Breathe…

Straighten back… position arms correctly… Fingers pointed down… head tilted just so… and…

…Breathe!

The familiar sounds of the pool hall faded away to near nothingness as the precise movements that the athlete was about to execute played and replayed in an endless loop in his mind.

Bend knees exactly 45 degrees… jump with just enough strength to test the steel board… to feel the resistance under you feet… Push… Leap… and…

… Fall.

Faster than the untrained eye could process, the well-toned man leapt from the board even as his inner monologue remained hidden from the world around him, his breathing the only indication that the statuesque figure was human at all.

His lean and defined torso rotated into seemingly impossible angles with lightning quick and finely tuned precision as the surface below him sped forward and gravity took control over its domain. And as the semi-tepid waters rushed forward over the man's rock steady body, barely any sound or movement broke the water's surface to give any indication of the great heights he'd just fallen from.

Unharmed and deep in concentration, the man continued to scrutinize every muscle that had just been used, no matter how minute.

He resurfaced quickly and absently swam to the side of the regulation size swimming pool with a deep scowl firmly planted on his face in disapproval.

A significantly older man dressed in an equally old looking pair of sweats met the diver by the side of the pool and handed him a towel without any words of praise that he had long since learned would only fall upon deaf ears.

"You didn't rotate fully in the third position, Arthur. And your right leg was a fraction further back than you're left." The grey haired man mumbled out loud while deep in thought as the diver lifted himself effortlessly from the gently rocking water and took the offered towel to dry off his wild untamed hair.

"I know." This was Arthur's only reply as his diving routine was once again meticulously ripped apart and examined repeatedly in his mind's eye.

"You're overtraining" The coach subtly warned, daring to bring up an increasingly dangerous topic that was almost guaranteed to set the serious competitor off.

The towel that Arthur held to his face slowly fell away, his normally bright green eyes rimmed with red from over his extended contact with the chlorine that day.

"I don't care." Arthur's reply was firm and his resolve unwavering.

And Arthur really didn't care how close he was to the edge. He was done with playing it safe. In the past he'd always done what he was told, he'd gone by the book, he'd done everything the experts had ever told him to do and what good had it ever done for him?

Arthur Kirkland was the reigning Diving World Champion and against all odds had held that title more times than any other athlete from any other summer sport. No diver in the history of competitive diving had won more awards than he had; none had dominated the sport as strongly as he could and none could even come close to his marks when he showed up to event.

Unless of course, it was the only event that anyone actually cared about.

Well then… that's when everything would fall apart.

Five chances had slipped through his fingers! Five times he had watched as his beloved country had turned on him in hate and scorn for his inability to deliver when it counted. Five impossible times he had managed to qualify for the Olympics without even breaking a sweat and then failed to even make it past the preliminary rounds once he got there.

He was Arthur Bloody Kirkland and he would not sit by idly and allow the last chance he had at an Olympic Gold medal slip through his fingers for the 6th and final time.

xxxxxxxx

It would almost be impossible to describe the feeling of hopefulness, excitement and sheer joy that vibrated throughout the Olympic Village as Alfred F. Jones made his way down the central brick pathway, stopping only to take yet another photo with his hard earned expensive camera.

He was well on his way to filling up his third memory card as his good friend and fellow Olympian Tony Smith nudged him playfully, laughing at his over exuberance at the smallest detail. Alfred would get excited over the simplest of things: whenever he saw a 2012 Olympic emblem, a display of world flags, even some athletes having a mock game of soccer in the main courtyard.

Alfred could only smile in embarrassment and defend his youthful exuberance.

"Laugh it up Tony, but this is already your third Olympics, the novelty must just have worn off in your old age." Alfred teased in fake disdain.

Tony only rolled his eyes and played the part of the older wiser Olympian well. "It's not my fault that you gymnast have a life span of a month" His friend exaggerated. "We divers tend to milk these things as long as we can."

The truth was, of course, not as bad as either of them made it out to be. Tony Smith was the current US national Diving Champion and had earned Gold at the 2008 Olympics in Beijing. At 24, the American diver was truly in the 'prime' of his chosen career. Whereas, Alfred at 20 was considered just starting his short Gymnastics career, a competitive career that usually only lasted between the ages of 20-25 for men, especially in the physically demanding Rings and High Bar that Alfred excelled at.

But no matter what either of them said, they both knew what an honour it was to be at any Olympics game, be it their first or third time.

The official 2012 Olympics in London hadn't even officially begun yet, but the festivities were well underway. The opening ceremonies weren't for another few days, but already the Olympic village was full of athletes from many different nations. There were a few pre-competition events, just like every year, but most were there to do practice runs in the discipline of their choice.

But this evening was a different matter entirely. Alfred, Tony and the rest of the US Olympic team were currently dressed to the nines in their nicest Team USA attire and were on their way to the Welcome Party for Olympians and their coaches. The older and more experienced Olympians tried to act unaffected, but even Alfred could tell they were just as caught up as he was in the 'Maybe this will be their year" spirit.

Some were nervous as hell about their upcoming performances, especially those that took place in the first week of the Olympics, but for Alfred's part, he was taking everything in like a tourist might. Never in a million years could he have imagined making it to the Olympics and certainly not in the short amount of years he'd actively been competing.

Back home he was being celebrated as a progeny, one of America's best chances at an Olympic Gold, and more importantly, a Gymnastics Olympic Gold. If he played his cards right he could be looking at several medals really, including one for the All-Around Team Event. But strangely, none of that weighed as heavily on his mind as it probably should have. Anyone who knew Alfred knew that he truly was as genuine as he appeared to be.

He played hard, but he worked even harder and he knew more than anyone else how lucky he was to have gotten this far. Absolutely nothing was going to diminish the experience of having made it to the Olympics: Gold Medal or not… he had done the unthinkable already and that was more than enough for him already.

A few more of his teammates joined up with Tony and Alfred as the sun started to slowly set around them and the main meeting hall became visible. Loud music and a joyous atmosphere oozed out of the windows and onto the lively front patio. If possible, an even wider grin cracked on Alfred's face as he dodged ahead to accept some non-alcoholic beer, there was real alcohol on tap of course, but few athletes would brave any possible substance in their systems so close to the drug testing.

Inside the building there was a large selection of food, mostly of the health variety, and people were either playing games or already starting to dance despite the sun still being visible over the horizon. It made sense to have such an event so early in the day. Olympians were stressed out enough about the upcoming world event and were unlikely to stay up until 2am just to dance the night away. But these gatherings were needed to stress the importance of the event and allow the athletes to meet in a relatively safe and non-competitive venue.

Within moments of entering the loud building Alfred and Tony made their way over to the food table, Alfred only stopping to eat to take more photos than he thought he had room for on his memory card. The hall was filled with more than enough participants for his trigger happy fingers and he was pleased to have one athlete after another happily throw themselves in front of his lens and giggle happily while displaying their country flag on whatever team outfit that had been chosen for them.

It was during such a pose that Alfred caught something in the corner of his camera lens view while trying to manually focus on some happy Romanians. An unusual sight, at least from what Alfred had so far seen, appeared in the distance when a grey haired man visibly pushed a short-ish scowling man with a lean build through the front doors. The younger of the two ripped his hands out of the other's grip and snapped something angrily, but whatever it was he said, it was quickly silenced by some reprimand that had the shorter man moving along reluctantly into the building.

His participants in the photo started to grow anxious when he'd yet to take a photo and verbally began to complain in a language Alfred didn't speak at all. He quickly took the photo and apologized before dismissing the group and trying to find the strange duo once more.

It didn't take Alfred long to find the two men making their way somewhat closer but stopping halfway when the younger man found a couch that was virtually untouched by the energetic group around them. Alfred quickly held his large camera up and zoomed in as far as the lens would allow in order to sneak a better look.

While it was clear the grey haired man was far too old to be an athlete, the younger of the two also appeared to be past the usual age for an Olympian and was more than likely a fellow coach. But the whole situation had more of the appearance of a Father and Son argument than that of two equals.

The older of the two stood up and physically motioned for the younger man to remain where he was, even as he continued to sit there defiantly and determined not to mingle. The old man then walked off and turned around only once to utter some last threat that made Alfred wish he could read lips for no other reason to than to find out what could make a full grown adult stay seated against his will.

The sitting man was finally left to his own devices and looked just as unhappy as he had been before. Alfred curiously catalogued his dark blonde hair that had obviously not been groomed before the party and while the man was dressed in his Team Uniform, indicating he was a citizen of the Host Country, the United Kingdom, he was only wearing the training outfit, something you wore right after a routine… not to a party.

The scowl on his face was made even more prominent by a pair of thick brows that were turned down and matched perfectly by a thin pair of lips that were pressed tightly and displayed an equal amount of unhappiness. Through the lenses Alfred could make out a pair of green eyes that were practically spitting fire at the retreating back of the other coach before briefly turning his way.

While it would have been unlikely that the fuming man had seen him, the illusion of the angry gaze directed his way had been more than enough for Alfred to drop his camera down and look shame faced at the ground. But not before snapping a quick photo despite himself, making him feel all the more guilty for his actions.

"Hey Al, what's up? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Alfred quickly replaced his embarrassment with a crooked smile. "Nah its ok Tony…. Just that coach over there caught me taking his picture and didn't seem too happy about it… I think… I'm not really too sure…"

The American diver directed his gaze towards the couch and Alfred was surprised to hear a groan of distaste. "That's no coach Al, just an old stubborn bastard who doesn't know when it's time to retire."

Alfred couldn't stop the way his eyes lit up in excitement and his voice asked just a little too expectantly. "You mean… you know him?"

Tony looked wearily back at him, not liking where the conversation was going at all. "Yeah… of course I know him. That's Arthur Kirkland, the supposed 'Top Winning Diver of all time"." Tony's voice took on a mocking quality before he mumbled moodily to himself. "At least in his own over-inflated opinion."

Cautious of showing too much interest, Alfred began to fiddle with his camera strap, completely unaware of how the action gave away his true feelings on the matter all too clearly. "What do you mean? I thought you were the best. Has he ever beat you before?"

"No!" Tony practically spat out, but then grudgingly corrected himself. "I mean… sort of… well technically yes. But not when it counted, like in Beijing!"

Alfred knew full well that his training camp friend had come in second yet again at the recent World Diving Competition, but as Alfred was unfamiliar with the athletes in the other sports he'd never heard the rest of the results.

"So he just wins at national competitions then, he doesn't place in worlds or anything." Alfred innocently asked with some disappointment, his natural and somewhat morbid curiosity once again getting the better of him.

"Not exactly… " Tony grudgingly admitted. "Kirkland is the reigning World Champion, has been for a few years now. And before that he had held the title a few times as well. BUT!" And here Tony emphasized with gritted teeth. "He has a nasty habit of buckling under pressure."

Alfred looked as dubious as anyone could when told a multiple World Champion was prone to 'buckling under pressure.' But Tony wasted no time in proving his point.

"Alfred, first of all, Stop it! I know you and I know how you think. You see him as some kind of challenge and you are literally obsessed with 'overcoming the odds'. He's a sullen bastard and he is universally hated by his own team mates, his country, as well as every known Diver in the world. I don't know a single person who has a nice thing to say about him. Kirkland is currently competing in his 6th Olympics. SIXTH OLYMPICS, Alfred! He's a 35 year old diver who had the good fortune to have been born into a rich family who was willing to pay for his failed Olympic career." Tony purposely mentioned this fact, knowing all too well that this was the kind of thing that would most likely get to Alfred, even though the US diver himself didn't exactly lack any means of funds.

"Most people think he's pretty cursed to have that kind of bad luck in the Olympics and rightfully avoid him and his sour attitude. So while Mommy and Daddy have been throwing their money away, he's been chasing Olympic Gold since before either of us were even born. And not once has he ever even come close to making it to the finals at the Olympics."

"And the rest of the time?" Alfred couldn't help but ask in a quiet voice; his curiosity more than piqued by now, the exact opposite of what Tony was aiming for.

"The rest of the time…" Tony's voice wavered, bitterness spilling forth despite himself. "The limey is fucking untouchable."

XXXX

TBC…

Author's Notes:

I'm dabbling in USUk, so let me know what you think.

Just a little something to get you all excited about the upcoming Olympics.

I do have more of this written, but I won't bother editing it and posting if there is no interest. In which case I'll just crawl back to my world of RusCan :P