Sur La Glace

A Caskett Figure Skating AU. 3 parts.


Stepping out of the bathroom, Rick Rogers wiped the remaining dampness off his hands and onto his t-shirt. Then, he pulled the light cotton gloves out of the waistband of his pants, where he stashed them during his bathroom trip. He tugged on the gloves and the wiggled and stretched his fingers making sure they were on snuggly, but still allowed him full use of his hands. When he felt a tug on one of the cracks in the webbing between his thumb and index finger, he winced and cursed under his breath. His hands really were suffering that winter far more than others, which was odd because the temperature was average at best. Perhaps, he thought bitterly, it was just his advancing age. He wasn't the spry eighteen-year-old who could spend hours on the ice without even thinking twice—not anymore. His mid-twenties really were hitting him hard.

Sucking up his discomfort, Rick walked around the edge of the ice rink to where his partner patiently waited for him. She sat on a bench with her back to him as he approached. Generally, it was she who interrupted their practice for bathroom breaks far more than he. As he had been known to joke about her tiny bladder now and then, his interruption meant she was well within her right to tease him—and he expected that she would once they got going again. As for him: he would say that the lesson of staying up too late and trying to make up for the exhaustion with coffee was learned, but it probably wasn't.

"Okay, I'm good now. I promise next time I'll keep my morning coffees to only…hey." His voice fell into one of concern when his partner turned around to face him. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her brow crinkled. As he had known her well over a decade, he knew her expressions better than anyone, and this one signified distress. "What's going on? What happened?" He'd barely been gone more than two minutes and they were alone in the rink. He very much doubted something too catastrophic could have happened except—oh. She was holding her phone. "Did you get a message from your father?"

"No, no; it's nothing."

She moved to put the device back in her bag, but he stepped forward and reached out for her arm. "It's not nothing," he pointed out. He knew Kate Beckett as well as he knew any other person on the planet, so he was quite aware of her tendency to suppress all her emotions. He was equally familiar with how it could affect her performance on the ice. Seeing as they were less than a month out from the Figure Skating World Championships, an event at which they planned to place in the top three, it was best that whatever was bothering her came out then, and not after several days of trips, falls, and missed transitions.

"C'mon—what is it?"

They stared at each other for about ten seconds before she let out a huffed breath and turned her eyes momentarily towards the ceiling. When she looked back at him, her distress had mixed with anger. "You know how I ended things with Brandon on Friday night? Well he…he texted me and it—never mind."

Rick's left hand closed around her bicep and he asked gently. "What did he say?"

She shook her head and looked away. For a moment he thought she'd brush him off again, but then she silently handed over her phone. Castle bit the index finger of his right glove so he could pull it off and actually use the phone. He swiped open the home screen and pulled up her messages. Brandon's was on top. Considering the preview started with, "You're such a bitch, Kate," he didn't have high hopes for the rest of the message, but he read it anyway.

Considering the hours they spent in each other's presence, it was inevitable that they knew significant amounts about each other's personal lives. From what Rick could recall, Kate had been seeing Brandon for about two months, though that was a misleading time frame as they had spent two long weekends away at workshops with the US National Team. If he recalled correctly, Brandon worked in finance—or something with money and numbers—and also had a busy schedule, so despite the fact that they were "dating" they hadn't spent too much time together. In fact, a few days earlier, when he asked if she had Friday night plans, Kate had informed him that she would actually be breaking up with Brandon because their training schedule didn't allow a lot of free time, and she found herself not invested enough in him to carve out more time for their relationship. "I just don't think we have much chemistry," she had said.

Reading through Brandon's message, he evidently felt differently. He thought that Kate was flirting with him and, in his mind, leading him on, which led to an aggressive string of insults within the message, criticizing her for being a tease without actually putting out. The longer it went on (the message took up the full screen size of her phone and then some) Rick began to feel nauseous. Brandon was an asshole, so he was glad Kate had chosen to end the relationship, but he also felt sick that his good friend was faced with so many unkind and untrue words.

Once he was done reading, Rick handed the phone back with the comment, "Wow; what a dick."

"Yeah."

As she slid the phone back into her bag, Rick could tell she didn't quite believe him, so he walked around in front of her and said, "I'm serious Kate; you know all of that was uncalled for assholery, right?"

She turned back to him, a bit sad. "But he's not totally wrong."

"About the fact that going out for more than four weeks means you have to have sex? Yes—yes that is totally wrong."

She shook her head quickly. "No, not that—I don't care about that. I mean what he said about the fact that I'll never care about anyone or anything more than I care about skating."

"That is also untrue," Rick said conclusively, as he had witnessed evidence to the contrary.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she walked towards the ice and leaned against the wall around the rink's edge. "It feels true. When we're in competition season like this, I don't think my focus can ever be on another person. My head is always here," she said, gesturing out towards the smooth pool of frozen water. "The next competition, the last one, what can we improve, how can we be stronger. I even think about it when I'm in the shower." She laughed, shook her head, and then gave a little guilty shrug. "Maybe I just shouldn't even bother dating; maybe I should just be like you."

He laughed and quickly said, "Oh well, that's definitely not the solution." He did have a self-proclaimed rule against anything but casual dating, but that was for several reasons. True, one of them was a lack of ample free time, but it was far from at the top of the list. Past heartbreak, witnessing all his mother's failed relationships growing up, and the unrequired love that not even his best friend-slash-partner knew about ranked far above free time.

"You shouldn't throw in the towel in dating because of one jerkoff, Kate. You just need to find the guy who gets it—gets you."

"Who only wants to go on one date a month," she chimed in.

He waved his hand casually. "Oh, come on now—I'm sure you can squeeze in two dates in a month."

She rolled her eyes. "Right. Anyway—we've wasted enough time on Brandon now so let's just get back out there."

As she reached down to pull off her blade covers, so did he. Sensing that she still seemed a little bit sad, he said, "Hey Kate? I'm really sorry."

She gave a half smile. "Thanks. Now are you ready?"

"I was born ready, Beckett."

She rolled her eyes and then reached out for his hand as they stepped out onto the ice together.


After finishing his cool-down lap, Rick stepped off the ice, walked the few steps towards the nearest bench, and collapsed down on it. He plunged his hand down into his duffle bag, pulled out a towel, and mopped the sweat that had accumulated at the base of his neck and around the collar of his shirt. They had worked hard that afternoon and he knew he'd be feeling it in his muscles the following morning, but he was proud of what they had accomplished. They had done exactly what they promised their coach; they were Olympic-ready.

When Kate finished her last lap, she stopped at the edge of the ice, but didn't step off. Instead she lifted her hand up to cover her mouth and gazed out across the rink as though the secrets of the universe were written somewhere in the space between the floor and the rafters. He caught the wistful look in her eye and knew exactly what she was thinking. Later, he would be thinking it too. Probably the moment he stepped into the shower all the emotions would come pouring out. He promised himself he'd keep them in check during that practice though, since if they leaned one thing over the years it was that if he lost control, she would spiral right along with him.

"Hey," he said softly, waiting until she looked over to him before continuing. "It's not over yet."

"But it's the last time we'll practice on this ice."

He felt his heart clench in his chest, as he still found himself heavily entrenched in denial. He knew once it was truly over—after the Olympics—he would go through the full range of grieving emotions. Saying goodbye to the thing he had done for fifteen years—well over half his life—was never going to be easy. Neither was saying goodbye to the person he'd shared it with, but he definitely couldn't think about that; he'd never get through the upcoming competition if he did.

When she finally did step off the ice, he saw the tears on her cheeks, and his heart clenched again. He stood and opened his arms saying, "Hey; it's okay. C'mere."

She sniffled and fell against his chest. "Sorry. I guess it's just hitting me how close this is to being over."

"Doesn't have to be, you know," he pointed out. Her retirement wouldn't be official until after the Games, which, as their coach had secretly told him on several occasions, gave them ample opportunity to talk her out of it. While Rick played along, he also knew his stubborn partner well enough to know that her mind was 99.9% made up. Still, he liked to wiggle his way into that .1% chance whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"No. My foot. I can't."

He rubbed her back one more moment and then stepped back, giving her a small smile. "You never know. Maybe if you take a year off then it'll-"

"No; I don't think it will."

Rick nodded and decided not to push further. She'd been fighting with the pain in her left foot for almost as long as he knew her, seeing as they were practicing together at the rink when she broke it originally. It was a fluke accident, with another skating couple crashing into her and her falling in just the right way. As she was so young, she bounced back fairly quickly, but ever since it had been prone to injury. She hurt it again the summer she was twenty by falling down some stairs at a rented beach house (later, she confessed to only him the incident happened after she'd had too much to drink). For the next few years, she had been stuck in the pattern of it getting better and then worse and then better once more. Doctors had suggested that a year-long rest might give her some permanent release from the pain she experienced, but Rick also knew her foot was not the only reason Kate did not want to compete anymore.

"I'm sorry," she said after a minute of silence between them. She brushed the tears off her cheeks and said, "I know you want to keep competing but-"

"No, no; it's not that," he said positively, even though her statement was not untrue. He enjoyed their partnership so much he certainly would not have been the one to end it, but he also felt that even if Kate's foot wasn't bothering her, she still would want to call her second Olympics her final. They had many discussions on the subject and he could not say he entirely disagreed with her sentiments about being burned out and wanting to change. He certainly wasn't going to be disappointed about not getting up at the crack of dawn, working out or skating for hours upon hours, and then going to bed only to do it all again the next day. Still, seeing as it was more or less all he'd known since they started competing at an elite level when he was sixteen, it was going to be an adjustment.

"You don't have to hide your feelings from me, Rick. If you're upset, be upset. If you're angry with me, be angry."

"I'm not angry; I never would be." He promised her.

She nodded, though did not look entirely convinced. She turned back towards the ice for a moment and then asked, "Will you skate one more lap with me?"

"Always."

He took her hand and they stepped out into the ice, gliding across it in their highly synchronized manner. As they reached the midway point, Kate shifted so that she skated backwards in front of him and said, "You know…Coach told me he was going to offer you another partnership after me. He didn't want me to be blind sighted, I guess. I don't know if he's said anything to you yet, but I want you to know it's okay with me."

Rick gazed down at her, as certain then as he ever was of the decision. Their coach had told him they would talk about it officially after the Games, but he had given him the head's up about two potential new partners. He hadn't said anything then, but he knew what his answer would be. "No—I'm not interested in skating with anyone but you."

For a moment, she looked relieved, but then turned to skate side-by-side with him and casually added, "You never know."

"I know," he said conclusively. He had for many, many years.

When his mother first suggested that he take skating lessons, eleven-year-old Rick had been utterly appalled. Why did he need to learn to skate? It wasn't like learning to swim, which could one day be a key factor in saving his life. Skating was dumb! Despite his protests, his mother did not give him a choice—especially since she needed him to go to the skating day camp while she was in rehearsals for her latest play.

By the end of his first day, Rick no longer hated skating. He could not conclusively say that he was a fan, but it seemed easy enough. Plus, he was in a group of mostly girls, and he loved girls—especially when those girls paid a lot of attention to him. As his training progressed, he tried jumps, which were okay, and spins, which made him horribly nauseous. Still, his natural talent for being on blades remained, and when a coach approached his mother suggesting he continue as a pairs skater, he didn't protest. Continuing as half of a pair meant he got to hold girls' hands, and what could be better than that?

Rick really wasn't sure how his casual skating beginning lead to becoming a competitive ice dancer. He just continually found himself in the right place at the right time, particularly a few years later on the day he was paired up with then twelve-year-old Kate Beckett. The skinny, too-tall-for-her-age girl could have been clumsy or awkward, but she moved as though the ice skates were merely an extension of her long legs. He was impressed by her, and later amused when she seemed to find him quite annoying. The second they moved together, though, it was magic—or so their mothers had both concluded once they stepped off the ice. He was paired up with a few different girls over the next few months, but always came back to Kate and soon their partnership was official.

Despite their differences and fifteen-month age gap, their on-ice partnership quickly morphed into a true friendship, which only boosted their ability to skate—and dance—as one. They practiced together for nearly a year until their first completion. They won easily, and both equally felt the competitive bug. From that point on, they moved up the ranks and were crowned the US National Champions the same year Kate graduated high school. Two years later, they won Olympic gold, and as they stood side-by-side on the platform, waiving to the crowd with one hand while holding on to each other with the other, Rick was certain of one thing: he was in love with her, and there was no one else in the world for him.

True, at just twenty and twenty-one they were quite young, but international competition had raised their maturity well above their years. (Well, hers was raised well above, his was probably only slightly.) Practically since they started competing coaches, competitors, and the media had applauded their passion and chemistry. She always brushed it off as passion for the sport. He liked to make jokes about good acting being in his blood, but the truth was their ice dances displayed passion because that's what he felt. Holding her close was exhilarating. It was one of the reasons why he hauled his exhausted body out of bed every morning; just so he could see her smile and hold her body close to his.

Of course, Kate had made it very clear from the beginning that their partnership was platonic and nothing more. Even then as he admitted to himself his love for her, he did so knowing she didn't feel the same. But the hope was there; the dream.

Now, almost exactly four years later, as they skated hand-in-hand around the rink just as they had done thousands of times before, the hope remained. Perhaps, it was even just a little bit more than hope. Things had shifted over the prior year. She talked to him more about what she wanted in a relationship, the kind of love she wanted to find. Perhaps it was his blind optimism, but he truly believed she was feeling him out, trying to decide if he was really the man she wanted. He tried—he tried so hard to be the best man he could; to be good enough for her. He really felt that he could be. And it was one of the reasons he did not fight her decision to retire from competition, because she had said on many occasions that would be the point at which she was ready for a real relationship. True, it was a gamble, because if she didn't want him then there was a real possibility that they would no longer be a large part of each other's lives. Such a fate would be devastating, but in his mind the risk was worth the reward.

After two laps around the ice they returned to their bags and began to change out of their skates. He was ready before her, but he waited patiently with his hands in his coat pockets. When she slung her bag over her shoulder and gave him a nod, they made their way towards the exit, but before she pushed open the door, she turned back to him and said, "In case I forget to say it: thanks for being my partner for the past twelve years."

He smiled at her. "Ditto. I couldn't have asked for a better partner, Kate."

She mirrored his expression and sighed, "Yeah…me neither."


A/N: Thank you for reading!

this little AU ficlet was a product of some late night YouTube watching. It may or may not be inspired from a real figure skating duo...

2 more parts to this one :)