Hey what's up you guys! GiLaw here with a new fanfiction, this time with Jacques and Josee our favourite Ice Dancers! Just a head's up, I LOVE these two characters together, it's why they're both such good antagonists to begin with (Josee is freaking HILARIOUS), but I don't actually ship them as a couple. I just see them as really good partners in crime. So with that said, I hope you guys like this (Yeah, trying to cut out the long-ass intros).

Enjoy ;)

Recovery Process

It had been three months. Three months since the Ridonculous Race had finished airing. And when a series finishes airing, people usually talk about the finale, the winners, debate whether they deserved the million dollars or not. And then they shrug it off and get on with their normal lives.

That's what normal people do.

But Josee was not a normal person. At least she wasn't a normal person to the people she used to call her fans. Or anyone else by that matter. The Ridonculous Race had earned her fame and glory, two of her favourite things . . . for all the wrong reasons. She used to be a lovable smiling talented young dancer. Now she was a lying cheating raging little bitch who should never have been allowed to claim the bronze medal, let alone get as far as she did. Now every medal she had genuinely worked hard for, practicing for hours and hours by herself, perfecting every dancing routine, was just a token of her wickedness. The smiles that came to her face as she skated her heart out for her beloved audience weren't there because she was enjoying what she was doing. They were fake, malicious evil smiles that were glued on for the show.

Sometimes accidents happen. Sometimes they aren't your fault and you have to choke down the reality and soldier on. Sometimes your have to get over these little things. Like when the dance partner you put all your faith and trust in drops you on your face in front of hundreds and thousands of fans on the most important day of your life. It was hard enough for Josee to accept that the only reason she had that one gloomy greyish silver medal was because of her partner's slip up. Not hers. But it was even harder to even acknowledge the fact that a nonexistent bronze medal combined with all this hate and all this loathing from so many people around the world was all because of her. Not because of Don. Not because of Jacques. Because of her. Everything that had happened was because of her. All the hate was because of her. Her. All. Her. Fault.

Josee had decided that there was only one way to cope with this sudden turn of events and change of opinions against her if she was ever going to change herself. And that solution was to lock herself up in her Olympian house where no one could ever attack her, curl up to herself on a designer couch meant for three people, and watch her worst moments on TV over and over again.

Of course it wasn't a good idea.

And she had dragged Jacques down with her. He had gone down from Josee's loyal dance partner to little better than an imaginary friend. Just there. Which meant that he had to put up with more bullshit from her than he had before. And he had to watch her all day, curled up on the couch, covered in old blankets, the oldest most worn out she could find because-

"Cheaters deserve it," she had spat when she had first brought them down. And when Jacques tried to take them away, she raised the first weapon she could think of: the remote in her hand.

"DON'T TOUCH ME! I'M STAYING HERE LIKE THE PEOPLE WANT ME TO!" The frail, unstable woman waved her weapon at the taller, more muscular Jacques who yelped and backed away from his partner. Josee almost cackled in satisfaction as he paused for a moment before making a hasty retreat. He tried to keep his eyes away from her but he could sense her eyes on him, watching his every little move. If she wasn't watching her scenes on TV, she was watching him, making sure he stayed well away from the door that would lead him out into the open. Josee claimed that if he went out, he would only attract haters. But Jacques had a gut feeling he knew the real reason why she kept him locked up all day with her.

Her current partner: a bottle of Devil's Velvet wine. Jacques had to watch her all day, hunched up on that couch, staring pop-eyed at that TV, almost motionless, unless if you counted the constant trembling as moving. Her only real movement was when she reached out with her right hand, either to press a button on the remote and play back on whatever tantrum disturbed her at the moment, or to take up the bottle of wine and pour herself a glass. Then she would down the drink in one gulp, smack the glass back onto the coffee table and curl back into that hunched up position. Sometimes she would sneak a peek at her phone from underneath the sheets to check on fans, searching for any sign of love and encouragement. But no. It was all hate. Just hate.

Now it was December. Winter time. Of course being Canada, the whole place was smothered in snow. Crystal white soft fluffy snow. And every time Jacques glanced out the window and saw shimmering white blankets covering every roof and road, he couldn't help but sigh. He wanted to be out there, knowing that all the lakes would no doubt be frozen solid, perfect for ice skating. He wanted to feel the wind in his hair, the icy breeze on his face. He wanted to be able to let himself loose on the ice, let his skates do all the work for him while he let his mind run wild and perform whatever routine came to mind. Not even just for the sake of skating. Just for the freedom.

But maybe today would be the day. Maybe today, Josee would finally come to her senses and realize that rewatching everything wasn't changing anything. Or maybe she would finally snap from being cooped up indoors for so long and run out the house, screaming for open space and fresh air. But either way, Jacques decided that he was going to get out of the house and on the ice. With that, he grabbed his skates and made his way downstairs. It was early morning. The sun gazed over the crisp white snow and coated it in a sparkling orange gleam. Perfect for a skate. Surely, Jacques thought to himself, Josee would still be asleep. She had to have drunk or raged or sobbed or laughed herself to a deep enough sleep for him to get out for just a few minutes without her noticing. He would just go out, get a good, refreshing skate and then come back in like nothing had happened. Facile.

Jacques grinned to himself and leapt off the final stair, over to the door. He flicked a glance at Josee just to make sure he could really get away with it. As soon as he saw her, his face dropped along with the rest of his body. He let out a weak little groan.

Josee was still there, wide awake. She was curled up in a ball with one hand around her legs, keeping one particularly old grey blanket wrapped around her while she rested her chin on her knees and rocked herself back and fourth. And for some reason, she was humming to herself. She slowly lifted her right hand from underneath the blankets to fast forward on the TV. It was the Brazilian episode. One of the few episodes where they had come first in a challenge. Not that Josee cared about that. She was more focused on watching that scene where the had to find the tips in those coconuts. When they had gotten so desperate to find tips, they had practically handed tips to those "reality stars" and that little boy and his daddy. Jacques had seen it so many times that he had gotten over the stinging burning feel of when those fearsome ants had bitten his hand or when Josee had thrown that one coconut at him, almost knocking him out. That feeling of deception, even betrayal he had felt when he first discovered that Josee had lied to him about it . . . it was long gone. She lied about throwing a coconut at him to make herself look good. So? It was Josee. She was capable of much worse.

You know what? The woman hadn't left the couch since they had first gotten home (and if she had, he hadn't seen her). What would she do if he stepped out the door? And even if she did make an attack, he was still perfectly capable of heaving her off her feet and putting her in her place. It was something he did all the time. Just pick her up, carry her somewhere and put her down. Jacques took a deep breath, puffing out his chest and stepped towards the door when Josee whipped around and fixed her beady eyes on him. He had only taken one step and was nowhere near the door, but as soon as Josee turned around, he stopped. He stiffened on the spot. He gulped and tried to give Josee an innocent smile, but seeing the state she was in . . . His mouth wobbled. The skate laces in his hand slipped through his fingers and the skates crashed down onto the cream white carpet.

The skin on Josee's face had gotten so pale, it was as white as the snow outside apart from underneath her eyes, where the skin sagged a dark purple. The eyes themselves had turned the red colour of raw meat, wet and wrinkled with two little black dots that had locked onto him. Yet somehow, there was still a smile fixed onto her face. Not a natural smile. Not a showy smile. Not even a villainous smile that craved the taste of gold. It was a plastic smile. The kind of smile that screams "I'm not happy. I'm dying."

"Jacques . . ." Her right hand slithered down her side, behind her and began patting around for something. "Where are you going?"

"Um . . ."

'SHIT! She knows! What do I do? Do I lie to her? She's watching me! She's gonna kill me! Help! No! STOP IT! She's not! She's not going anywhere. She's just stuck there. She's been stuck there since, I don't know. You'll be fine . . . heh.'

Jacques shut his eyes, folded his arms and stuck his nose in the air. "I'm going out."

"Oh really?" Josee slowly raised her right hand from behind her and Jacques whimpered to himself in his "manly" pose. She was definitely hiding something behind that couch, but he couldn't see. What was it?

"Why do you feel the need to go out?" She blinked at him, tilting her head sideways to the right, quietly waiting impatiently for a response. Jacques's eyes were on her right hand behind her. It was probably holding a weapon of some sort. A knife? A gun?

She chuckled, a sly little chuckle that made Jacques's blood shiver. She tore her eyes away from him and raised her hand, finally revealing what she was holding: another bottle of wine. Jacques raised his eyebrows for a second, watching as she yanked the cork out with her teeth and spat it in his direction before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

"I just need some fresh air. That is all."

Josee narrowed her eyes and slowly slid the bottle of wine away from her lips. Streams of the dark red liquid trickled down her chin and dripped onto her blouse. She swallowed and wiped it away from her face with her sleeve. Jacques couldn't help but notice that in her other hand, she was still holding the remote. She gave him another grin, one that wanted to be evil and manipulative but just looked tired. Her eyes were less focused on him as she swayed the bottle of wine around in her hand.

"Aren't you afraid you might come across some haters?"

"What? NO!" Jacques snapped. "It's been three months! THREE MONTHS! No one is going to come hate us three months after some stupid show!"

"How do you know?" Josee snarled, bringing the bottle of wine to her lips, but not taking a sip just yet. She was waiting for his response. He could tell. As soon as he could find something smart enough to say, she would only snap back at him. There was no point in even trying.

"I just know."

With that, Jacques bent down and gathered up his skates in his hands. He tried to keep his eyes fixed ahead, away from Josee who froze on the couch. Her gleaming fake smile slowly dissolved away. As Jacques straightened up with his skates and began marching towards the door, she began to take deep breaths, louder, more frantic ones that got faster as he stomped nearer to the door.

"DON'T YOU DARE OPEN THAT DOOR!"

Yet she wouldn't leave the couch. She just knelt there, clinging onto the remote in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other. Just as he had predicted. Jacques almost laughed to himself and reached out for the handle when a blood curdling scream filled the room and her phone was sent flying across the room over to Jacques and somehow managed to strike his forehead perfectly. The poor man let out a shriek of pain and dropped his skates that crashed to the ground for the second time that morning, along with Josee's phone.

"What did you do that for?"

"Pick it up!" Josee let out a shaky maniac laugh and jabbed a sharp finger at the phone at Jacques's feet. "Do it! Read what it says!"

Rubbing his forehead, Jacques moaned, but reluctantly reached down to pick it up. Josee giggled, drumming her fingers on the edge of the couch with one hand, wearily raising the bottle of wine to her lips to take another heavy sip. As Jacques raised the phone and glanced at the screen, Josee kept gulping down the wine until only a quarter of it was left in the bottle.

"How does he deal with her bul- nonsense? He should just dump her . . ." Jacques tutted loudly, rolling his eyes. "This post is from ages ago!"

"But you don't know, do you?" Josee squinted her red raw eyes and stretched out over the couch so far that she wavered over it, dangerously close to falling off. "That person could out there, waiting for you to come out . . . and then they POUNCE!"

She snapped her teeth shut, trying to get some form of reaction out of him. But for some reason, he didn't flinch. Maybe because something about this bag-eyed woman, swaying over the edge of the couch meters away from him where she couldn't make an attack and instead clung onto her precious bottle of wine . . . It just wasn't threatening.

"This post could simply be about the Hate-"

"IT'S ABOUT US!"

Josee almost fell over the edge of the couch from screaming and flopped back onto the seat so she could finish off the last quarter of wine, thrusting the bottle to her lips and chugging it down. Jacques blinked at being interrupted (something he was perfectly used to but still surprised him every time) and watched her drink it down as fast as she could, making loud slurping gulping noises. He suddenly snapped out of it and marched over to the couch.

"How much wine have you been drinking?"

As he approached her, Josee blinked at him, threw away the now empty bottle and grabbed another full one. It was then when Jacques saw the many empty bottles of wine lying around the couch and the coffee table. There had to be at least thirty on the coffee table, even more underneath it with many random empty bottles scattered around the floor. How could he have not seen them? Well he kind of knew why, Josee had practically banned him from sitting down on the couch, forcing him to keep his distance so he couldn't see her but . . . how? The pungent smell of alcohol stung his nostrils, almost knocking him out. And Josee had somehow adapted to this wicked smell. In fact, she was chugging down another bottle right now.

"That's enough!"

Jacques grabbed the wine bottle and yanked it away from Josee's mouth, but she let out a roar and clung onto it like it was her life, dragging it back towards her. Jacques gritted his teeth as he tried to pull it away from her amazed that the woman who had taken in so much wine over the course of three months was able to put up a fight at all.

"Josee-"

"NO!"

"Give me the bottle!"

"IT'S MINE!"

"You have had more than enough!"

"I HAVEN'T EVEN HAD A SIP OF IT!"

The half empty bottle was tugged back and forth and back and forth between the two ice dancers, its contents swaying and splashing about inside. Jacques tightened his grip on the bottle and with a high pitched grunt, yanked the it towards him as hard as he could. And the bottle suddenly shattered. Right there, as soon as he yanked it, the delicate bottle just smashed into large black shards, dumping its load. Some of the wine splashed off the couch, but most of it spilled onto the carpet at Jacques's feet in a purplish-red foul smelling puddle. The black glass smithereens sprinkled themselves over it, followed by the heavier, less delicate shards.

The two ice dancers stared at the black mess on the white carpet. Both blinked, trying to process what the hell just happened. The clearer minded Jacques was first to catch on, slowly opening his hands to sprinkle more black shards over the stain. Slowly, nervously, he steered his eyes up towards his partner. Josee was leaning between the couch and the coffee table with her beady eyes fixed on the glass and the spilled wine. She was trembling again with the face of a traumatized child who had just watched their dog get run over.

"Oops!"

That snapped her out of it. She blinked and then slid her eyes up towards Jacques's so she could seal contact with them. Again, Jacques tried to give her the most innocent smile he could muster, but his hands in front of him were shaking more than she was. Josee blinked at him, sniffing loudly through her nose. . . and then she smiled back at him. A very sinister "you've done it now" smile that made Jacques squeak.

"Sorry!"

She began chuckling again. A quiet chuckle at first, but then it got louder, much shakier, more exhausted and uncertain as to what she was laughing about. Her body swayed and flopped onto the armrest behind her. Jacques took a step back, not sure what to expect, watching as she heaved herself back forwards. Her woozy head nearly dragged her off the couch as she tried to focus on the mess in front of her.

"Oh Jacques . . ." She took a moment to catch her shaky breath before finishing. "Look what you made me do!"

"Huh?" Jacques raised an eyebrow. That was pretty darn tame compared to what he had expected. But then again, watching her overly loose body movements, the way she was trying to laugh, how her stringy hair stuck out wherever it wanted . . .

"I think you're drunk."

"Fuck yeah I'm drunk! You figured it out only now! I'm drunk!" She took a deep, loud, croaky breath as if she was trying to take a large gulp of alcohol through the air around them. Jacques pulled a face and decided he might as well clean up the broken glass before she decided to cut someone's throat with it. As he knelt down and began gathering the shards up in his hands, Josee made a straining nose as she pushed her head up in an attempt to stare at him.

"What are you doooing?"

"I'm . . . cleaning this up."

"Nooooo, nooooo." Josee wavered her hand at his face like she was trying to push him away, but was too weak and drunk to do so. "You didn't make the mess . . . I did . . ." She flopped onto her stomach, and picked up a particularly pointy shiny shard to examine.

"Isn't this piece of glass preeetty?"

"NO!" Jacques squealed and slapped it out of her hand before hastily gathering up the rest of the shards and rushing off with them.

"No! NO!" Josee tried to jump after him, but it just came across as another desperate flop on the couch. "NOOOO JACQUES DON'T LEAVE ME!"

"I'm just throwing this stuff away!"

"YOU'RE LEAVING ME!" Josee rolled onto her back and thrust the remote at the TV over her, smacking down buttons until she reached that one episode . . . their final episode . . . the one where they had . . . been eliminated. She dropped her arm over her eyes, clawing her free hand. Her right foot stuck up in the air by itself, kicking off the blankets. It was definitely over dramatic, even for Josee.

"MY DANCE PARTNER HAS LEFT ME! MY ONLY SUPPORTER LEFT AND HE'S GONE! I'M ON MY OWN NOW! I'M LEFT TO BURN AND ROT IN HELL WHERE I BELONG! LOOK AT ME!" She braved a glance at herself on that TV, sniffing in again as she watched herself destroy the Bethesda Terrace Fountain. She laughed a dying laugh. "I'M A MANIAC!"

"Hey!"

Josee gasped dramatically and looked up to see Jacques leaning over the couch, glaring down at her. She chuckled uncertainly and let her right leg drop on the armrest.

"Whadaya want?"

"That's it!" he cried, pointing straight at her face. "That's exactly why I haven't left this crazy maison! If I were to leave, you would probably go out on a destruction spree and probably KILL everyone in sight! Or you would probably just sit there for the rest of your life sobbing over some stupid gameshow until you have withered away!" He clenched his fists and stuck them on his hips. "I'll take credit for all the terrible things we did in the race, but I won't be responsible for letting my dance partner go fully insane!"

Josee just lay there, not even looking at him. She sniggered and let out a hiccup. "Destruction spree . . ." She tilted her hand holding the remote up at the TV, she didn't even have the energy to raise her arm properly and brought the episode back to the beginning of her monstrous tantrum.

Jacques rolled his eyes sighing to himself. At least he could feel grateful that no one had died or gotten hurt yet. It made staying with this crazy woman that little bit more worth it. He wandered around the edge of the couch where Josee was still lying, fully stretched out with no room for him.

"Can I sit down?"

She didn't respond. Every part of her body was drooping. She wasn't even looking up at the TV anymore. Her eyes were only half open. She was lost in a deep drunken murky sea of thought. Jacques shrugged and wondered if he could move her feet without getting a kick in the face and lowered himself down.

"Get the fuck off."

Jacques immediately yelped and straightened, went to back away but stumbled over an empty wine bottle behind him making him yelp again. Josee watched him, unamused. Even if she wanted to attack him, she was too weak and her body felt too heavy. Then she tutted. And, with a mighty groan, she heaved her empty hand up to grab a bit of couch so she could haul herself up, making room for him.

"Go on then," she sighed.

Jacques's eyes widened in disbelief. She was actually giving in and finally sharing the couch with him? Really? Jacques could have squealed out loud with delight, but knowing Josee was watching and probably not in the mood for any excitement, he decided to keep his mouth shut and not risk a lash out. Quietly beaming to himself, he strolled over to the couch and sat himself down. As soon as he was down, something sharp jabbed him from behind. Jacques let out a squeak of pain and glanced behind him. Ouch! What was that? He dug his hand through the couch hole while Josee wrapped her arms around her knees, her back turned to him.

Routing and feeling around, it didn't take Jacques long to find what had poked him. He dragged his hand out the couch and pulled out another empty wine bottle. He raised it at Josee and frowned a little. She didn't even bother to look at him as he put it down on the floor, carefully avoiding the dark red stain by his feet. As he did so, he suddenly noticed that Josee had placed the remote on the coffee table beside her. Jacques stared at it for a moment, flicking an uncertain glance at Josee next to him. She was curled up to herself on the far side. Again, Jacques frowned a little, but scooched towards her a little so he could slowly stretch over to the coffee table and reach out for the remote.

Josee turned her head a little towards him and Jacques stiffened, his fingers just inches from the remote. She shifted her weight a little towards him to get a better look. He held his breath. She knew perfectly well what he was up to. She puckered her lips, shifting her weight to face him a little more. And before Jacques could react- she snatched the remote away from him and tucked it under her arms before turning away from him again. All without even eyeing him.

"Huh." Jacques blinked. Every time he seemed to mess up, she kept on acting like she was going to do something awful . . . and yet so far, she hadn't even touched him. Exhaling a loud sigh of relief, he relaxed into the couch, when Josee suddenly collapsed, dropping her head onto his lap.

"OOF!"

Josee just ignored him, feeling around for the remote on her stomach. She caught it before it could slip off and aimed it at the TV. Jacques watched her in fascination as she felt around for the one "off" button. Was she really? Yes! She found the off button and pressed down hard on it. And for the first time in three months, the TV flashed black. The house was filled with a relieving silence.

With her head still on Jacques's lap, Josee let the remote slip from her hand and heaved a heavy sigh flopping her hand on her stomach. Her sunken eyes were only half open, covered by the dark hairs that had escaped her ponytail. In a way, she almost looked defeated.

"Uhh, Josee?"

She sighed again. "I don't even care anymore."

"Right."

Jacques waited for a moment, not sure what to do or say next, staring down at the fallen woman on his lap with her hair over over eyes. He raised an uncertain hand and gingerly brushed a few strands away. When she didn't protest, he brushed more hair away so he could see her face better. Funny, he thought, he had been waiting so long for that TV to come off, and now that it was, it was weird to be sitting here in the quiet without having to hear the dreadful sound of Josee kicking and screaming. Just nice peace and quiet.

The two sat there for a while. The longer they stayed, the more comfortable the silence grew. Jacques smiled a little glanced out the nearby window. His small smile faded a little. He looked longingly out at that crisp white snow on the street. But the human more empathetic side of him urged to stay with his partner who was half asleep on his lap. He sighed quietly, but decided that this was definitely an improvement from two minutes ago. He brushed some more hair away from Josee's face and looked down, only to notice that she was looking straight back up at him. Her eyes were tired and heavy, but she was definitely looking up at him.

Not for long though. She looked back down at her knees in front of her. Then she looked at the many empty wine bottles beside her. She rubbed her eyes with both hands. And then she sat up with less effort than the last time.

"Josee?"

Jacques straightened in his seat, staring at her, eyes widened. Josee just sat there with her eyes still shut, taking a moment to have a thought to herself. Then, she opened her eyes and stood up from the couch, straight and tall and began strolling towards the door.

"Josee!" Jacques stood up after her, watching her, jaw dropped as she approached the door . . . only to bend down to pick up her phone. His face dropped. He flopped onto the armrest on the side of the couch as Josee began making her way upstairs. Jacques straightened again and jumped off the couch, hurrying after her.

"Where are you going?"

Josee was halfway up the stairs and didn't respond, bringing her phone up with her. Jacques looked up at her anxiously, wondering what she could be thinking now. For a glorious moment there, he really had thought-

"Get your skates on, I'll meet you later!"

Jacques's jaw dropped again. He felt a rush of warm excitement pump through him, urging him to burst out the door and scream like a crazy man. But surely he must be going mad. Surely he must have misheard.

"Excuse-moi?"

"Go before I change my mind!"

Jacques's jaw dropped as low as it could possibly go. He just stood there for a while, making gaping noises . . . taking it all in . . . and then it clicked. He was finally allowed out. The excitement pumped through him, up to his face where a ridiculously happy grin spread across his face. And then he let out a high pitched squeal and leapt over to his skates by the door, grabbed them in one hand and stepped over to the door so he could kick it open.

As soon as the door belted open, a gush of cool fresh air blasted him. Jacques beamed, letting the cold wash over him and stepped out into the winter sunlight, sniffing in that beautiful outside air. There was almost a minty freshness to it. As he stepped out farther into the snow, he felt the crunch of it beneath his feet. Every satisfying little crunch got him more excited. It was such a beautiful day. He was the only one outside. Why waste it?

Jacques didn't hesitate to take off down the street, sprinting at full speed towards the nearest frozen lake he could think of, clutching tight onto his skates, squealing happily to himself. He sprinted past an old man who stared at the overexcited young dancer but other than that, didn't comment. He was panting heavily, but with each deep breath he took, he took in more cold refreshing air that made him feel more alive than the last breath.

With all this excitement and sprinting, it didn't take him long to reach the large white frozen lake. He was the only one there. He let out another delighted little man giggle and wasted no time in changing into his skates. The sun was gleaming down on the ice in a fine white light, begging for him to step on.

Jacques bit his lip in a pathetic effort to contain his excitement and tied his skates tight before stepping on. The blades slid around on the wet slippery ice, a feeling he was familiar with and loved nonetheless. He let himself wobble for a moment as he slid out into the middle. It was okay to be shaky when first stepping on. He was out of practice. There was no one to watch him.

He grinned and opened out his arms, exposing himself to the winter air, taking in another deep breath. Oh how he had missed being out on the ice. Shutting his eyes happily, Jacques put his head back and let his body do whatever his mind wanted it to. Just to glide along at full speed, feeling the wind in his hair, that sweet sting of cold on his cheeks. He opened his eyes and let his grin grow wider as he spun around to skate backwards, everything perfectly natural to him, so happy, he leapt into the air, allowing himself to spin at the speed of light before landing neatly on one foot. He didn't even need any music to think of a routine- the satisfying scrape of the ice beneath him was all the music he needed. It was smooth scraping sound that soothed your ears instead of grating them.

He chuckled to himself and picked up the speed, plenty of space to go for another high speed spin. Jacques squinted his eyes in eager concentration as he flicked his foot up and- YES! That feeling of performing the perfect spin in midair. He landed and went for another one. Again, that wonderful sensation, spinning out of control but still being able to control yourself to land perfectly. Jacques laughed, completely lost in his own world and went for another midair spin. And YES, he did it again, leaping up and whizzing around, but slowing down just in time to land on his foot and glide backwards. Sometimes nothing was more satisfying to an ice dancer than performing the perfect triple midair spin. That brief moment where you could just let yourself completely loose. It made him feel free.

"Not bad."

Jacques shrieked and nearly slipped onto his face, but being a professional managed to skid to a halt and recover his balance. He looked up, and sure enough, there she was, standing at the ice's edge, all cleaned up, hair washed with makeup on to make her look young and fresh again. She was wearing a long sleeved white dress decorated with golden studs while her shiny dark hair was tied back with a gold scrunchie.

"Josee! You came!" Jacques went to skate up to her but she had already stepped on, gliding towards him with a grin on her face. A devilish, playful smirk that showed that she was finally ready to take on the world.

She was skating faster towards Jacques, reaching out with her hand for him to grab. Jacques smirked at her and stretched out with his hand to grab hers and swing her around. Josee's grin grew wider as she let herself be swung around and allowed her hand to slip out of Jacques's so that she too could leap into the air and twirl around before landing smoothly on one foot, facing him. Smiling at him.

Jacques gaped at her, amazed that she could still move so gracefully on the ice after so much wine and so little practice. But . . . she was even more graceful, more beautiful, much happier for some reason. She was just as excited as he was to be back on the ice and skated towards him, ready for another stunt.

She grabbed his shoulders to push herself up and thrust her legs around his waist so she could hang freely from him without a care in the world. Her grip around Jacques's waist was so firm that he didn't have to hold on tight to her legs to keep her from falling. She was a natural.

As they glided around on the shimmering ice, Josee sniffed in the winter air and looked up happily at her partner who smiled down at her. She grinned and reached up to grab his shoulders, keeping her legs wrapped around him as he skated with her, but kept his eyes locked on her.

"As soon as I get the chance," Josee grinned, "I am going to sign us up for another competition. We are going to win the gold. And we are going to win it like real sportsmen. We're going to win it fairly."

She didn't say it in a deep threatening tone. She said it with pride. She said it like she truly meant it. Like she was truly ready to move on and become a better person for it. Jacques stared at her in awe and allowed her to slide out of his grip, separating herself from him. The two took a moment to part away, skating backwards to either side of the lake, keeping their eyes fixed on each other as they skated further from each other, both preparing themselves for one last trick.

Then they started to skate towards each other. Slowly at first, but then with each step they took towards each other, they glided even faster, drawing nearer to each other even quicker than they had separated. Neither Jacques nor Josee took their eyes off of their fellow partner, grinning eagerly at each other as Josee opened out her arms for Jacques to grab her.

"GO JOSEE!"

Jacques bent down and grabbed Josee by the waist, lifting her into the air with Josee swinging her feet behind her until she was completely horizontal, arms out, like a swan in her white and gold dress, panting and beaming with pride.

"YAAAASS! IT'S MAGNIFIQUE!" Jacques laughed as he glided along the ice, carrying Josee above him. As he looked around him, he noticed a woman out on the far distance watching them. He had no idea if she was judging the pair or not but the man was too happy to care. Instead, he looked out at that woman and let out a cheerful "HELLO!"

Josee looked out and noticed the woman out in the distance who waved back at them. A pleasant wave. She couldn't help but smile to herself, smile down at Jacques and shut her eyes, letting the cold wind sting her face and the winter sun soothe it down. She stretched out her arms, almost wishing she could fly through the wind, but genuinely happy to stay down on the ice with Jacques holding tightly onto her.

The recovery process had been tough. But things could only look up from here.

And there we go! Like I said, I didn't want it to be too fluffy, but I'm glad I kept it in character. I wanted Josee to decide to get over the whole race by herself without Jacques being the "shoulder to cry on" like a lot of my other fics, because yeah, that's not Josee, and as much as I love her with Jacques, I just don't ship them as a couple.

This story in particular is one that I relate to because something similar did happen to me. Don't worry, I didn't douse myself in alcohol (I don't drink), but I actually DID take part in a gameshow (an Internet gameshow) and lost a lot, firstly through some unfortunate events and later through my own fault. I did go through a stage of depression at the thought of missing out because of stupid little actions, but pretty much like Josee in this, I kind of had to say "Fuck it" and move on by myself.

Anyway, I hope you liked it.

See ya ;)