Summary: The recovery story of Lando's daughter after her motocross injury
Warning: Motocross accident, injury, broken bones, hospital, physio, fluff, angst if you squint
TAKES MOST TAKES PLACE DURING WINTER BREAK
Three days after surgery, the swelling had gone down enough for the doctors to finally place a proper cast on her leg. Lando had barely left the hospital. He’d only gone home once—to shower, grab clean clothes, and pick up her favorite hoodie (one of his quadrant hoodies, actually; she stole it two years ago before it was even released and never gave it back).
She was quiet, more than usual. Not in pain—at least not physically anymore—but in her spirit. She didn’t ask about her bike. Didn’t ask when she’d ride again.
That worried him more than the X-rays ever could.
Week 2 – Home, but Hurting
“Careful,” Lando muttered, arms under her as he helped her down onto the couch. She winced as her casted leg brushed the cushion.
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“You’re not fine,” he said. “You broke your tibia. There’s literally a metal rod in your leg now.”
“I don’t need reminding.”
He sat beside her, rubbing the back of his neck. There was silence for a while, broken only by the quiet hum of the telly in the background.
Then:
“I scared you,” she whispered.
He turned to her. “What?”
“I know I did. You looked... different. At the hospital.”
Lando’s throat tightened. “Yeah. You did scare me. But not because of the injury.”
“Then why?”
“Because you weren’t you. You didn’t smile. You didn’t joke. You didn’t say ‘told you I’d send it off that ramp.’ That’s how I knew you weren’t okay.”
She looked down at her lap. “What if I can’t ride again?”
Lando reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, gently. “Then we’ll figure it out. But you can. You just... need time. You’re strong. Stronger than I ever was at your age.”
She looked up at him, eyes wet. “Promise?”
He nodded. “On every race I’ve ever driven.”
Week 5 – Progress and Pushback
They started physical therapy at a small clinic outside of town. Lando insisted on driving her every time. He’d sit in the waiting room, coffee in hand, reading notes from the McLaren team, but his attention always drifted to the sound of her voice echoing down the hall.
Some days she made jokes and would not shut up to save her life.
Other days she cried in the car, or just completely shut down.
He never rushed her. Never forced her to try explain something he could never fully understand or forced her to just “tough it out.” He just listened and waited, the supportive silent which made evrything hurt just a little bit less.
And one day, on the way home, she surprised him.
“Can we go see the track this weekend?”
He nearly missed the turn, but he agreed, feeling the need to give her everything she wanted and more, and incredibly proud of her progress.
Week 7 – Back Where It Happened
They pulled into the gravel lot on a Saturday morning, sun low, the track still damp with dew. Her crutches sunk slightly in the soft dirt as she limped to the fence.
Lando followed silently.
Her eyes scanned the course. The ramp still stood where she’d flown. Fallen. Broken.
“It doesn’t look so scary now,” she said.
“Because you faced it.”
“Not on the bike.”
“No,” Lando said softly. “But in here.” He tapped her chest. “That’s where the real crash happened. And that’s where the healing starts too.”
She didn’t reply, but her hand slipped into his, and she felt so much lighter, as if visiting the track gave her the closure she needed so badly.
Week 10 – Small Steps, Big Dreams
Lando had a surprise waiting in the garage. A stationary training bike—modded with softer suspension, full safety harness, and VR goggles linked to old GoPro footage of her favorite trails.
Her jaw dropped.
“You built this?”
He shrugged. “Had some help. McLaren engineers like side projects.”
She laughed for the first time in weeks. “You’re such a nerd.”
“Dad nerd,” he corrected, grinning.
And that afternoon, as she rode slowly, leaning softer than usual, legs trembling, Lando sat nearby with a stopwatch and a tear in his eye.
She wasn’t just riding and building strength again.
She was rising.
Epilogue – Months Later
Six months to the day after her fall, she stood at the start gate of a small local event. Just an exhibition lap. No jumps. No pressure.
Lando was right beside her, adjusting her gloves, checking the straps on her boots like he always used to when she was little.
“You sure about this?” he asked, eyes searching hers.
She smiled, fearless this time. “Yeah. I’ve got my dad in my corner.”
She revved the engine.
He stepped back.
The gate dropped.
And as she took off, dust rising behind her like a storm, Lando didn’t see a broken girl. He saw his daughter—whole, brave, and flying again.
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