himself be pulled, Pierre stood side-by-side with his friend, their hips almost touching. Yuki had a small plastic box in his hand, and was flicking through switches on it. Quickly, but with precision. 

“Are we too close to the wall?” The Frenchman asked, pulling his gun forwards in-front of him. 

Yuki shrugged, not looking up. “Not sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“You wanted to go quickly!”

Pierre took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Let’s do this. Okay.” His fingers tightened on his weapon, finger dancing over the trigger so he was ready. 

“Yeah.” Yuki replied, letting go of the box with his left hand and using it to briefly grab Pierre’s wrist. “We are going to stay together right, no matter what is out there?”

Pierre nodded. “No matter what.”

His eyes were on the wall, the intricate wallpaper and expensive-looking pillars that decorated it now covered in wires and duct-tape wrapped packages. There was no way of knowing what was on the other side. There was no way of knowing whether they would even be able to get out once the wall was down- although Yuki had insisted he knew which walls were load bearing. His hands shook a little as he held his gun, despite the steady hand that he had always prided himself on. At least Yuki was by his side. 

The shout of men coming round the corner was all Yuki needed to hit the detonator. The wall crumbled instantly, dust filling the room and obscuring the view for a moment. It was a controlled explosion, and despite his close proximity, Pierre wasn’t as discombobulated as he had expected to be, the ringing in his ears only slight. He waited for the dust to settle, waited for the noise to die down, heart thumping in his ears. 

The first thing he heard made his stomach drop. A sound he knew all too well. The distinctive click of a gun being cocked. Coming from behind him, far too close to the back of his head. Then more, movement of the air, sound of breathing, all behind them, but he didn’t want to risk turning his head. Not if it would set them off. Because they were surely aiming at Yuki too. 

Slowly he raised both arms, trying not to move a muscle. 

Things only got worse for Pierre. Because there wasn’t free air on the other side of the wall. Outside the bank was not a getaway car waiting for them. It was officers, too many of them to count, all armed to the nines and aiming at him and Yuki. With his arms still raised Pierre let his fun drop, clattering to the ground. 

It was then that he saw him. Armed like the rest of the officers, although not holding a weapon, with one arm held in a sling. Esteban. Of course it was Esteban. 

“Bonjour, Pierre. Long time no see, no?” He smiled, shit eating grin plastered across his face. 

“Fuck off.” Muttered Pierre, barely loud enough for anyone but Yuki to hear. The Japanese man, despite everything, giggled nervously at the comment. 

“Come on, Gasly. It’s over. Where are the rest of your crew?”

The rest of the crew. So someone must have gotten out. Or at least still have a chance. It filled him with a little bit of hope. “I don’t know. And like I would fucking tell you if I did.”

Naturally, that wasn’t the response that Esteban was looking for. Pierre found himself being pushed to the ground, knees hitting the floor painfully as his hands were pulled behind his back and handcuffed. He was patted down roughly, as all his various concealed weapons were taken from him. Next to him Yuki was receiving a similar fate, although putting up a little more of a fight, speaking aggressively to the officers handling him. 

But someone had gotten out. Even if they hadn’t managed it, somebody had evaded the police. And regardless, even whilst being arrested he had Yuki by his side. It wasn’t all over yet. It couldn’t be. Sebastian had to have something up his sleeve, someone was going to come and rescue them. It wasn’t over. 

They were taken outside, three officers surrounding him each with a hand gripping him tightly. Esteban disappeared from view, evidently having said all he wanted to. Pierre hoped the smug bastard was happy. At some point Yuki gave up fighting, following quietly with the officers, head held down low. Pierre didn’t know what to do. He kept his eyes on his friend. Made sure he was safe. That was the least he could do. 

It was louder outside than he had expected. Lots of people. Police officers. Ambulances lined up down the road. And crowds- journalists, and members of the public, penned off beind a barrier. A barrier that they were soon pulled through, towards the road. The officers tried their best to keep him from the hands of the crowds, but it was an impossible job. Pierre did all he could do to keep his face hidden, but was unable to avoid the flashes of cameras and people attempting to question him. 

He was pulled into the back of a police van, Yuki taken to a separate one, with the crowds that had started to build up around the bank starting to obscure him. “Yuki!” He called out, trying to stand on the tips of his toes to see. “Hey! Yuki! You can’t take us to separate places! What are you doing?” He pleaded with the officers holding him, but they didn’t respond. He was only pulled further away. “Yuki!”

With hands behind his back, he tried to call out to Yuki one last time, before being forcefully shoved back into the van. Alone, uncomfortable, and failed. Arrested again, this time likely with a much less avoidable sentence. Reality hit him once the doors were shut and the light faded out. That was it. That was the end of it all. 

Chapter Text

Lewis’s finger hovered over the detonator for just a moment after the explosion had happened. He knew it was the right thing to do. He knew it needed to be done. There was an officer in the bank who was in extreme danger. He would have done the same regardless of the circumstances, and had done before. Previous operations had been exactly the same. It was a balance of risk, and now it was more risky to wait for Sebastian’s team to try and escape than to simply go in there and pull them out themselves. 

This time felt different though. This one felt like his fault. He could barely look Alex in the eye.

Maybe they were wrong. Maybe this had all been a big misunderstanding. But it didn’t feel like it. He had been thinking about it on the drive over. Going through things with Nico again and again. Thinking of everything he had missed. The things that he hadn’t even realised were wrong, that he had been blinded by. He should have considered it, the questions that Nico asked, his insistence to get involved with the case and meet the team, the speed at which he moved their relationship along. Their history alone should have been a red flag for the fact something was wrong. Lewis felt like an idiot. 

He couldn’t allow himself to linger on it. He pushed it to the back of his mind, and concentrated on the heist. They had a job to do. He could get to Nico later.

The doors were open. He had to stop thinking about Nico. He had to do his job. If he didn’t take charge then everyone was in danger. He had to yell an order or lead the way into the bank, he had to do something. He couldn’t just stand there, watching, worrying. 

“Sir?” Came an uncertain voice from beside him. Logan. “We should follow him.”

“Follow him? What-” Lewis refocussed himself. Alex. Where was Alex? He had been right at his side only moments ago. “Shit.”

He turned around and looked to the rest of his officers. Only briefly. He took in their faces. They were waiting, expectant and anxious. Waiting for him. 

“Okay.” He spoke quietly, then repeated himself louder. “Okay. We file in. Follow my lead.”

Throwing the detonator to the floor, Lewis pulled his pistol out again and took a deep breath before ducking through the door. The view was still more obscured than he would have liked, a fog of dust caused by the explosion. Ideally he would have wanted a second for it to clear, especially given that there could be hostages in the room, but Alex had ruined that plan for them. It’s not like Lewis could blame him. 

He pulled his face mask up over his mouth and nose, and held himself low whilst he got through the obstruction. His shoulders almost hit against what was left of the door, just managing to manovere around to keep things smooth. Initially he directed the men following him with a hand, but once they were in he gave up. They wouldn’t be able to see him anyway. He just had to hope the fog would clear quickly enough that they could avoid hurting each other accidentally. Ears listening out for any movement, Lewis was keenly aware of Logan and Franco right behind him, but couldn’t hear much else. 

He kept pushing through. There was no turning back. 

They were in the bank. His feet were on the marble floor, the nice shoes that Nico had helped him pick out for the restaurant almost slipping on the marble. Was he lying when he had said he liked the shoes? Had it just been yet another trick? They were impractical, and he could have known- Lewis stopped his thoughts. He couldn’t wallow on it. Not yet. Not at that moment.

Eerily, the room was almost silent. There was a pattering of footsteps in the distance, like someone was trying to not be heard, and the faint sound of heavy breathing just ahead of him. Alex had disappeared from sight, disturbingly so. Even as the fog began to clear, he wasn’t immediately in view. 

But somebody else was. 

Right at the top of the staircase. A face Lewis had not seen in person in a very, very long time. On his knees, hands dropped at his side as he stared straight forwards, long hair sticking to his forehead. The suit he wore was discheveled, like he had been wearing it for many months and not just for the few days that he had. The look on his face would be best described as despair. And although Lewis was yet to work out what exactly had happened, he felt his heart sink even further, if that was possible. 

He was saying something in German, under his breath, that Lewis couldn’t hear. Not like he picked up much German from Nico anyway. 

“Sebastian.” There was no need to shout. Lewis raised his gun up, just to be safe, but he sensed that there wasn’t a need. 

The German stopped talking, met eyes with Lewis, just briefly. He stared, like he couldn’t believe who he was seeing. Lewis looked right back at him, unblinking. It was almost surreal, seeing him standing there, in the flesh. There was no weapon raised back at him. It didn’t even look like Seb had a gun in his hand.

Then Sebastian’s eyes dropped down, and looked at whatever was between them. Lewis followed him, the fog finally cleared enough to see the floor infront of him. It was clear enough to finally see Alex, hunched over something, ignoring everything around him. 

Shuffling on his feet, Lewis got a little closer. He knew he had to be careful. This could be a trap. Another trap. Alex may have thrown caution to the wind, and had his reasons, but Lewis had more than himself to consider, and he had to keep alert, keep aware to keep his team safe. But, as he got closer, nothing happened. Sebastian didn’t move. He didn’t say a word. 

“Alex. Hey, man-” He started to speak when he was just behind the Thai man, and then quickly noticed why he was not responding, eyes locking on the form in his lap. “Shit.”

Experience had taught him that there were some things even medics couldn’t fix. 

Alex was wailing. It was a sound that Lewis would never forget. A sound that he couldn’t have even imagined coming from the man. He coudn’t get any closer, his feet not allowing him to interrupt. Not wanting to make things any worse. And a little part of him had to wonder. Was this his fault?

A gunshot pulled him back into the present. Instinctively he jumped infront of Alex to try and protect him, but there was no need. His head whipped around just in time to see where it was coming from- one of the doors at the far side of the hall- and it was hard to miss Sainz firing off another three shots allowing Lando to run behind him safely. Noise erupted from that side of the hall, shouting from both sides, as without needing instruction both Logan and Franco jumped into action. 

He had to be a little proud of them. He hadn’t really trained either of them, but they had come a long way. Maybe Logan hadn’t realised how he had thrived in the action, but Lewis could tell that something in him had changed. That wasn’t the same scared boy who had introduced himself on the first day. “On it!” The American called, as the two of them took cover behind a set of pillars. 

“Don’t let them take the hostages.” Lewis called as an order, because he felt like he should at least keep the illusion that he was in charge going. “And keep yourselves safe, that's the priority.”

“Got it!

There were other problems for Lewis to deal with. Problems that needed more senior input. Covered by his team, he stepped past Alex, not needing to draw any more attention to the man. It wasn’t safe to try and move him until the building was secure. Not in the state he was in. 

And something was obviously wrong with Sebastian. He was acting in a way Lewis had never experienced before, and he had known the man for a long time. He knew he was clever, and that this could all be a part of his plan. But that didn’t feel right. It felt like something was really wrong. 

There was only so long he could leave Sebastian be. He stopped paying attention to the action around him, and worked his way towards his real target.

Step by step, he made his way up to the German man. Each time his foot hits the ground he waited for something to happen. A bullet to fly his way. The stairs to collapse beneath his feet. Sebastian to say something. Nothing came. 

He was almost at the top. In touching distance of Sebastian. 

There was no movement. There was nothing. Nothing behind his eyes.

Perhaps Lewis was jealous. He wasn’t hiding anything that was running through his mind. 

It would have been easy enough to piece together what was happening. What Sebastian had done to take him into this state. As he got closer he could see the redness in his eyes, the heaviness of the bags under his eyes. The way he had aged, like this had all taken such a toll on him. 

“Hey. Seb.” He said sincerely. “What’s wrong?”

The German was still on his knees. Instinctively Lewis scanned for a weapon, spotting a discarded pistol on the floor beside him. He kicked it out of reach with his foot. The gun balanced on the edge of a step for just a moment before tumbling down the staircase. 

“Sebastian. It’s okay.”

Maybe it was naive. Lewis couldn’t see him as an enemy. After all that had happened. Sebastian looked vulnerable. Like he needed saving. He was only human, after all. They all were.

For the first time in a long time, Sebastian spoke to him in person. “No. It’s not.”

It was like the fog was back in the room again, and it was just the two of them. Because Sebastian was right. It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Something overcame him, and he pulled Sebastian into his chest and hugged him tightly. The German was crying, he could feel the slight wetness of tears in his shirt collar, but he said nothing further. He shook in Lewis’s arms, and he squeezed him a little tighter. It was as if he had given up. 

Lewis could feel the tears coming down his own face. Maybe he was giving up too. 

He stayed with Seb in his arms, rocking from side to side gently as they cried together. His mind was numb, yet he couldn’t stop thinking. He couldn’t stop feeling. This was on him. He could have stopped this all sooner. He should have noticed that he was being tricked. But he didn’t. They had both failed. 

He took Sebastian outside himself. They didn’t take him immediately to the station, on Lewis’s orders. He didn’t need to get caught up with the media and crowds, not in the state he was in. There was a small interview room set up in the tent, Lewis took him there personally and sat him down on the small plastic chair. Gave him a cup of water. He got nothing else out of him. 

They waited for a little while. Just to see if Sebastian would say anything. To see if there was anything he wanted to say to Sebastian. No conversation was exchanged. The German stared down at the table. He didn’t drink the water. Wordlessly, Lewis let him be. He shut the door behind him and didn’t look back. 

Afterwards he had to go back into the bank. He didn’t want to. He felt sick. But he knew he had to. The gunfire had calmed down, but things were far from silent. A group of officers walked past him with a handcuffed Carlos strung between them, crying wordlessly as he was dragged away. Daniel Ricciardo, in a similar state but much more compliant, also walked past into one of the vans they had lined up outside. He gave Lewis a smile. It felt friendly. And undeserved. Lewis looked down as he walked past, didn’t meet the eyes of anybody else.People would pat his back as they came past. They were congratulating him. Another plan well executed. Another problem solved. Lewis had never felt like such a failure. 

The fighting had all but finished, although the bank was still being scoured. Normally he would go through and check out each room himself, so that was what he started to do. The building was in disarray, he noted as he slowly made his way through, checking in with each officer who was securing each room. A chunk of the wall was missing, seemingly exploded from the inside out, and Lewis could only force a smile to the triumphant appearing Esteban who was directing the addition of yellow tape around the damage. 

The room which Sebastian must have been using as his base was mostly untouched, and Lewis only had to crack the door open a touch to know he didn’t want to look any further. What was once a fine office was red stained, a form lying under a sheet, unmoving. The smell was unmistakable. Gasoline and death. Lewis shut the door quietly, and let his forehead lean against the wood of the door. How much had they all lost? 

The whole bank smelt of smoke, clinging to the antique wall paper and expensive furniture. The vault was no exception. It was there that Lewis found Logan, the American staring into the vault with a distant look on his face. Franco was with him too, sat on the floor against the wall, playing with his gun like he was waiting for it. 

“Logan. What’s up?” Asked Lewis when he was close enough, his voice coming out quieter than he was used to. 

As he was too able to see inside the vault, he looked it up and down. There was a lot of blood on the floor, enough that someone was surely gravely injured. Connecting that and the obsence number of bullet holes in the surrounding walls painted a picture of a long battle. 

“They got away.” Logan replied after a pause.

“Okay.” It took a moment for his mind to catch up. “Sorry- who?”

“Leclerc and Verstappen, we think.”

“We got Carlos.” Fraco piped up from behind them. “He put up a hell of a fight, it was crazy. Then by the time we got this door open, it was just him. It’s like they just disappeared into thin air.”

“Right. Right. We need to search the whole-”

“Yeah. We’re on it.” Emotionless, Logan nodded, making no eye contact with Lewis. “Another thing-”

“What?”

“We think they took Lando with them.” Fraco was the one to explain it after Logan took a while to reply. Lewis’s head spun round with such speed that it hurt his neck. “The little hostage. We think he went with them. He was running with them-”

Another failure. Lewis hadn’t realised it was possible for him to feel more nauseous than he already did. Even if Lando had gone willingly, which he had a sneaking suspicion that he may have done, this didn’t look good. He hadn’t even saved all the hostages. Lewis pinched the bridge of his nose and leant forwards. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“You boys are alright though?” He changed the subject. He needed at least one success. “Neither of you got hurt?”

“We’re fine.” Finally, Logan turned to look at him. “It’s Alex I’m worried about. He’s still there.”

Poor Alex. Part of Lewis didn’t want to go to him. Didn’t want to speak to him and ask for forgiveness that he didn’t deserve. But it was another thing he knew he had to do. He had to at least try and make things better. “I’ll go speak with him.”

Although Logan followed him back into the main hall, they didn’t make any conversation. Lewis didn’t push it. He had nothing to say regardless. He didn’t even ask Logan to come with him, but in hindsight it was probably for the best. He didn’t imagine that Alex was going to be very receptive to him alone. 

The Thai man was sitting on the floor when they got to him, George in his arms, unmoving. Alex didn’t notice them approaching, didn’t react to them at all. 

Logan spoke first, voice delicate. “Hey, Alex.”

He didn’t respond. 

Kneeling down next to him, Lewis got in direct eyeline. “Alex.”

Alex’s eyes snapped up, full of tears with almost a crazed look to them. “Lewis. We need a medic. Help me get him up.”

It hadm’t clicked for him yet. Lewis was hit with a sudden pain, and had to hold back a scream. Alex was still so full of hope. That this could be fixed. He hadn’t worked out what was happening yet. Or if he had, he wasn’t believing it. 

It took all Lewis’s composure not to turn away. He tried to argue things gently, to get Alex to come away. Alex was going to need to leave him eventually. It was a crime scene, afterall. But there was no chance that he was ever going to convince him to let go. Logan joined in the conversation as well, and tried to offer him a hand. He didn’t take it. Why would he? 

After being pushed away once more, Lewis sighed and stood back. He was only going to make things worse. Logan lingered for a moment, before following him. 

“Get a medic to see to them.” He ordered, staring down at the floor. It wasn’t going to help George, but maybe they stood a chance at helping Alex. More than Lewis would anyway. 

“Sir-”

“What, Logan?” He almost snapped. He wasn’t sure if he had any patience for any more problems. 

“Nothing- just-” Logan placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to borrow my sunglasses? There’s a lot of journalists waiting outside.”

“Why-?”

“Your eyes- not that there’s a problem with it but-”

Right. He was crying again. He hadn’t even noticed. He must have looked a state for Logan to be pointing it out. “I’ll take the sunglasses. Thanks.”

Sunglasses on, he stepped back out of the bank. He took a long way round back to the tent, hoping for some time alone. That was difficult of course, but for a brief moment he was sure that no one would bother him, hidden beside the white fabric. For the first time since leaving the restaurant, he took his phone out of his pocket.

A little part of him hoped that Nico would have texted him. Would have said something that showed it was all a misunderstanding. That he wasn’t involved. 

There was nothing from him. The only notification was a news article on the heist itself, a helicopter view of the bank popping up before he could close the feed. He scrolled through the phone to get to his messages. Checking to see what Nico had last sent. Looking for any clues. 

Nico’s name wasn’t there anymore. Nothing in his previous texts. No calls. Nico wasn’t even in his contacts. He had been blocked on every form of contact they had. It was like Nico had never even been there. Like he had never been a part of his life. 

He wasn’t sure what emotions were going through his head. Despair. Betrayal. Anger. Grief. It was difficult to put a finger on it. Regardless, he felt awful. He threw his phone to the floor without a thought, the screen shattering on impact. 

Lewis didn’t pick it up again. With a wipe he removed the tears from his face, and walked away. 

At some point he could have gone home. He probably should have. He didn’t. Instead he spoke to the journalists, he phoned his boss, he debriefed with his staff. It got later and later. Lewis stayed, and worked as hard as he could to keep his mind busy. It got to a point where there was very little left to do.

A tired-looking Logan approached him in the early hours of the morning. “Lewis. We’re going to take Vettel across to the station. Did you want to-”

“Yeah.” Lewis pushed past him. “Let me speak to him first.”

Sebastian was fast asleep in the chair, body leant over itself with handcuffed wrists bolting him to the table. The glass of water Lewis had left him hadn’t been touched. He nodded to the officers watching over the man, who quietly informed him that nothing had happened in the few hours he had been there. 

He didn’t wake up when Lewis sat down in the chair placed opposite him, on the other side of the small table. Lewis cleared his throat, loud enough for Sebastian to open his eyes. 

“Hello, Lewis.” He spoke, sleepily, seemingly calmed down somewhat from whatever state he was in before.