Chapter Text
“Charles…. Charles… Charles….”
He blinks awake, tired and wondering who’s calling his name so sweetly. Looking to the body above him, he sees that handsome man again. Broad shoulders and muscled chest, short blonde locks and stubble he wants to kiss. The man smiles at him, leans down to kiss his lips which he easily parts for more.
“You’re so perfect. So cute.” He hears the praises and it makes his cheeks go pink, squirming under that hot gaze, not knowing if he should look away or hold it head on.
It takes him a while to realize they’re both naked in bed, he likes the view, he openly stares and the stranger only smirks, teasing him with his words, talking so charmingly, seducing Charles in every aspect. He likes the words he hears more than what his eyes can take in and perhaps that is what’s most dangerous. No one else can mimic this kind of pull, Charles leans into the kiss, well aware that he’s simply consciously dreaming and the worst part is that he refuses to wake.
Alone with his most private thoughts, honest to himself, he has fallen prey to the Dutch Lion. Would he have loved Max if he knew he was the Dutch Lion? No. Definitely, no. But would Charles still have fallen for him all the same if Max spoke to him the same way he did when he was Franz? Yes. Inevitably, yes.
He has yet to settle his thoughts, yet to folder and file his feelings, taking into account the betrayal and lies from not just Max, but his family. In his dreams, he doesn’t carry those burdens with him, with himself he allows his heart to lead where his head cannot follow. It’s the hormones, it’s the drugs acting up, giving him withdrawal symptoms of his supposed mate; it’s logical he’s being plagued by such dreams, it doesn’t really really mean anything. In a week or two, this will fade away and hopefully his voice will stop haunting him in the dark.
-O-O-O-
Despite being home, life isn’t the same anymore. Charles feels restless despite resting, he has to wear the thickest scent blockers now, the sound of the sea is distant and there is no one to greet him a good morning except the countless servants and bodyguards in the household and none of which has the same ring to his heart. He eats his meal with his brothers; Lorenzo, still guilty and ashamed, is quiet on the other end, then there’s Arthur who doesn’t stop talking because he misses his elder brother.
He lacks appetite, they offer him juice which he turns down because it makes him think of Max.
Charles gets up and starts his day; he gets driven down to the city, he visits his territory; everyone greets him like normal, most of them unaware of the showdown at the dock. He busies himself with reports but nothing really brings his attention, oftentimes he finds himself gazing out at the blue sea whenever he gets the view.
Dissatisfaction coils around him for being fooled but that only fuels his need for answers even more. Luckily, Bryan comes back with the information he wanted and Charles slowly gets to investigating.
Ferrari first; all documents regarding the purchase or trading of hormone drugs and other similar medications. Names of doctors and other professionals involved. Spreadsheets of data and results. Countless of other names that were tested before it was perfected. He realizes how large this entire scheme is and the only reason he has this information is because Ferrari isn’t aware that he knows about it. What Max gave him in that USB was probably only 3% of what it actually is. It infuriates him to no end, Charles stops when he hits a dead end, gives Bryan more orders to dig up more skeletons.
“What about the other things I asked?”
“...Right. Here… the Prince asks that you keep this completely confidential.”
“Of course.”
Charles takes the Ipad from Bryan’s hand, unlocks it with a password and views the documents inside. Everything in Monaco is within his bounds and the real actual Prince of Monaco is a good friend of his so it was no surprise Charles could get border information with a snap of his fingers. He’ll remember to repay the favour someday.
Max might be the Dutch Lion but even the Dutch Lion has to adhere to international rules and whatnot. He might’ve fake documents on entry for him and his gang but they won’t be able to hide for long. Charles recalls the faces of the men standing by for their leader, he remembers their distinctive features enough to pull their files out on screen.
All with fake names, fake passports and forged documents.
He stops when he finally finds Franz Hermann’s documents; how much is real? His birthdate? His nationality? The picture is real though. Blonde hair, blue eyes, prominent high nose, sharp jaw.
The Monegasque closes the file, passes the device back to his assistant and tells him to dig up real actual information on the selected people. He wants videos, pictures, bank transactions, every last trace. When Bryan comes back in 3 hours time with said requested items, Charles knows Max thought a step ahead of him.
“...Sorry but there’s not much… they covered their tracks well… this is all I can find.”
Charles sighs but reviews them nonetheless. Nothing much of importance, despite the rumors of the Dutch Lion being cruel, he seems quite thoughtful of his subordinates, going as far as to ensure their safety in foreign grounds.
“What’s this?” One of the files is not like the other, it's a frayed away document looking like it dates back to many years ago.
“That’s the only thing I can find on ‘Max Verstappen’” Bryan explains and Charles notes that Max’s actual real name is written on the paper, followed by entry stamps into Monaco and other identity information. The passport picture is yellowed out but the young child in it still looks clear.
“Oh.” he pans as he stares for very long, ‘Cute’ his head chimes in a heartbeat.
“...Why…. Why didn’t he get rid of this? He… could’ve.”
“He missed out, maybe? I don’t know. Or he doesn’t remember… he does look really young in the picture.”
Logical but Charles’ head whispers ‘He kept this for you to find’, to prove that Max Verstappen was in Monaco all those years ago, to say that he’s walked these streets, he’s seen the sea and maybe he has met his mate—
“Leave, let me think.” He orders and his assistant pauses with an odd look but follows his orders to the dot.
It made no sense. Why would Max who’s so meticulous in his moves leave a document with his birth name on it? Charles re-reads the entire paperwork again, eyeing the stamp with the date of his entry to the country. He wouldn’t have presented as an Alpha yet, he wouldn’t be able to tell and Charles remembers his parents telling him that he presented late as an Alpha…that he had no secondary gender for many years… that it was normal… or… was it?
Hurriedly he takes out the Ferrari files again; he skims through, trying to find a connection. There must be a reason, there must be a link somehow, somewhere. If Max planned the fucking crusie then he would’ve thought of this. If he gave Charles the USB, then he knew he’d dig the truth. If his words are true then there must’ve been evidence.
Charles looks at the funding document from Ferrari; their reason to invest in secondary gender research. Paper clips on the article, a sudden change of direction, a sudden need for the future. They dumped millions of euros overnight like they’re interested, or more like they ran out of time. Did he present early? Did Max trigger it? Why can’t he remember then? If he truly did meet his mate then why does he remember zero?
It sickens him but the dates match up. 3 days after Max’s entry into Monaco, Ferrari signs a huge fund over to research on secondary genders, more and more money piles in as the years go by, hidden as something noble and kind– for education, for knowledge, for the future. Charles himself made no question when Ferrari pledged their direction to continue every year, he thought the gang was giving back to society, that they take the money to do good too.
He was a fool.
“You are perfect, baby. Perfect.”
Max had praised him like that a few times but it was endearment, no? Had he meant something else? ‘Perfect Omegas’, he’s heard of that term before, the rarest of genetics. Could he be? Is that the reason why? Of everything, why didn’t Max tell him something so important? Did he leave this for him to figure out? Why? Why? Charles feels his hands shake, reality hitting him hard to know that IF he really is a Perfect Omega then his ‘family’ really screwed him over. He should’ve been so perceptive towards his Alpha, yet he couldn’t recognize his mate at a closer distance, even after everything Max had done. It wasn’t enough.
Was he… telling the truth? All of Max’s words hit him now, he replays their last encounter together. The Dutch Lion is his mate? Can he believe those words after all the lies and manipulation? If he can’t trust Ferrari, can’t trust Max, and can’t even trust his own instincts then what else does he have left?
He needs answers, he needs to find Max Verstappen and wring it out of that fucking Alpha— it’s all his fault! If only he had told him more- If he had said more than just riddles! If he had just spent the time explaining rather than frolicking around in the sheets with Charles then maybe he wouldn’t be in this much pain and suffering.
He has to find him—!
“Charles!” Bryan barges in, causing the Monegasque to look up with a glare. “What?!”
“...Lorenzo sent a messenger, he said it was urgent.” Bryan closes the door behind him, ensuring it’s just the two of them, he leans closer, words barely a whisper “...It’s… It’s the Dutch Lion… he… he managed to track down their safe house…”
Charles is up on his feet, ready to follow through with his plan to drag that Dutchman to his knees and get answers.
“Let’s go…no time to waste.” He doesn’t even care that he’s not fully recovered yet, he knows he needs to see Max.
“...He’s… dead.” Bryan states flatly and Charles freezes in his spot. “Lorenzo said… the intel should be right… The Dutch Lion… is dead. There’s… too many signs and even now, the gang is trying to cover it up and get a successor but he did not leave a will… or…. Well— that’s what…we know so far.”
…
Charles chuckles, sounding deranged as he turns to his assistant, “Tell Lorenzo, his intel is wrong then.”
“Charles….”
“He’s not… he can’t be.”
“Charles, please!”
“Do you really think this… man who planned over 10 years to find me, to corner me of all people would die by a gunshot?! That… Max Verstappen— would…. No. no. not when he’s found me… not when he’s… done everything… he wouldn’t die… like this… wouldn’t die for a cause he hasn’t completed!”
“What are you saying, Charles??? He’s a terrible man! He kidnapped you!! He held you hostage!! He manipulated you!! Fuck! You didn’t tell us what he did to you but… but… everyone… could take a fucking hint! He…. He’s the villain! You’re being brain washed!!”
“....”
Silence falls between them, cold shackling silence.
“...I want a body.”
“What?!”
“Tell Lorenzo… I don’t want this floating ‘intel’. Get me a dead body to prove it. Get me a cemetery, a fucking grave… a body bag will do. Tell him he better hurry… because I am dying for answers and I am losing patience.” Charles grits out, the angriest he’s ever been and even Bryan lowers his head down out of fear, the Beta would start whimpering soon if this keeps up.
“...Yes, sir.” The other runs out while there’s survival chances.
Alone, Charles tears the scent blocker patches off his neck, allowing his scent to float naturally in the air. He inhales it deeply, noticing the changes he didn’t realize before, savoring the little bits left of the Alpha’s.
One thing is true; Charles Leclerc is indeed an Omega.
That, he can no longer deny.